YOUTH. | JK | COMPLETE

silver linings

IN MY LIFE
THE BEATLES

There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone, and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead, and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new

Jeongguk feels overwhelming nostalgia as he and Haneul walk the streets of his hometown. He recognizes it, but at the same time, he doesn't. The view of the ocean is the same, but there's paved streets and sidewalks, tall, looming buildings obstructing it. They pass a fountain that Jeongguk remembers being huge and marvelous, made of marble and shooting water high into the air, but now the stone is cracked and mildew ridden, and it runs dry, just looking dilapidated and sad. He can feel Haneul watching him, surveying his wide eyed expression. She's worried for him, he knows it, and he feels bad for making her worry, but this is too much for him to process. He hasn't been back to Busan since before Jimin died, and it shows.

Jimin.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks as he looks up at a vaguely familiar building. It's old, but it has clearly been renovated. One similarity is uncanny and far from coincidence—the name.

Son's Bar—Established 1843

Jeongguk's knees go weak, his mind racing a million miles a minute, thoughts plagued by that night, his seventieth birthday. Though the night was blurred by alcohol and pleasure, he vividly remembers everything he wishes he wouldn't. His eyes travel across the street, and see a run down building, reading a sign that labels it a storage warehouse. Jimin's old apartment. Everything is too real here. It remind him that his dreams aren't just figments of his imagination. Sure, the wedding he sees in his dreams never happened, but the basis of the nightmare is true: Jimin wasn't fated to be his, nor were they ever married.

Seeing the place where it all began only makes it hurt more.

"Jeongguk?" Haneul murmurs, sounding muffled and far away. He hardly feels one of her hands gripping his, but he snaps out of his daze when her hand comes in contact with his cheek. Jeongguk jolts forward in surprise. Haneul steadies him, concern evident on her face and in her gentle yet firm touch. "Jeongguk, are you okay? Why are you crying?" She asks softly. Her hand comes up again to wipe at the skin of his cheekbones, and only then does he realize they're wet with salty tears. He blinks a few times to get rid of any more, catching his uneven breath.

"Sensory overload, I suppose." He says softly, voice hoarse and throat tight with the lump in it. Haneul nods a little, and he can tell that she doesn't quite believe him, but he feels endless gratitude to her when she doesn't push him to tell the whole truth.

"Okay. Alright, let's go to my place, yeah? I'll cook something there for us." She suggests, and Jeongguk manages a small nod of agreement, trying to smile. It looks more like a grimace. Haneul begins to withdraw her hand, but Jeongguk clings tighter to it, interlacing their fingers. Her small, lithe hand fits nicely in his own. A surgeon's meticulous hand inside his own, calloused, farmer's hand. If Haneul minds the affectionate gesture, she doesn't show it. Jeongguk feels a gentle squeeze, and then she's leading him down the street, and towards a set of stairs. Jeongguk lets his curiosity distract him from the overwhelmingly present sense of feeling like a foreigner in his own home. He lets Haneul be his anchor to reality.

"Haneul?" He asks.

"Yeah, babe." She answers, and Jeongguk feels his heart swell. He knows she calls everyone that—Hoseok, nurses, the other doctors—but he can't help but feel special, as stupid as it is. Haneul has that effect on him.