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Lying in bed, Shingun stared at the ceiling, feeling empty and a bit weird. He was relieved that Jake hadn't pressured him about his odd behavior earlier. Jake had left in the morning, appearing irritated and concerned after Shingun explained he needed the day off, like off from him and everyone and that he couldn’t explain. It wasn't typical of him to act this way, but today was different. While he could have informed Jake in advance, he was at a loss for how to explain, and he didn't have it in him to explain so he chose the shorter route. He didn't owe Jake an explanation; the guy already knew so much about him, while Shingun knew hardly anything in return. Shingun already felt so vulnerable he could not add this on top. He could hardly manage himself today.
19th November.
The day his parents died in a car crash when he was five years old, he had hardly any memories from before, but hell, did he know about after. One moment, he was sitting in the backseat of the car; the next, blinding lights, a loud crash, glass, blood, and the broken corpses of his parents. Then the orphanage, followed by adoption to the States—it all went to shit on November 19th. How or even why he hadn’t died that day was beyond him. He had been in shock for months, seeing the faces of his dead parents whenever he closed his eyes. He couldn’t sleep or eat.
Surviving the crash with minor injuries—on the outside—no one cared for the rest. At one point, he learned to block out the memories of the car crash and his dead parents' faces to the extent that he couldn’t recall their faces at all. Trauma response at its finest, but at least it kept him alive. He had nothing left of his parents, no pictures, nothing. With every move from the orphanage to the so-called family he shared with Gren, and the three subsequent orphanages, he lost more and more of his few belongings from his past.
But he remembered the date because grief is a bitch, and it didn’t matter that it was 25 years ago. Shin had tried to battle the grief, attempting to deny and push it away, but it didn’t help. When he moved to New York and found himself a small apartment, things improved. He settled into some kind of routine, accepting the fate of the day. At least it really was just that day. Shin knew that tomorrow everything would be back to normal; he just had to give himself this day. Having given Liam a heads up yesterday, still new to the concept of having a regular job like this, Liam was considerate and didn’t question his excuse. So he had the day for himself and could allow himself to dwell in the grief and feel all of it today.
Sitting up, still dazed and feeling the weight of his grief in his bones, Shingun noticed the day felt as grey as always. Maybe, he mused, one day, if he and Jake were still... whatever, he could ask Jake to find the files of his parents. Jake had unearthed so many details about him; surely, he could locate his parents' files, even though Shingun couldn't recall their names. He had called his Korean mother "Mother" in Korean, as she spoke with him only in that language, and his father "Dad" in English, as he spoke English with him. Shin knew that his father was from the States; that's why Shin had dual citizenship and was transferred to the US. Sometimes, he vaguely remembered some sort of uniform, so perhaps his father had been in the military, not uncommon for American men in Korea.
After a quick shower, Shingun took a look at his apartment. It was small, consisting of one large room and a tiny bath. For someone not keen on being indoors much, it suited him well. Surprisingly, this space had accommodated both him and Jake for several weeks now with no signs of stress. Jake was tidier than Shingun; his clothes and few belongings were always in order. He even washed the dishes more frequently than Shingun.
Having lived literally on the streets, Shingun wasn't one for cleanliness and tidiness. He owned very little, so there wasn't much to make a mess. After numerous moves many times, he never truly settled. He had learned to live mostly in the present, but more as a means of avoiding thinking about anything else, rather than enjoying life—especially not trusting it. If he had money to spare, he would treat himself to better food, but possessions? No. He wouldn't take them with him the next time he moved, so why bother?
Checking the time, 9:45 am, Shingun changed the bedsheets and towels, then headed to the basement where the public washing machines were located. On a Wednesday morning, he was confident he'd find an empty one, and he did. Afterward, he forced himself to eat some cereal; eating still didn't come easy on this day. Next, he washed the dishes, gathering all the empty bowls and plates in the flat and cleaning them. He felt the tension in his shoulders relax a bit as he settled into his routine: cleaning the flat from top to bottom.
