Four years ago.
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Jinju
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Seongie loves the rain, Hongjoong realizes, the third time she asks to lay on his porch as the sound of the weather drums insistently on the awning overhead.
They're laying side by side, fingers laced together as the cool air stirs around them in a gentle breeze.
It's later in the afternoon, but Hongjoong's mom hasn't returned home from her second job, and it's too early for him to make the short drive over to his grandparents' farm to help with the evening chores.
So for now, he'll settle for this quiet moment with his girlfriend of nearly a year, watching her rest with her face pointed towards the roof, eyes closed and breathing shallow.
Seongie is beautiful in a unique way.
Her eyes are like that of an intelligent fox, slanted and alluring, dark and consuming.
The gentle slope of her nose tapers down, almost button-like, resting over a pair of sweet doll-like lips.
She looks so delicate, fragile almost, with a petite frame and wispy limbs, but she's the most fiery person Hongjoong knows, and perhaps that is why he fell for her.
She is unlike anything he grew up seeing on his Jinju farm and he takes every opportunity he can to soak her in like parched earth when the first rain of the season falls.
Now, he watches her intently, noting that her skin is like porcelain, but sensitive, so much so that she tans rather easily if given the opportunity, and Hongjoong doesn't know if he loves the sight of milk or caramel more on her flesh.
Against her, his own skin is like that of the expensive lattes he sometimes buys her when they go into town, when they should be studying or making plans for graduation.
But they just can't help themselves, getting so lost in each other and the moment, because time waits for no one and Seongie will leave Jinju for university soon and Hongjoong has to wait an entire year to follow her.
It would be hell if he didn't have a plan, which he does, of course.
He doesn't want Seongie to let go of her dreams just to stay here in this place, wasting her talented fingers on a worn piano when she should be delighting people all across the country with her talent.
No, she should go to university and she should go with a promise that Hongjoong will always be hers.
Hongjoong continues to gaze upon Seongie as he feels for the small box in his coat pocket.
He wasn't sure what size ring she wore, or even if she prefers gold or silver, but somehow he feels like it doesn't matter.
Knowing her, Seongie will see beyond the ring to find the sentiment and that's enough for him.
"Hey," he drawls, watching his girlfriend come out of her trance before turning to face him.
Her blunt-cut hair pools underneath her.
"Hey," she replies, smiling until her gums show, her white teeth gleaming.
Hongjoong shifts closer, pulling their intertwined hands up to his lips so he can kiss her knuckles.
"So, graduation is in a few months," he begins slowly, watching as Seongie's face drops and a frown pulls on her lips.
"And I know you've already been accepted to that fancy school in Seoul, but I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere and that I'll wait for you." He sits up then, gently pulling her up with him and clears his throat, trying to calm his racing heart.
"Seongie, would you give me the honor of marry—"
"Hongjoong, don't," Seongie interjects, moving to stop his hand from going into his pocket to retrieve the ring.
"I have to tell you something."
He can see it in her eyes.
Something is terribly wrong.
His stomach instantly sours and his hands start to shake, so he shoves them in his pockets, watching as Seongie fumbles for her words.
"I've been keeping something from you, Joong, and I'm really sorry but I didn't know how to tell you without hurting you and—"
"Who is he?" Hongjoong asks, feeling his throat dry up.
He knew Seongie was too good for him— too smart, too pretty, too talented.
She didn't belong on a farm, she belonged on stage and he was just getting in her way.
Why did he ever think that she would want to stay with a dirty country boy with shaggy hair and a penchant for collecting strange pieces of art that everyone else called garbage?
Of course she was interested in someone else, someone decidedly not Hongjoong....
Seongie cocks her head, her bob swaying.
The strands brush over her shoulders and Hongjoong bites down the urge to move her hair away for her.
"What? No, Joong, there's not anyone else," she clarifies, and while it relaxes Hongjoong, it does little to soothe him.
Seongie bites her thumb, gnawing at the nail there and then she's looking up at him with tears sparkling in her eyes.
"Do you want me to just say it?"
No.
