how it feels to fly | jeonglix

04

The first few days after starting a new lot of medication is always the best.

Felix is unorganised—he's tried to plan ahead before, but it never works out—so there's always a day or two at the end of each four week prescription where he has no tablets left, and the first time he takes them again after that is like he's ascended to heaven. Even if it's just for two days, the pain and discomfort is almost nonexistent, and ignorable. It's those two days that he tries to cram as much activity into as possible, like doing a good workout, or helping his dad with work—all the things he would normally struggle to put his mind to.

He's just got back from cycling to the shop to pick up a fresh loaf of bread, and Felix is buzzing. He makes two sandwiches: ham and cheese for his dad, and cucumber with a little salt and pepper for himself.

He takes the plates out to the other end of the cemetery, where his dad is clipping back the hedges, and they sit on the little hill whilst they eat. The day is quiet, the sky is clear, and Felix closes his eyes, inhaling the fresh smell of mowed-grass and distant linger of petrichor.

"Did you see anyone, at the shop?" his father asks.

Felix shakes his head. "Only the lady from the  old blacksmith's cottage... she didn't want to talk to me." His father hums, wiping his hands over his work trousers before picking his sandwich up by the crust.

"That boy didn't come by yesterday."

"You've been noticing him too?" Felix looks up.

His father nods. "Yeah," he says. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugs. "Dunno." He has to remind himself that Jeongin isn't some phantom of his past that only he can see. He does, in fact, exist right now, and his father is oblivious to who the boy is to his son.

Off on the other side of the graveyard, the creaking sound of the gate being opened reaches their ears. Felix's dad sees the person first, and smiles. "Speak of the devil and he will appear."

As soon as he catches sight of Jeongin, Felix is on his feet and swiftly making his way back into the house, not wanting to give Jeongin a chance to see him. When he glances back, his father is looking at him in confusion, and Felix offers him a shake of the head, hoping it's enough to get a message across. He quietly closes the back door behind him, and runs up to his room, grabbing his laptop from his bed and getting comfortable once again on his window seat.

***

Jeongin nods his head towards the groundskeeper, a silent hello where anything more would feel intrusive, as he moves past him. The groundskeeper's eyes flicker up, but when Jeongin's gaze follows unwillingly to a window on the top floor of the cottage, he can't see anything.

Sitting by Hyunjin's grave, he's thrown into a couple of hours of silence while the older man continues his work, and Jeongin spends that time sat cross-legged on the grass, hands clasped around his multitude of colourful bracelets adorning both arms, eyes fixated on the headstone he's sat next to. At the bottom, there's a fresh wreath of flowers, a stark contrast against the bleak sky that threatens a downpour and the sight of which only draws a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

He blinks them away, and although the groundskeeper has gone back inside and Jeongin is alone, he's still at a loss for words. He has been for days. His eyes drift upwards again, back towards the window of the house overlooking this part of the cemetery. As he's about to look away again, something in the window flickers. He stares harder, eyebrows furrowing. For a moment, he could've sworn he saw a face—

Now, he looks closer, and there's nothing there.

The hours pass, and Jeongin is caught up in the stillness, until the daylight has disappeared and the sky is dark. He barely even realises, until the caretaker approaches him and softly tells him that the gates are being closed soon. He still hasn't said a word.