MYSTERY OF PAIN

THIS IS HOME¹

(Get a load of this trainwreck
His hair's a mess and he doesn't know how who he is yet
But little do we know the stars
Welcome him with open arms)

THIS IS HOME.

"What if you missed your plane?" San says, leaning back against the tree in his garden, their initials fresh in the soft bark.

"My mom would book another," Hongjoong replies.

"What if you missed all the planes, Hongjoong? What if you stayed? Here, with me?" San's voice shakes as he speaks.

"San, you know I can't."

"You could. You could if you wanted it enough. If you wanted me enough."

"I do want you," Hongjoong retorts, holding out his hand for San to take.

San does so, pensively.

Then, he says: "But it isn't enough, is it? I'm not enough."

━

San was enough. But it doesn't matter anymore. In the grand scale of Hongjoong's life, the summer they shared is but a wonderful dream he barely remembers.

Any hope of seeing San again is long gone, but Hongjoong can't help the way his heart beats a little faster when he thinks he catches a dimpled smile from the corner of his eye.

The hollow feeling in his chest never really left. He's not sure he wants it to.

Because there is something maddeningly beautiful about falling in love in the summer. It's magical, but only so because it's short. It flares up bright and quick like a candle, easily snuffed out by autumn winds.

There is no one to blame but time.

San walked into his life like the first rays of sunshine at dawn and left him like the last, lingering beams of sunlight disappearing over the horizon.

He cemented himself like a rock that refused to budge, no— like a mountain: Strong, tall, and unmoving.

He gave Hongjoong everything, and Hongjoong found refuge between San's ribs, made a home in his arms, and a wonderland, together.

But no matter how many pieces San carved out of himself to give to Hongjoong, whom he loved, Hongjoong never could have stayed.

It's the fate of glass to shatter, as it was for Hongjoong to love San. And much like glass, their love shattered, too.

It truly felt great to be loved, Hongjoong thinks, and it was heavenly while it lasted; San's breath against his own, hands brushing strands of fire from his face, before setting him ablaze in an inferno of emotions with a single kiss.

But naïve teenage dreams of harmony and tranquility are quick to tear. Like opening Pandora's Box, fears of abandonment and loneliness returned, escaping the shards and unleashing themselves back into Hongjoong's life.

San's face has long since melted into a disoriented soup of unrecognizable features, swimming around inside his head, never pausing enough to let him see the whole picture. Save for the poorly taken photograph Hongjoong keeps of him, San is forgotten.