#evermourning

At every single event like this, he is the anchor that keeps you grounded. When Chris looks away to laugh loudly and clap his best friend, Jisung, on the back, you steal a glance at Jeongin.

He looks so mature tonight. He wears a striking navy doublet threaded with gold, the colors of the Bahng family's coat of arms. Beneath it, his white sleeves are puffy, basically hiding his large hands. And as he smiles at you, you make a mental note of how his face is as perfect as ever.

His eyes cause you to melt the moment you meet his gaze. They are a deep brown, yet they glimmer with a resolute air of warmth, almost as if they are the light at the end of the tunnel that you've been searching for all along. His hair is dark and wavy, combed neatly. You know this because you had to wrestle with him for a good ten minutes before he conceded and allowed you to comb his hair.

Nobody in here knows your dirty little secret except you. And Jeongin, of course.

Normally, if it were anywhere else, he'd make subtle glances across the table, knowing just what to do to have you blushing in an instant. But tonight, he cannot. Because tonight, he is seated at Chris's side, a reminder that at the end of the day, he will never be able to live a comfortable life with you.

In the ebony depths of Jeongin's darkest nightmares, he sees you married to Chris, intent on creating a family and a home with him. He sees in his head your words of venom towards him as you push him away for his more talented and intelligent brother. The very idea of you consummating marriage with Chris has him waking up in a cold sweat.

But once the moon rises in the east, casting a dim, silvery light onto the polished courtyard stones, you are swept into a labyrinth of gardens until Jeongin is positive the two of you will not get caught.

The moment he is certain, his lips are on yours.

Jeongin is practically clawing at you, desperate for the saccharine sweetness of your lips. His long fingers entangle themselves in your hair, as if gripping onto the delicate strands will allow him to maintain some sense of human decency. The more his lips crash against yours, bruising and biting them, the more he can feel himself deteriorating into something almost primitive.

It is completely discourteous of him, of both of you, to let this behavior run amuck. You should feel some ounce of shame for sneaking around behind your husband-to-be's back with his younger brother, of all people. And yet, you cannot. Every muscle and bone in your body aches devastatingly, yearning for the boy you cannot have.

So you will continue to be two-faced. You are the perfect partner for Chris in the daytime, listening to him talk and guide you through life. But you'll always wake in his brother's bed. You'll always pen passionate sonnets to his brother and receive equally fervent soliloquies in return.

And when the time comes, you will write a note to Chris profusely apologizing for never loving him truly the way he cared for you. You will push down your fears about risk as you allow Jeongin to hoist you over stone walls draped in ivy in the loneliness of evening, hands intertwined as you run towards a new life together.

Nobody ever said finding your soulmate was supposed to be easy.

California, USA, 1849

The winter has been long, but you pulled through. Coming here was not easy, across barren prairie and looming mountains with barely enough food to survive. But it has paid off, in many more ways than you'd imagined.

When the news spread like wildfire about the possibility of gold on the West Coast, you were a little unsure if it was true or not. You didn't want to leave behind everything you knew for something hypothetical. But your husband believed. He hoped for a better life, not wanting to be the reason you were so blue. So you took your infant son, just the three of you, and went west.

You stand now in front of a beautiful house on the coast. It is two stories, preposterous for someone of your family's class, and is painted clean and white. The shutters are painted in hues of periwinkle, kindling a fire inside your heart.

Vividly in your dreams you remember first marrying Jeongin. He was scared he couldn't provide a life for you, for the one who had such a tight grip on him since he was a small boy. He knew his family wasn't wealthy, and he didn't want you to leave him, so he jumped at the chance to try and change that.

He believes God was on his side that day, after scorching hours mining and waiting by the river looking for something even akin to gold. Soil was etched into his fingernails, and his skin was tan from all the time in the sun. But he kept going, for you, and he found a hunk of gold.

It is worth it to him, seeing the delight on your face when he reveals to you the house he built himself. You were sixteen when you met him, dreaming of a big house on the water with white siding and blue shutters, and those dreams have come true.

Every single thing inside the home he’s created for your family has been created lovingly by hand. All the furniture on the inside has been built too, just for you.

You stand outside of it beside him, tears welling at the corners of your eyes. Your son is held tightly to your chest, and Jeongin wraps one arm tightly around your waist. You lean into him, a warm smile encompassing your facial features.

