on pieces of dyed rays | woosan

Chapter Nineteen

tw //  attempt at suicide (briefly mentioned)

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The smell of sweet dough being baked wafts in the still chilly air, tingling Wooyoung's nostrils in a pleasant way. He starts to think his favourite food really is fish bread, considering how often he has it. He even dares to get in a line full of teenage girls to order a bag, not that Wooyoung has a shame left to spare.

The old man has a permanent frown on his face, his lips always turned downwards and has one of those rugged, chunky hands. He probably looks more suited for a blacksmith but he makes the best fish bread in the city. He pays the old man in exchange for the bag of fish bread, and walks off to the bridge, throwing one snack in his mouth.

It's close to five in the afternoon, and Mapo Bridge has cars busily running over it, only to get busier as night approaches. The day has gotten longer as the season moves forward to Spring, but the sun still sets early and all Wooyoung sees is the remains of tangerines in the horizon.

The gradation from orange at the horizon to the navy in the middle of the sky reminds him of the photo he took—that one that got him a kaleidoscope—and he wonders how people differentiate dawn from dusk. Is it the expectation of a brand-new day, having gotten rid of yesterday's mistakes? Is it the gratitude of having survived another gruesome day in the pathetic world? For Wooyoung, it's the same blandness he tastes, watching the sun rise and fall.

His eyes trail over the short phrases written on the handrail that supposedly helps in suicide prevention as he walks by it. He stops his feet at one phrase, that says, "How was your day?" and throws in another fish bread in his mouth.

Oh, this feels very familiar.

Except, that happened when the sun was shining on the other side of the world and the city was swallowed in darkness.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung were bitter that day. They lost a big fish and instead bought a bag of small fish breads to make them feel better, from the same old man, less wrinkled back then. Then they jogged over to Mapo Bridge, motivated to do something stupid—not jumping off from it but something like breaking a property—because they were just feeling that vexed.

That's when they met Jongho, in the middle of the bridge, bending his body on the handrail, leaning a little too dangerously towards the river below. They didn't even have to wonder what he was doing at such a place in the middle of the night—the place was a hot spot for suicide.

The figure in the school uniform jolted as the flashlight on Hongjoong's smartphone hit him. He looked wary, scared and alarmed.

"Didn't mean to disturb you," Hongjoong said, twisting his phone so that the light wasn't hitting Jongho's face. "Please carry on whatever you were doing."

Wooyoung gave Jongho a glance, who looked dumbfounded, then followed Hongjoong who was flashing lights on death prevention slogans and ridiculing them.

"Aren't you guys going to stop me?" Jongho, who had been staring at the two, planning on what kind of chaos they should create, asked.

"Do you want us to?" Wooyoung took fish bread from the bag in his hand and munched on it.

Jongho's eyes wavered, his face painted with confusion. And he's probably right. A normal person would try to stop anyone attempting suicide, hell, even these inanimate object that are handrails with heartwarming family photos and words were trying to, even if the success rate was questionable. But the thing was, Hongjoong and Wooyoung weren't normal.

There was a pregnant silence hanging in the air, not even a car passing by late at night, until he eventually answered. "...No?"

"Cool. I think we're in agreement then."

Hongjoong scanned through the handrail, fake gagging at the fake smiles of a pseudo family, and reading the slogans out loud, with a mocking tone.

"I don't recommend that style of killing yourself though," Hongjoong muttered, in the middle of his inspirational recital. "Drowning to death is one of the worst ways of dying," he says, his tone as casual as if he was talking about the weather. "Anyway, you do you, man."

For a moment, Jongho looked like he was going to cry. But he pulled a straight face soon after, and gave a vague nod. His attention drawn back to the corny slogans, Hongjoong hummed as he found one to his liking. He snatched a fish bread from Wooyoung's bag, took out a pocket knife and started chiselling letters next to the phrase.

"You're damaging a public property," Jongho murmurs, as if it's hard to believe.

"So?" Hongjoong shrugged.

"That's illegal."

"My whole existence is." He chortled but soon growled at how difficult engraving on a metal was.

Jongho didn't bother asking more but neither did he step forward to the handrail. Instead he stood there, watched Hongjoong pass the knife to Wooyoung, saying it's too much work and he should complete the rest. Wooyoung huffed, mocked how weak his hyung was, receiving a smack before he decided to follow his order.

After completing a phrase with almost indecipherable letters, grumbling judgmentally at it, Hongjoong turned to Jongho, who had his body completely facing them.

"What are you looking at?" Hongjoong asked him lazily. "Either you jump or you join us."

Wooyoung held out the knife to Jongho. He slowly glanced at the knife, then to Wooyoung. His eyes confused, battling with something Wooyoung will never know internally, and above all, desperate.

It's a while before Jongho stepped forward, and reached for the knife with his hand—his trembling hand. He fluttered his eyes shut for a second, before he opened it again, reflecting something different in his eyes.

"Come on, dude." Hongjoong tilted his hand and pestered the young recovering boy. "We got work to do."

Jongho added another phrase after Hongjoong and Wooyoung's ugly work, after their not so serious but crucial discussion on what it should be. They wrote it down, observed their work with crossed arms, and nodded, toasting with already cold fish bread for completion.

And perhaps, Jongho cried a little then. But it was too dark for Wooyoung to tell.

Wooyoung's fingers trace the carved writing next to the question.

"How was your day today?" They ask.

It says, "It was shit." and it follows, "But we're still alive."