small words || jeongcheol

34: memories.

"Wait. Where are we going?" Jeonghan questioned.

Seungcheol chuckled. "I did hint at it earlier, but I don't think you were listening."

"And?" he prompted, raising his eyebrows at Seungcheol.

The nurse just smiled and kept his eyes on the road.

"Seungcheol," he said curtly, making the older laugh quietly. "Seungcheol!" Jeonghan whined, and the nurse just shook his head and pulled into a parking lot, where he found a space and stopped the car.

"We're here," Seungcheol said simply, turning to see Jeonghan's annoyed expression.

"You could have just answered me," he huffed, peering out of the window. The building to their left was a big old one with pillars at the front and a large poster showing the latest collection they were displaying. "An art gallery?" he asked curiously, to which Seungcheol nodded.

Before the long-haired boy could ask why, Seungcheol was leaning over to knuckle his seatbelt for him, opening the door from the inside.

"That was unnecessary," Jeonghan said, feeling rather flustered.

Seungcheol shrugged. "Lots of things are unnecessary," he replied, getting out of the car.

Jeonghan shook his head, climbing out and closing the door behind him. Seungcheol locked the car and motioned for Jeonghan to lead the way, and so he did, the two of them approaching the huge building. Seungcheol paid for their entry as they went inside, Jeonghan having a little look around the gift shop. His fingers twitched as he remembered his empty canvases and paint at home, along with the ones he had started but had no motivation to finish.

"Want a drink?" Seungcheol asked, standing by a vending machine.

"Water is fine," said Jeonghan, tearing his gaze away from the paintings that had been turned into small prints. But when Seungcheol handed him a bottle of peach iced tea, he frowned at the older man. "I asked for water," he said, "do you know how many calories are in this?"

"But this is nicer," he pointed out. "Anyway, we should go and have a look at the art."

Jeonghan was muttering to himself as he followed Seungcheol up a grand staircase, which the nurse joked was also 'part of the art'.

"I think we're in the realism section," Seungcheol remarked, glancing at the leaflet he had picked up on the way in.

"Mm," Jeonghan mumbled as he wandered along the hall, looking at the paintings. The art was good, but nothing grabbed Jeonghan's attention much, other than an extremely realistic piece depicting Icarus falling through the sky with large, feathery wings. The young man in the picture didn't look afraid, his blond hair and silk robes billowing in the wind, but the darkness below wasn't exactly comforting. Jeonghan moved on.

"This one is interesting," Seungcheol remarked of a sculpture.

"Boring," the long-haired boy said, barely blinking an eye at it. Seungcheol rolled his eyes when Jeonghan whined to make him carry his drink, but the nurse let him put it in his small rucksack (even though he called him lazy, which made Jeonghan roll his eyes in turn).

The two wandered around some more, Jeonghan finding little interest in most of the pieces (apart from one beautiful dress in butterfly colours) until they came to a display of art bordering more on abstract. The colours were a mix if garish and monotone, with bright reds and blues standing out from the washed out grays on the rest of the piece. There were three canvases depicting a woman and a child, throughout their lives.

Jeonghan paled as he took in the paintings.

The mother was smoking, clear bottles scattered the table behind her and her small son was tugging at her robe, clearly being ignored. In the second picture, he was older, and she looked like she was about to hit him. In the final canvas, the boy had grown into his teenage years, smoking a cigarette and walking away from his angry mother.

"This is really emotional," Seungcheol sighed, staring up at the third painting.

Jeonghan clenched his fists so hard that his nails pressed into his palms. He wanted to look away, but it was like he was looking at his own life from the outside. But all the memories were inside his head as shouts echoed and his skin flinched from blows that weren't happening at that moment. But his body remembered.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol said quickly, noticing that the younger had begun to shake. "Han?"

Jeonghan shook his head and turned to go. He wanted to get away from those horrible paintings. He wanted desperately to forget everything that had ever happened to him. He didn't even realise he was crying until Seungcheol wrapped him in a tight hug and his tears were wetting the nurse's shirt.

"It's okay, I'm here," he murmured, rubbing Jeonghan's back as the younger wept into his shoulder.

"S-seungcheol," he stammered, clinging to Seungcheol's and glad no one else was in that room.

"It's okay," he repeated quietly, slowly calming him. "Do you want to leave?"

Jeonghan nodded into his chest and Seungcheol stroked his hair. The long-haired boy choked back a sob, wiping his eyes and looking up at the nurse. Seungcheol offered a smile.

"Let's go, okay?" he said, and Jeonghan nodded again, slipping his hand into Seungcheol's.

His heart fluttered when the older squeezed his hand before the two made their way back towards the entrance.

"You okay now?" Seungcheol asked as they stood on the steps outside the building, giving Jeonghan's hand another warm squeeze.

"Better," he mumbled.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" Seungcheol suggested, holding Jeonghan's hand as they walked to the car.

"Did you have somewhere planned?" Jeonghan questioned.

"The cafe we went to last time," he answered. "Want to go there?"

Jeonghan sniffed, nodding. "Okay," he said simply, and that was enough for Seungcheol to smile and open the car door for him, shutting it gently after he had got in.

When Seungcheol got in the driver's seat, he paused before putting the key in the ignition. He looked at Jeonghan who, to his surprise, was staring right back at him. He reached out a tucked a loose lock of hair behind Jeonghan's ear, and it was all Jeonghan could do to stop himself from grabbing Seungcheol's hand and keeping it pressed to his cheek. The touch was fleeting, but warm. And Jeonghan still wanted more.

"What upset you, Han?" Seungcheol asked quietly. "Was it the paintings?"

Jeonghan sighed, almost silently. "It was more than that... But seeing the paintings upset me," he mumbled, wanting to look away but finding his gaze locked on Seungcheol's.

The nurse's brow furrowed slightly. "What was it about them?" he questioned, "They were pretty hard to look at. Did..." He didn't finish his question; he didn't want to. The chance that Jeonghan could have gone through-

"My parents," he almost whispered, so quiet that Seungcheol found himself leaning in a little to catch Jeonghan's words. "My mom used to be like that. Used to hit me, when I was younger." He swallowed shakily, not wanting to continue, not wanting to relive everything his mind had forced to the forefront when he looked at those paintings.

"I'm sorry," Seungcheol murmured, "I didn't know."

Jeonghan gave a small smile. "It's okay," he told the older, tearing his gaze away from him. "Actually... my dad was a lot worse. But he left when I was eight."

Seungcheol gave a slight nod.

"Anyway, I don't usually think about it much," Jeonghan said hurriedly, shaking his head, "I guess seeing that art just brought it all back." He met Seungcheol's eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?" Seungcheol asked in a small voice.

"You're already doing brilliantly," Jeonghan said, smiling a little.

"Maybe... a hug?" he suggested.

"That would be great," Jeonghan laughed.

Because in that moment, that was enough.