"Oh, sweetheart," you practically let out a broken sob. You cannot even begin to fathom the multitudes of love that seeps out of Jeongin when it comes to you. He adores your very existence, believes he's blessed by it.

It only makes sense that if Jeongin had any sort of divine powers, he would part seas and move mountains if they were ever a hazard to you. He has built you a home out of the ground, for fuck's sake.

It has been made inadvertently clear to you that you are so lucky that a man like Jeongin loves you.

Somewhere on the front lines of the Allied Forces, 1944

The world did not look this barren ten years ago.

Once luscious fields of verdant vegetation have now become trampled earth, soiled with fragments of weapons and bones. No longer do children play here. No longer do the birds sing. The only sound that will reach your ears anymore are the explosions and the screams.

Jeongin is relieved that he has temporary salvation. He sits upon a creaky cot in the medical tent, the clamor of the room still better than any battlefield. He sighs, and unbuttons the first two buttons on his uniform, rolling up the sleeves. There's a gash that hurts like hell down his forearm, thanks to the grenade he practically dove in front of to save his unit, and he's been waiting to get it wrapped.

His stomach lurches, however, as screams intensify. The 25th Infantry was ambushed. Doctors and nurses surround the soldiers carried in, and they start looking for empty beds. Time is running out, and so is availability.

His arm throbs, and he groans, clenching his teeth. Everything feels hazy. As Jeongin swims in and out of consciousness, he can hear the voice of the head doctor over him.

"Someone treat this boy. We ought to get him out of here for space."

He doesn't hear the rest, as everything goes black.

"Oh no, this won't do at all." someone tuts, and Jeongin blinks wearily. A doctor is standing above him, writing about his condition on a clipboard. "Are you awake now, Yang?"

He looks up to see the face of an angel above him.

You smell like gardenias and vanilla and everything he's yearned for since he stepped onto that dingy plane to come fight here. Your hair is neat, your skin is glossy and not covered in soot (like so many people he's met before), and your medical uniform is pressed.

He's so busy staring at you in childlike awe that he forgets to answer your question. When you tilt your head, awkward silence forming an invisible barrier between you is when it finally hits him, and his cheeks turn the color of blooming roses.

"Oh, um, yes. I'm awake." he stammers. You smile, and reach for his arm.

"May I?" you ask softly, as if a loud voice will make the wound worse. Jeongin's heart skips a beat at your words. Just by speaking to him a few times, you've entangled him in your web. And Jeongin is making no attempt to escape. "It''ll only hurt for a second, dear. I just have to check it out."

He nods, exhaling shakily as you lift his arm to check how much motion he still has in it. Once that's done, you examine the laceration.

"And how did this come to be, hm?" you ask, applying ointment to the wound. Jeongin grunts, and you place another hand on his shoulder to ease him through it. He hates how vulnerable you make him, but the feeling of you taking care of him is so appetizing. It's not enough for him. He never wants to leave your side again.

"I was an idiot," Jeongin grumbles with heated cheeks. He can't lie to you, but the reason he's in here is stupid. "and there was a grenade the enemy planted in the ground. It was like a millisecond decision, but I tried to move it away from us and it exploded. Nobody got killed, but a shard of debris got stuck in my arm."

He notices you're listening to his story in astonishment. His cheeks grow redder and redder. You probably think he's an actual dumbass.

"Are you kidding?" you say once he's finished. "You're a hero, Lieutenant. You put your life on the line to help your fellow soldiers. That's so honorable. Goodness, now I feel honored to be operating on you!"

As you begin to dress his wound, you make small talk with him, and Jeongin realizes that you and him have so much in common. You're easy to talk to and so sweet. You even are from the same city as him, for fuck's sake!

Eventually, you have to leave to aid another patient, but you can't help but lean in to whisper into his ear.

"I'll see you around, Lieutenant."

Jeongin blushes as you say this, and yet, he's so confused why you're so keen on staying with him. You could've been doing it out of pity, and you could've been working on anything else. But you devoted your precious time to him. And that's what makes him all warm inside.

It's December of 1945, and Jeongin has officially been discharged from the military. It was a long war, but a victorious one, and every single person put in the effort necessary.

