Harbor

Chapter 8: Quiet Waters

Kyung Won woke that morning with a tightness in his chest, his heart heavy as if it were drowning in memories. The same, oppressive feeling that visited him every year on this day. As sunlight peeked through the curtains, he shut his eyes, hoping to block it out. But it was too late. The dreams from the night before clung to him—Jeong Han's face, so vivid, laughing one moment, and then calling out to him in desperation the next.

He sat up in bed, beads of sweat dampening his forehead, and his breath coming in shallow gasps. The dreams had been relentless lately, always circling back to that one tragic night. His chest ached, and his mind swirled in confusion and grief, as it always did on the anniversary of Jeong Han's death.

Today, the village would go on without him. The residents had long since learned that on this day, their ever-dedicated chief would not be present. His absence wasn't questioned. Some chalked it up to personal reasons, while others simply respected his need for solitude. Only a handful of the older villagers exchanged knowing glances, whispering that this day had been Kyung Won's ritual for as long as they remembered.

But no one knew why. No one knew the real story. Not until today.

At the harbor, the morning mist clung to the water, blurring the horizon where the sea met the sky. Min Hwan jogged along the familiar path, his feet hitting the gravel in a rhythmic pace that helped him clear his mind. His thoughts drifted—today was supposed to be a day of calm, of quiet reflection.

But as he approached the docks, he noticed a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the harbor, unmoving, staring out into the distance. It was Kyung Won. At first, Min Hwan smiled, raising a hand to wave, but then he stopped mid-motion. Something wasn't right. The usual warmth, the easy confidence that Kyung Won exuded, seemed to have been replaced by something dark and heavy.

Min Hwan slowed his pace, watching as Kyung Won remained lost in thought, his hands balled into fists on his lap. His usually upright posture slouched, as if the weight of the world had suddenly crushed down on his broad shoulders.

Concern rippled through Min Hwan, and after completing his laps, he decided to approach Kyung Won. He sat down beside him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, but far enough to give him space. For a while, neither of them spoke. The sound of the waves lapping against the pier was the only sound, mingling with the occasional rustle of the wind.

"You okay?" Min Hwan asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper, sensing the fragility of the moment.

Kyung Won exhaled deeply, his breath shaky. He didn't look at Min Hwan. "No. Not really."

There was something in Kyung Won's voice, something raw and unguarded. It was the kind of tone that Min Hwan had never heard from him before.

"You don't have to tell me anything," Min Hwan added quickly, his tone gentle but firm. "But I'm here, if you want to talk."

For a long moment, Kyung Won remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he began, "It's his death anniversary today."

Min Hwan felt his chest tighten, his heart instinctively knowing that this wasn't about a relative or a distant friend. This was something deeper. "Whose anniversary?"

Kyung Won swallowed hard, finally turning to meet Min Hwan's eyes. "Jeong Han," he said quietly, his voice breaking just a little at the name. "He was my... boyfriend. My partner in Seoul."

The admission hung between them, thick with emotion. Min Hwan blinked, taken aback but not by the revelation itself—rather, by the depth of pain he could feel radiating from Kyung Won.

"We met at university, lived together... worked for the same company," Kyung Won continued, his words spilling out slowly, as if he had rehearsed them in his mind but never aloud. "We were together for years. And then... one night, there was an accident."

Min Hwan's heart ached for him. He reached out tentatively, placing a hand on Kyung Won's arm. "You don't have to—"

But Kyung Won shook his head. "No, I do. I need to tell someone. I've kept it buried for too long."

The storm inside him broke as Kyung Won recounted that fateful night in Seoul—how he had argued with Jeong Han over something trivial, how Jeong Han had left in a rush, only to never return. A car accident, swift and merciless, had taken him away, leaving Kyung Won with nothing but memories and a crushing guilt that still gnawed at him.

"It's my fault," Kyung Won whispered, his voice cracking. "If I hadn't pushed him that night, if I hadn't let him leave like that—"

Min Hwan shook his head firmly, his grip on Kyung Won's arm tightening. "It wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

Kyung Won's eyes filled with tears, and for the first time, Min Hwan saw him truly vulnerable, completely exposed. "But it feels like it is. Every night, he comes back in my dreams. He's either laughing like nothing's wrong, or he's asking me why I didn't stop him. I can't... I can't get it out of my head."

The harbor, with its peaceful waters and golden light, felt miles away from the torment Kyung Won was living through. Min Hwan's heart broke for him. He wanted to reach out, to say the perfect words that would erase the pain, but he knew it wasn't that simple.

"Kyung Won, you need to talk to someone—someone who can really help you process this." Min Hwan's voice was soft but insistent. "A therapist. I know you've been carrying this for so long, but you can't do it alone anymore."

Kyung Won wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, a bitter laugh escaping him. "A therapist, huh? You think that'll fix me?"

"I don't think you're broken," Min Hwan said firmly, his gaze never leaving Kyung Won's. "But I think you've been carrying this weight for too long. You deserve help. You deserve to heal. And... I want to help you, but I can't do it alone."

The vulnerability in Min Hwan's voice was matched by the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, Kyung Won simply stared at him, the suggestion of professional help swirling in his mind—a possibility that had always seemed so far out of reach.

"You really think it's worth it?" Kyung Won asked, his voice quiet, almost defeated.

Min Hwan smiled softly, squeezing his arm gently. "I do. And I'll be here every step of the way."

They sat there in silence for a long while, the sun dipping lower into the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water. The waves lapped gently at the pier, and the breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed through the air.

Kyung Won took a deep breath, as if finally allowing himself to inhale fully for the first time in years. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Min Hwan leaned in closer, their shoulders brushing as he murmured, "Always."

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the stillness of the harbor, they shared something deeper than words. It was a promise—a fragile, tentative step towards healing, towards moving forward.

And for the first time in years, Kyung Won allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find peace again.