five. 11 hours, 0 minutes

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His desk hadn't been used since graduating.

Loaded with stationery and two pens, he decided to clear his weighted mind.

As he sat in his desk chair, university felt like a different life, yet only three years had passed.

Memories like this are strange.

He felt as if waking up to his alarm, packing his homework, and walking into class the next morning would be perfectly reasonable. But also, he felt as if that experience never really happened at all - a dream, a parallel time.

His bedroom was much brighter now compared to this morning. No longer an archaic grey, rather doused in crisp sun reflected from the snow and ice outside.

As children, he and Yeosang would play sword fights with the icicles they could gather. One time, he opened up a ladder from the shed for Yeosang to climb. But even then, the tips of his small fingers barely reached the point.

Another parallel memory.

He set out the stationery in an orderly manner. Yeosang, he wrote at the top. The easiest one first.

Then his pocket vibrated.

"Hello?" He answered the phone.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," Yeosang's deep voice sang out roughly over the cell network, "happy birthday to Hyuuunggg, happy birthday to you! And many morrreeee~" He could imagine Yeosang adding jazz hands at the last part.

His heart was shot. Clenched. Broken.

And many more echoed through his mind.

"I love you Hyung!"

He laughed, "thank you Yeosang-ah! What are you doing right now?"

Hongjoong doodled little hearts around the edges of his stationary paper.

"On top of Mount Taebaek. We had to reach the summit to get a signal."

"Happy birthday, Hyung!" Wooyoung called through the phone.

"Hyung," Yeosang fights to be heard through the wind, "did you get my card?"

But Hongjoong hadn't yet checked the mail.

They said goodbye after a final round of well wishes. He reminded them to stay warm, drink electrolytes and not merely water, and not to do anything stupid. (This last instruction was aimed at his brother's best friend.)

When the call ended, he went back to staring at the stationary laid out on his desk.

Yeosang was all it said.

His phone screen lit up with the change of an hour. 13:00.

Twenty-Four Hours || k.hj Where stories live. Discover now