Moral of the Story || seongsang · 2ho

8. So it begins

"Being apart after over a decade together was hard. Both Yunjung and Jongho had moments where they'd just cry.

You know, when souls first meet, they're almost like regular people. Regular people you feel extremely comfortable around and quickly attach to. But every moment spent together is a moment put toward strengthening the bond until you can actually feel each other's skin.

And the boys weren't even properly together before Jongho's move. No, but now, finally, they were. Once apart, they were together.

Over the summer, Yunjung and Jongho were conjoined again, just like as children. Having had a taste of what it was like to part, they wanted to avoid that situation whenever possible.

And of course Eomma and Mama were happy to play chauffeur.

The younger's sixteenth birthday had come and passed, moving them soon into holiday break, a time greatly coveted after another long semester of mostly weekend visits.

Yunjung still hated coffee. Jongho still inhaled the stuff. But Yunjung at least had now gotten used to the smell; even appreciating it, not that he'd admit this, because it reminded him of Jongho.

Late on a November night, Jongho laid in bed with the puppy plushie his other half had won for him back in July.

Rolling onto his back, he held the dog, Shiber, up above him, staring into its beady eyes, and thought. Not that he wanted to be thinking, no, he wanted to sleep. But tossing and turning, Jongho remained very much awake. He wanted to talk with Yunjung, but the two only had landlines, of course, and he didn't want to wake the whole house.

So alone he laid, thinking. Thinking of all his screw-ups. All his little failures. All his angry outbursts. All the overly hyper moments he didn't quite consent to. . . and Jongho cried himself to sleep.

~~~

That December break was wonderful. The boys were together again, spending a week at Jongho's and one at Yunjung's. Both smiling their widest.

Going out in the snow, they fell down together and made angels. While sledding, only Yunjung fell off, albeit twice.

The older tried cooking, and Jongho's mama tried to help. . .but the only salvageable dish was fried rice. Honestly, Eomma and Jongho didn't know how it was possible to screw up so many dishes. But they weren't allowed into the kitchen, banned to setting the table instead.

And in the arms of Yunjung, the younger finally slept in ease.

They went out to see a town aglow with Christmas lights, and Jongho was so excited, bouncing and dancing and singing his beautiful high notes. He asked Yunjung to carry him around, and of course, the older obliged.

Thankfully for Jongho, the more he grew, the taller his Soul got, too, so he always fit in his arms.

The next morning, Jongho cried.

March rolled around and they celebrated the older's 18th birthday. . . Next year you're an adult, they told him. And next year came quickly.

'Hey old man!' Jongho shouted running around his room.

'YA! Jongho-ah! Where's the respect for your elders, huh?' But Yunjung was laughing too. He tackled Jongho onto his bed and began tickling him, giggling.

'Hyung! Hyung, wait!' Jongho looked up at the concerned face of the boy on top of him and laughed again. 'Hyung, you're so sweet.'