Forbidden Desire | sunsun

11: New beginnings

Things don't change. At least, not in a way that matters.

Sunoo still catches glimpses of Sunghoon around the mansion, slipping through a cracked doorway or around a crumbling corner. Sometimes it's the tip of his jacket that Sunoo hears — a rustle of soft fabric against skin. Other times it's the quiet padding of his footsteps on the faded carpet, distant and far away. Sunoo can't help but react to each sound, his spine stiffening and his toes curling at any offer of Sunghoon's existence. Reassurance that he hasn't left.

Sunoo listens. He always does. He tilts his head non-perceptively when Sunghoon enters a room, eyes flickering over his frame when he works. Sunghoon never looks back and Sunoo tries and fails not to notice. It's all he has so he clings to it, and Sunghoon doesn't deny him the privilege the way he might have a few weeks ago.

Quiet resignation that this is it between them begins to settle in as the days roll by. With it, the string of hope that connected Sunoo to Sunghoon begins to fray.

Sunghoon isn't cruel to him, and maybe that's worse. Maybe it would feel better to experience his viciousness again, if just to receive the emotion from him, but like this, all Sunghoon offers is kind, quiet indifference. A pack of cigarettes when he runs out or a glass of warm tea on days Sunoo is late waking up in the morning, but nothing more.

It's really ruined, isn't it?

Sunghoon might not hate him like he used to, but what they have now leaves a bigger void inside Sunoo.

The days creep by, lazy and slow. Warm summer nights become tinted and tarnished with the cool promise of fall. The courtyard stays lush with green, but the fresh fruit gradually begins to taper off and the once vibrant petals on the flowers lining the stone pathway begin to close and wither away. It won't be cold for another month or two, but already nature is beginning to take itself back, piece by piece. The wind carries the shards of summer away, sweeping the wrinkled leaves along the cracked rock until nothing is left behind.

It's a hazy afternoon late in August when Sunoo sits in the sunroom smoking a cigarette. He lets most of it go to smoke, watching the thin, swirling smoke gather in the house until it's all-encompassing and thick. He ashes it into a small, crystal dish, then presses the end between his lips and inhales, savouring the warmth that fills his lungs. It's sticky and sweet even if Sunoo has never liked the taste of tobacco. It burns hot — which he likes — as much as he can feel it scarring his lungs.

There's days where Sunoo does a lot, and then there are days like today where he does nothing at all. He doesn't know which he hates more.

Eventually he stands, slipping out through the door onto the grass. Without shoes, the grass is soft beneath his feet and he knows he'll be scolded for dirtying his clothes, but in that moment he's free of purpose and obligation.

He's just Sunoo.

The sun burns pleasantly on Sunoo's back through his clothes and the warm cling of sweat makes his pants wrap around his thighs. He hears the buzz of late summer cicadas and the buzz of crickets in the haze of the heat as he brushes his hand along the tops of the grass.

When he reaches the large willow tree at the edge of the garden, Sunoo lays down on his back, spreading out his arms and legs. The leaves rustle above him, swaying in the cool breeze. He closes his eyes, his skin tingling with the feeling of the shade brushing across his sunburnt cheeks and rustling the collar of his shirt.

In the sanctity of the garden where he's completely alone, Sunoo wonders what it would be like to flee his father and Wonyoung — what it would be like to surround himself with all the strangers of the city that don't know his name, buying coffee at a nameless bodega and eating sandwiches in a park where no one looks at him. Being faceless and bland in a way that's new and exciting.