You were sent back in early summer, devastating Jeongin and you both. Ever since that day in the tent, you'd been inseparable. It truly was a sight, wasn't it? Young love, in the face of such tragedy. A doctor saving the wounded and a young soldier who could die at any moment.

Since returning home, you've busied yourself with volunteer work and anything that the people need. You've fallen back into the flow of working long shifts at the hospital. But one new thing - every week, you've sent a letter to Jeongin. He tries to send some back as often as he can, but he's a busy man. And it's worrying, isn't it? One day he could stop replying and you'd never know whether or not he was busy or the worst had happened.

But he'd survived, much to your relief, and you were ready to see him now.

The harbor is crowded with wives, children, and families, waiting to see their loved ones arrive safe and sound. It's beginning to snow rather dreadfully, and as you wrap your coat tighter around yourself, you hope that it doesn't delay their arrival.

Thankfully, your prayers are answered, and a loud horn blows as the ship comes into the harbor. Cheers erupt through the crowd, and people begin pushing forward, desperate to get to their person first.

You weave through the crowd and absolute chaos erupts the moment the first few people get off the boat. You're being tossed around, but you have to go find Jeongin no matter what. The sea of people is suffocating, and you trip over someone's foot trying to get closer. But someone wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

When you look up, you see Jeongin's easy smile. You squeal, wrapping your arms tightly around him and he spins you around with a wide smile as he pulls you in for a long, loving kiss. His lips were always meant to be on yours. This is obvious through the way they mold into yours every time your lips connect. And when he finally pulls back, still holding you tightly, he grins.

"God, I've missed you."

Miroh Preparatory School, 1958

It's a sunny day on campus. You look at yourself in the mirror, at your freshly bought clothes. You turn once, or twice, excited to see your hard work paying off. The moment you saw this top at the store, red and black and so tuff, you knew you had to have it. You'd saved up your allowance for so long.

Your alarm chimes, and you jog over to check the time and your eyes nearly shoot out of your head. You're going to be late! You check yourself out one more time in the mirror, clip on cherry-shaped earrings, and dash out the door.

You vault onto your bike, spurring the wheels and gears into action and sighing in delight as the sun kisses your skin. Its golden rays dapple the sidewalk in front of you, setting the scene for a beautiful morning. You just hope you're pedaling fast enough to get there in time.

As you cruise along, you catch sight of your destination: the campus's soccer field. You ride around the path a couple of times, to divert their attention and make it seem like you're not there for any specific reason. Once they don't care to look is when you can look for your crush.

Yang Jeongin. The very glue that holds Miroh's undefeated varsity soccer team together. The team's most talented goalie in school history, with a slightly muscular frame and a smile that can melt any gal's heart. You park your bike and dash towards the stands, where your best friend and ticket to victory is standing.

Jisung is popular, in the same group as Jeongin, but what separates him from the rest is that he is insanely unathletic. Because of this, he is merely Miroh's team manager. But what he lacks in athletic prowess he makes up for in musical talent, stealing the hearts of people everywhere with his songs.

The two of you make an unlikely pair, since him and his friends are popular as hell and you're you, but in all honesty, you love spending time with him. You've known him since you were little living right next door to him, with gangly legs and candy wrappers stuffed into your pockets.

Jisung is the key piece to your plan to go out with Jeongin. He's your wingman, knowing the feelings you harbor for the dark-haired boy. You've begged him to bring you up during conversations and to tell you what Jeongin says. What you've gathered so far is that he thinks you're pretty, smart, and a good person.

That's not a lot, to be fair. He's probably trying to be nice, since he doesn't know you all that well. But frankly, you don't give a shit, because Jeongin thinks you're pretty.

"Quit it, hon." Jisung snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your lovesick daydreams. "Practice is almost over, and he wants to talk to you about something. You've got to focus."

Your heart excitedly skips a beat. Jeongin wants to tell you something?! You look out at the field, where he's stretching his arms, ready to focus as team striker Hyunjin slams a ball at him full speed. Somehow, like a madman, Jeongin calculates the way Hyunjin kicks and easily blocks it. You watch in awe. How the hell did he do that?