Opening the little cupboard, he took everything out, cleaned the cupboard, and then stored everything neatly in it. During this, he discovered four packs of different spices that Jake seemed to have bought because Shingun couldn't recall purchasing them. "That explains why the scrambled eggs tasted that good." Shingun mused and continued cleaning the kitchen.
Not big on cooking, Shingun often opted for cheap takeout or instant food but Jake preferred higher-quality meals and even made some dishes himself. Shingun added eggs and flour to his shopping list; perhaps it would lead to fresh pancakes again on Sunday. Afterward, he collected all the garbage and took it out.
Tidying up the living room, he found comfort in sorting things and bringing a bit of structure to his emptiness. It was a peculiar way of gaining some semblance of control, but Shingun had accepted this tradition. There were definitely worse coping mechanisms, and Shin had tried enough of them. So he worked his way through the flat, not forgetting the cleaning agent smelling like lemon, another memory.
About five years ago, Shingun was in a public restroom when the cleaning person was mid-cleaning, and everything smelled like lemon in a very specific way that triggered flashback memories of his mother. The memories were vague but happy, recalling moments of him and his mother tidying up his room together, laughing, with everything smelling like lemons. It took Shingun a while to find a cleaning agent that matched his memory, not too artificial, not too much orange, not too sharp, but he had found one that came close enough.
That's how cleaning had become his ritual to remember his parents' death.
Grief had funny ways of expressing itself, and then again, it could be worse. Shingun headed to the basement, started a load of clothes, and put the towels and bedsheets in the dryer. Then he went to the bathroom, once again grateful that the water in this building was deficient in lime. Checking the time, he realized it was well past lunch, but Shingun didn’t feel like taking a break. Later, he planned to go shopping for groceries to fill the very empty fridge and perhaps treat himself to some Korean sweets. With not only a steady but also a significant income, he could afford something nice. On this day, he always went for Korean food.
First, the vacuum cleaner, and then mopping the floor, something Shingun really didn’t do that often. Jake didn't comment on anything, but he used his slippers for every step on the floor, and while cleaning, Shingun could see why.
Cleaning the flat now that it was shared was definitely different. Not only did he find spices, but he also discovered several weapons in Jake's part of the wardrobe—not that it really surprised him, but still. There was also a new bottle of shampoo and a new cutting knife. Shingun had been aware of the coffee that Jake had brought—insisting on something better than the instant coffee Shin used to drink—but the rest went under his radar.
Living with Jake was surprisingly easy. It was also irritating how close they could be without knowing much about each other. Shingun's attempts to dig up information on Jake had been fruitless, and somehow he didn’t care; there were things he did not want to know. Shingun knew firsthand that Jake was a killer and didn't desire more details. Yet, despite all the danger associated with Jake, Shingun felt safe with him in a way that was new to him. Even the grief did not hit as hard as it did last year.
Back to the basement and off to the grocery store, restocking the fridge and the bedside table after cleaning out all the rather empty tubes of lube. On his way back, he got a text from Jake: "How are you? Do you have plans for dinner, or do you need more space? When may I come home?" Shingun smiled. The difference from last year was blatant. In the past, Shingun had felt so depressed that he spent the evening drinking in a Korean bar until he passed out. Now he felt way more at ease and was looking forward to being with Jake again.
“Dinner sounds fine.”
“In or out?”
“Don’t care.”
“Gonna pick you up at 7.”
Shingun went home and finished the last tasks of his routine, changing his shirt. While checking his hair in the mirror, he realized that he was getting nervous, like a date nervous. It felt oddly intimate to meet up with Jake on this day, and Shingun still wasn’t sure about how to talk about his grief. It had always been his most private feeling, one he did not share with anyone. How to explain? Did Jake understand grief? Did he even know this feeling? According to him, his parents were still alive. Did he ever lose someone close? Who? How? Questions started to pile up in his head when his mobile rang, and Jake informed him that he was waiting outside.