"Yes, please." Hongjoong tries to force out a smile to lighten the atmosphere, but it comes across as anguished and his lips begin to tremble.
Seongie wraps her small hand in his and it feels like a goodbye rather than a caress.
"Hongjoong, I'm..... sick."
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Seoul
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It's dark when Seonghwa opens his eyes and he can't see a damn thing.
He ponders for a moment how he could've found himself outside in the middle of the night, with not a single star to light his way, but then he thinks back to the last thing he remembers and all he can see inside his hazy mind are the lights of his car illuminating a dirt road.
Did he get to his destination?
Was he there right now?
Did he fall asleep in his car?
Certainly not.
No, Seonghwa was—
Oh, so he wasn't awake before, but he is now, blinking repeatedly as the cool air burns his eyes.
It's not dark like he thought, but bright, very bright and the stale fluorescence of the lights above cause him physical pain.
There's a ringing in his ears too, but above that he can hear muffled voices begin to surround him and though his eyes are now open, he can't see clearly.
The blurry people are saying things to him, smoothing back his sweaty hair and touching his hand, but he struggles to comprehend why and how they got here.
After a few more moments, things get less fuzzy and sounds become crisper, assaulting him all at once.
Before he can even process anything, his vision bottoms out and he notices a woman standing by him— by his bedside— and she's dressed in a nurse's outfit.
"Seonghwa-ssi? Can you hear me? Nod if you can understand me."
Stunned, Seonghwa complies, narrowing his eyes at the sight.
He flicks his gaze to the other parts of the room and notices with abject horror that he's in a hospital, hooked up to various machines as doctors and nurses flit about.
"What.... here?" he says, his tongue slack and lolling around in his mouth.
He wanted to ask what he is doing here, but it seems his body hasn't quite caught up yet.
The curtain to his side of the room shifts and Seonghwa sees a face he's all too familiar with and the sight alone causes him great confusion and joy.
"Woo-young!"
Wooyoung understands him anyway, rushing to his side and reaching for Seonghwa's hand, the one the IV isn't in.
"Hyung, you're ok..... I-I thought that—"
"Sweetie," the nurse says, rubbing Wooyoung's back. "It's best if you let him wake up some more before confusing him too much, ok?"
Nodding, Wooyoung closes his mouth and opts to stare down at Seonghwa with tears in his eyes.
The grip on his hand tightens, Wooyoung's fingers surprisingly strong.
Seonghwa wants to comfort his best friend, but he knows his tongue won't cooperate, so he just stares back, blinking curiously.
Had something happened?
What was going on?
His body feels like shit, his muscles aching and protesting violently as he shifts around on the bed.
He groans at the movement, already wanting to get up and move around and show Wooyoung that he's fine, just fine, and that the other shouldn't cry, but then Wooyoung is pleading with him to stop moving.
Had this been any other circumstance, Seonghwa would just scoff and do as he pleases, but there's something in the way Wooyoung's pupils dilate and his breathing comes fast and hard.
His hand is resting on Seonghwa's thigh above the blankets and it's then that Seonghwa realizes something peculiar.
He can't feel the weight of Wooyoung's hand.
Panicked, Seonghwa wills his legs to move, straining his eyes as he concentrates harder and harder.
Wooyoung must pick up on what he's doing because his friend is suddenly begging for Seonghwa to calm down, to relax.
The heart monitor is going wild, shrieking in the background, and soon all of the nurses are trying to hold him down, but Seonghwa is ripping the blankets off himself like a madman, stopping only when he sees his limbs;
Fresh with stitches in various places.
He gapes down at them and tries one more time to move his lower body.
He can barely even sit up and he's not sure, but it seems like Wooyoung is propping him up even as he continues to plead with Seonghwa to stop.
He can't move his legs.
He reaches out to poke the flesh of his calf, fingers trembling.
He can't feel his touch.
"Seonghwa," Wooyoung whispers, voice strangled with tears.
"I'm so sorry."
And Seonghwa tunes everything out after that, focusing on his legs that refuse to move and the faint memories that flit through his mind like ghosts.
Sometime during the next few hours he remembers.
He remembers the accident.