until next winter | taegyu

chapter zero

at 17 years old, kang taehyun walks quietly along the narrow streets of his hometown, alone.

he finds himself trudging along old brick walkways accompanied by rusted railings, overlooking the deep blue; the quiet waters underneath glisten in the reflection of the moon, and at times glow from the effervescent rays of the sun. mostly filled with the chirping of distant crickets and the sound of life just a few blocks away, the stillness of this lonely bridge is rarely broken; when it is, it is only by the occasional roars of cars or delivery bikes passing by. after all, nobody ever enters such a small, deserted town.

this sight is something so familiar to taehyun. so familiar that he can recognize which street lamps flicker just by the chipped patterns on their metal bases, so familiar that he can average the minutes it takes to float from one end of the bridge to the other. (33 minutes on a good day, 40 if the ground is covered in snow. he'll get 3/4 of the way through his krnb playlist before he has to turn around and head back.) sometimes, the sight of the lonely bridge feels so much like home, that taehyun thinks he can hear the cracks in the surface crying out for help, broken and in pain from being driven over repeatedly, over, and over, and over again. if he listens hard enough, they'll whisper to him that they can't hold on much longer, and that soon, at any moment, they might split apart and cascade into the water, the unknown.

today, the cracks in the surface don't cry out to him, never mind attempt to speak to him. their voices are stifled, covered by a thick sheet of fresh, white snow, not stepped in, not driven in. pure, untouched, and perfect. taehyun admires it for a while as he works his way through untangling his earphones, admires the way that the light shining from the street lamp makes the snow appear as if it's sprinkled with a magical, iridescent blanket of glitter. he taints it not long after, stepping forward.

immediately, taehyun is met with the sensation of cold, damp slush seeping in through his shoes. it tickles his feet and drenches his socks in a wet and clammy mess, sending a shiver up his spine. taehyun groans, mentally scolding himself for deciding to wear converse sneakers on a day when the snow is piled six inches high; for a moment, he thinks to make a u-turn back home and grab his winter boots instead.

he doesn't, though. because turning around means corrupting his eta for the end of the bridge, and pushing back his playlist by two or three songs. it means ruining his perfect array of concaving footsteps that follow close behind him, his left, right, one, two. turning around means creating a new, second pair of steps next to his previous ones, this time in the opposite direction, so now it's one, two, three, four...

suddenly, taehyun chokes up. the familiarity of this bridge and this snow and this everything becomes too much it overwhelms him, engulfs him from the feet upwards until he can feel the cold air fill his lungs and clog his throat and then materialize at his eyes, threatening to spill out in the form of sticky, stinging tears. he watches as memories explode before him, the memories that had been safely tucked away by this very town and this very bridge for the past four years, now unleashed and punching him in the face with fists that left cuts like daggers.

taehyun stops walking, and averts his gaze to the soft white below. it tells him everything, spelling it out slowly, one by one.

four years ago was the last time it had snowed like this.

four years ago was the winter of 2018, when choi beomgyu left, and didn't come back.

two years before that was the winter of 2016, the best winter of taehyun's life.

at 11 years old, kang taehyun walked, sometimes skipped, excitedly along the narrow streets of his hometown, giggling at the fireflies illuminating the navy sky, hand in hand with a boy who was one year older and only an inch taller.

at 11 years old, kang taehyun knew of two things and two things only: the flurrying snow, and the boy who held his hand in it.

taehyun feels weak in his legs. the nearest bench is still a ten-minute walk away, and he can't imagine holding himself up much longer. so he falls on his knees, allowing the snow to cushion his plummet downwards.