Traces and Storms

xxi

   The scent of strawberries and lilies entered my senses, the moment I stepped into his room. As always, his closet remained open. Although his room wasn't dirty, I wouldn't say it was clean, either. The books he brought from the living room downstairs were either strewn on his study desk or on the floor. His bed was unkempt, and his bin was overflowing with crumpled papers.

I approached his closet, and reached for the bottom. I slightly froze, upon realizing I could still remember where Jongin left his things. It wasn't easy to forget, after all. I carefully pulled out a pair of brown jogging pants from the neat pile of clothes and changed into them, before folding my jeans and placing it on his bed.

Jongin's working studio used to be their garage, but as the years passed by—with the help of his father—they managed to build an annex in their backyard. It smelled of wood shavings and varnish, but Jongin always managed to keep it clean—much cleaner than his room. The space was considerably wider, with his tools neatly lined up against the walls.

He handed me a pair of construction gloves, and wrapped his black scarf around my neck. It wasn't my first time helping him build things. So long as it was manageable, he would invite me over. Creating things from scratch wasn't my forte, but I did enjoy being a part of the process. Once, I told Jongin just how envious I was of him, considering he had that kind of imagination and logic to actually build things from raw materials.

"But you do it, too," he pointed out. "Only with words. It's magical to me, you know."

I looked around, and noticed his ongoing project. He really did use The Little Prince as his motif, with the planets shown in the book coming alive on the platform Jongin crafted on his own. I was left in awe, knowing he created something so delicate with his rough and callused hands.

"You also have that project," I said. "Will you have the time to make this shelf?"

"It's no big deal," he replied. "And I need this, too. As a stress reliever."

"Building the shelf, or being with me?" I blurted out.

Jongin fell silent, but he managed to salvage the awkward conversation with a scoff. "I'll leave that to your imagination."

We were in his studio for a good number of hours, measuring the dimensions and sawing wood. The both of us never really talked, and it was fine with me. That was how Jongin was, after all, whenever he was immersed in something. I watched him work most of the time, fitting the pieces which came together like jigsaw puzzles. His hands worked smoothly, grabbing one tool after the other with such grace and proficiency, it almost felt like he was dancing.

I helped with the polishing, and I was the one who applied the varnish. By the time I looked outside, it was already dark, and the fluorescent light above us was already turned on.

"I'll bring it over once it's dry," he said. "For now, why don't we order chicken?"

-::-

We were still the only ones in their house, because his parents worked overtime and his sister was still in the firm. The both of us stayed in the living room, with the smart television turned on. We ended up watching a series of micro-documentaries concerning nature as we waited for the food to arrive. The both of us had already showered by then, and I ended up borrowing a shirt from him, along with a towel. We didn't talk about it, and I suppose deep down, there still was a tinge of comfort between us remaining.

The deliveryman rang the doorbell by the time we started the video about koalas, and as we ate, I asked, "Why are we watching this again?"

"Knowing random things can help you bluff your way out of conversations, remember that."