how it feels to fly | jeonglix

05

The torch under Felix's chin is starting to get uncomfortable.

But the angle of light is just right to see the pictures in his lap, and sat outside under the stars, it's his only source of light.

He flips over a page of the photo album, letting out a breath at the picture of his mother, with him as a little baby in her arms, and the sea stretching out infinitely behind them. Her smile is as bright as the sun, and she's looking over the camera, to the person behind it—his dad.

Wearing his lip away between his teeth, Felix finds himself wiping at his eyes, shocked to find tears escaping down his cheeks. He's been sat out here for the better part of two hours. It's just past one in the morning, and after his father went to sleep Felix snuck back downstairs and came outside, photobook and torch in hand. He'd made his way to the graves further behind the house—where they were dug years ago, when this part of the cemetery had only just been opened.

And right in the corner, shadowed over by a great willow tree, is Yoonjung Lee's grave.

Felix frequently sees his father lingering around this part of the grounds, making sure the tree is perfectly trimmed back so the plot gets sunlight and cleaning it so the name is always visible. The seldom occasions where Felix visits it himself, it's always in the dead of night—out of sight of his father and avoiding the other visitors that appear throughout the day.

He readjusts the torch under his chin, giving himself a moment of sucking in steady breaths to release the tight feeling in his throat.

A branch cracks behind him.

Felix is on his feet in seconds, torch clutched in his fist, illuminating the gate. He waits. His breaths come out shallow, feet rooted to the ground. He peeks out from round the side of the house.

There's no one there.

No, wait—there, crouched on the other side of the gate, Felix can see their back pressed against the wooden beams with their head dipped forward, chin resting on their chest.

He steps closer, shoes brushing silently over the grass. He daren't call out.

Their shoulders shake, and a choked sob escapes them. It's stops Felix in his tracks. "Hello?" he forces his voice to be loud enough to reach the boy's ears although it strains him, and when he doesn't react at first, Felix is sure it was too quiet. He's about to speak again when his head lifts and finally, the boys looks at him.

Jeongin stares at Felix with a broken expression, and for a moment Felix's heart leaps, before he realises there's virtually no light on him; Jeongin won't stand a chance at recognising him here. He lets out a breath.

"Jeongin?" He calls carefully.

The boy stands up, slowly. "Who are you?"

Felix shoves away the pang of hurt in his chest.

"Why are you here so late? The cemetery's closed."

Jeongin shuffles his feet about in the gravel, head hanging. "What are you doing then? And how... how do you know who I am?"

"I live here," Felix says. Jeongin mutters an 'oh' in response, hands tied to his sides and Felix notices his fingers clicking manically. He licks his lips, trying to fabricate an answer to how he knows Jeongin, but nothing comes to mind. "Do you... want to come inside?" he asks instead.

"How do I know you're not a serial killer? I can't even see your face."

"Someone should write a book like that..." Felix thinks out loud. "Imagine that, a serial killer working in a graveyard so they can bury the bodies inconspicuously. But I don't even know where my dad keeps the shovels, let alone how to hide a body." He finishes speaking just as his voice fades out, and has to clear his throat before listening for Jeongin's reply.