For Eternity

Yoon Bum entered the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet. The room, a carefully constructed facade of normalcy, was a sharp reminder of the world beyond—unreachable and fading from Sangwoo's grasp like the sun he no longer felt on his skin. In his hands, Yoon Bum carried a child's puzzle, its pieces bright and colorful, inviting yet oddly out of place.

Sangwoo watched him approach, a blend of confusion and mockery clear in his expression, mixed with an unacknowledged anticipation for the company and diversion Yoon Bum provided.

"What's this?" Sangwoo's voice cut through the silence, dripping with disdain as he examined the puzzle Yoon Bum had laid out before him. "A game for kids? You're running out of ways to entertain me, Bum." Despite his mocking tone, a part of Sangwoo couldn't ignore the growing dependency on these interactions, a truth he buried deep within.

Yoon Bum responded with a simple shrug, his smile puzzling and hard to read, hinting at layers of emotion Sangwoo could only guess at—desperation, perhaps, or a deep-seated hope. "It's part of the rules," he stated calmly, his tone betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. "A simple task. I'm sure it will be easy for you," he added, suggesting a purpose beyond mere entertainment, perhaps a step towards the healing and closeness Yoon Bum so often spoke of as their second chance.

Sangwoo snorted, skepticism and a flicker of amusement in his gaze as he eyed the colorful pieces. The task was absurd, almost laughably so, beneath him. Yet, as his eyes scanned the easy assembly of pieces, he felt a stir—a blend of boredom and an emerging curiosity to see what Yoon Bum considered a reward. It was a distraction, however trivial, from the monotony that enveloped him.

With an eye roll and a begrudging sense of curiosity, Sangwoo relented. "Fine. This is ridiculous, but if it gets you off my back..." he muttered, his fingers moving with dismissive ease. The puzzle, clearly designed for much younger minds, was completed in mere minutes, not that it needed much brain power to complete.

Yoon Bum watched the entire process quietly, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a faint, knowing smile as Sangwoo placed the last piece. "I knew you could do it," he said, his praise simple yet laden with deeper implications, touching on the potential for growth and understanding he saw in these minor challenges.

"It's a child's game. Next time, bring me something that actually challenges me," Sangwoo retorted, his voice laced with dismissive pride. Yet, deep down, the simple task had ignited a spark of stimulation, a welcome distraction from the sameness that filled his days, marking the passage of time by Yoon Bum's visits alone.

"Of course, I'm happy that you're participating," Yoon Bum agreed, his smile persisting, unshaken by Sangwoo's facade. "As for your reward, you get to choose what's for dinner tonight," he offered, presenting an unexpected but intriguing choice.

Sangwoo eyed him, a complex mix of interest and indifference swirling within. The reward may have been trivial, but the opportunity to make even a small decision about his own life unexpectedly compelled him, highlighting the extent to which his existence had been reduced to these moments with Yoon Bum.

"Fine. Then I want something with beef," Sangwoo said, deciding not to dwell on the significance of such a minor choice, yet internally acknowledging the importance of these small freedoms.

Yoon Bum offered a nod of acknowledgment to Sangwoo's choice for dinner, the atmosphere in the room already beginning to shift. "Sounds good," he said, his voice carrying a formality that hinted at the depth of their next interaction. "Now, let's get started with our session for today." He moved to the center of the room, the space between them charged with unspoken tension.