Shingun went outside to find the white McLaren in front of the building. Getting into the car, he was still nervous and unsure how to handle questions about his behavior. But Jake did his thing, not saying a word, just gently and intensely observing him. He started the car, took Shins' hand while driving off silently, and Shingun relaxed into his seat. Not that he would admit it, but he enjoyed Jake’s way of taking control. Especially in this vulnerable state, he felt safe letting Jake take the lead, not caring where they were heading.
Lost in thoughts, Shingun realized the car had stopped, and Jake was looking at him with a tender gaze that might make Shingun’s ears blush just a tiny bit. He tried to compose himself..
“So, where are we?”
“Close to Manhattan. There’s a small restaurant down the street”
With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, Jake got out of the car, and Shingun followed him. After a few steps, he could make out the restaurant and stopped in his tracks. It was a small Korean restaurant. Shingun glanced at Jake, who was again observing him quietly. Shingun wasn’t really surprised, but still:
"How?”
"Well, it is your comfort food, and you had a difficult day, so..." he shrugged, and Shingun just shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. How much did Jake already know?
They entered, and Shingun felt the smell of the open kitchen wash over him like a warm embrace. He sighed and followed Jake to a little booth in the corner. They sat next to each other, and Shingun looked around. The place was nothing fancy, more a comfy, traditional, messy spot—just what he needed. He could hear the staff talking in Korean with each other, not understanding it but feeling the warmth of memories embracing him. After a moment, he realized another smell behind the cooking and turned around to find a quiet corner in the back with a small shrine and incense sticks burning in front of it. Traditional indeed.
Shingun did not have memories of a shrine at his parents' home, but he figured his mother would have had one for her family, while his father's might have been a Christian. Shingun never really got into religion in general, but on this day, it often stung that he had no place to go—no grave, church, or whatever. Religions offered rituals, places, a sort of community around grief, and he could understand the appeal.
The waiter came, and they ordered. Jake still kept comfortably quiet. While waiting, Shingun kept looking back at the shrine and the incense sticks, his fingers itching to burn one but not quite confident enough yet to just do it. He did not want to overstep religious rules he did not know about.
The food came, and Shingun dug in after a long day with only cereals and some sweets. It tasted delicious, and Shingun lost himself in the indulgence. Only after three additional courses did he lean back and pat his full belly, a content sigh escaping him. He could hear Jake laughing and saw the man looking at him with a smile in his eyes. Shingun felt at ease and just smiled back. Jake took his hand and placed a soft kiss on it.
"I’m sure no one will care if you go for one of those incense sticks.”
Shingun just stared at him, his ears turning pink, feeling as if Jake once again just read his soul like an open book. And once again, Shingun found himself not minding that much because of the look in Jake’s eyes full of concern, care, and maybe something more.
To distract himself from that particular trail of thoughts, Shingun drowned his drink and walked up to the little shrine. Some fresh sticks on the left, a little bowl of sand in the middle to put them in, candles, flowers, and pictures of people he obviously did not know but didn’t care. Shingun took one of the sticks, burned the tip with one of the candles, and placed it in the bowl. He could feel the last bit of tension in his shoulders loosen up when he could smell the sweet scent of the incense.
After a moment of peace, he gave the shrine a slight bow and returned to Jake, who was again watching him intensely.
"Did you know they had a shrine?"
"Maybe," Jake could not keep the smug smile hidden.
Shingun just shook his head: "Let's get home.”
When they parked the car in front of their apartment, Shingun asked, "So how much do you know?"
"Well, enough facts…" With that, Jake reached to the back seat and handed Shingun a big envelope, and it only took Shingun a split second to understand that he was holding the files of his parents in hand. "…but then again, what do I know about grief, so maybe nothing after all."
With this, Shingun grabbed Jake's jacket and pulled him close, kissing him fiercely, and Jake just hummed content, taking Shingun‘s head in his hand and grabbing his hair.
Shingun pulled back, opening the door of the car, and with a sly smile, he said, "Good thing I restocked the lube today.”