And then he looks over and notices that you're watching him, and if you squint, you're 50% sure his cheeks grow pink. What? Before you can even process it, he's focused on practice once more, leaving you to wonder if that minute encounter was even real.

"Did...did you see that?" you ask, prodding at Jisung's shoulder, but much to your dismay, he's making googly eyes at the student council president and her clique. You sigh. However, the gradually increasing sound of chatter begins to draw closer.

Practice is over. The eleven boys on the team are laughing and joking around with each other, and one by one they offer you at least a ghost of a polite smile. The final two are Chan, the team captain, and Jeongin, who seems flustered from the avalanche of praise his hyung bestows upon him.

When they reach you, Chan winks and pushes Jeongin in your direction before grabbing Jisung by the arm and walking away. You're standing here awkwardly with the boy you've been in love with for the longest time, waiting for what he's going to say.

"Um, Jisung said you needed something from me?" You ask, fiddling with the hem of your top. He's looking at you weird. There's something unreadable in his expression. Oh god, did Jisung let it slip about you drawing hearts around his yearbook photos?!

"Yeah, sorry...I know you don't know me all that well." Jeongin says sheepishly, smiling. You feel your face begin to burn up. The irony is apparent here. "We had geometry together, right? With Mr. Park?"

Of course you remember. That was the class where you fell head over heels for him. You sat behind him, giving you the ability to gaze at him adoringly. He was funny and smart, and brightened the room.

"Yeah, we did!" you smile at him. "But what do you need? I'd be happy to help." His cheeks grow pink at your words, and he becomes a blushing mess.

"So, um, you know how there's a school dance next week? For the homecoming game? I was wondering if you wanted to come as my date." he stammers. "See, I've had this crush on you ever since geometry. You haven't left my mind once."

You genuinely cannot tell whether or not this is a dream, as you nod excitedly and wrap your arms around him. Your high school sweetheart likes you back!

Decades later, you'll sit in a comfortable chair, showing your grandchildren this picture. It is of you and Jeongin, dated 1958, his arm wrapped languidly around you as you smile and laugh before the dance wearing coordinating colors. You'll remain hopelessly enamored with each other for the rest of your lives, creating a family and a home. Perfect for each other, as if the universe hand-crafted the string of fate that binds you with gentle, loving hands.

Seoul University, 2024

You'd rather be anywhere but here.

It's late, and your head is pounding from the loud music blasting around you. Hyunjin just had to drag you to one of his parties on a Friday night, which you were totally unprepared for. Now, you lean against the wall, absentmindedly swirling a drink you'd rather not touch.

Your internal silence is interrupted when a young man with ginger hair walks up to you. He wears a black tank top and jeans, and holds a red solo cup in one hand covered in rings.

"You seem lonely," he observes. You don't want to admit it, so you offer him a tight-lipped smile. "Mind if I offer you company?"

You've never met this man in your life. Yet something about him seems so...familiar. His existence is unbeknownst to you, but he's prominent already. And on his ring finger, strangely, he wears a silver ring with willow branches. Just like the one you have.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" you ask, absolutely bewildered. A fire lights up in his chocolate eyes. He reaches out to take your cup from you, placing it on a table nearby.

"Yes, we know each other. And we are meeting each other for the first time right now. My name's Jeongin." he says. And then you know. There's no proof that Jeongin is the one for you, but there's a feeling in your gut that you never want to be separated from him again.

"What...what do you mean, that we know each other?" you ask, intrigued. Jeongin chuckles, running a hand through his smooth hair. "I'm racking my brain here. I genuinely cannot think of a single interaction with you."

"Who knows?" Jeongin replies with a wink. "Maybe it was in a different universe. We could even be lovers."

You laugh at his goofy flirting, not thinking much of it. Jeongin seems like the type of guy you could see yourself having a true connection with.

"Well, let's see if that proves to be true." You look out over the droves of people dancing and come to the obvious conclusion that you would rather be anywhere but here. "I'm over this. Want to go grab something to eat?"

Jeongin gives you a smile that can only be classified as sugary sweet. He takes you by the hand, leading you out of the apartment until it's just the two of you. And you just feel so at ease with him. There is no place you'd rather be than beside Jeongin.

And there you will stay, no matter what. There's no use tampering with fate.

@evermourning, ©2024. all rights reserved.