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The TV is loud in the living room. A second male lead is dying. And the female lead cradles his body, crying. The guy touches her face, wiping off her tears, and he manages to speak.
‘It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll be happy.’
He continues. ‘I’ll have your name on me forever. That’s enough for me.’
And his hand falls, and she cries harder.
Seongje groans out loud. “How the fuck are people still eating this shit-ass plot? It’s the same fucking plot done a thousand times, just with different actors.”
Suho mutters, “It’s romantic.”
Seongje stands up. “In the next episode, she’s 100% gonna have the previous guy’s name back. That’s how this bullshit marks work. They shift like the weather. My aunt woke up one morning, and her husband had another woman’s name on his wrist. Years gone, over a night, just like that.” Seongje throws his hands. “Her own mark stayed for a year after their divorce. Then it just faded.”
He looks at the screen again. “Guess what, the other guy’s gonna take her back as if the last 14 episodes didn’t happen.”
Suho looks at him. “Wouldn’t you? He still has her name.”
Seongje chokes, “No fucking way.”
While Seongje is ranting, Suho doesn’t look away from the TV.
“Who in their right mind would want to take back a person who fell out of love with you? It’s just pathetic.” Seongje continues.
Suho doesn’t say, I would.
Instead, he says, “You’re saying that because you go through girls and dudes like you’re shopping for groceries. Almost halfway through the whole school and still don’t have a mark.”
“You talk as if you have one.” Seongje taunts. Then he says, “I’m just too good for one wrist.”
Suho scoffs, "Doesn't mean any of them were the one, does it?" He adds, “I'm just saying people watch it because they can relate to it. People die with their marks. The living ones lose them.”
“Ugh. How the fuck am I still friends with you? We’re like fire and water. I want air so that they can fire me up. Or a tree, so that we can burn together.” Seongje speaks with big hand gestures. “Instead, I’m stuck with you. Every time I ignite my fire, you splash water on me.”
Suho doesn’t look at him. He says, “You always get us into trouble. You’re basically a child who needs constant supervision.”
“Okay, guilty. But you need to admit that we have fun because of me.”
Suho shakes his head. “I guess.” Then he looks at Seongje. “But yesterday’s fight was not necessary. At all.”
Seongje turns around, eyes rolling. “You said that already.”
“I’m serious. Why the fuck would you headbutt that guy out of nowhere?”
“That fucker was staring at me funny.”
“His friend was a fucking bull. I know you can fuck up some guys, but not that guy. You don’t mess with that. You run from it.”
Seongje raises his arms. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry.”
Suho knows Seongje doesn’t mean it, but he doesn’t press anyway. They continue watching for some time before Seongje stretches around. “Let’s get out. I’m bored.”
“You go. I’m on delivery tonight.” Suho says.
“I can lend you money if you need it.”
“I don’t want your parents’ money. They willed it to you so that you can live your life. I can feed myself.”
“Fine. But I’ll be around the arcade, if you wanna come after.”
“Okay.”
Suho ends up in another fight that night because Seongje trash-talked the opposite team. He doesn't enjoy it. He never does. They get out of it fairly unscathed. Just two people doing what they’ve done countless times since childhood.
Ahn Suho has Keum Seongje’s back.
***
The bell rings.
Suho wakes up, his body is stiff and aching in the places where he had lain. He stretches his neck, looking around, and sees students getting up, leaving for lunch break.
Then a figure a few rows in front of him catches his eye.
Yeon Sieun.
Who is so focused on what he’s reading that he hasn’t looked up. His fingers around the pen as if it weighed nothing. Strands of his hair getting blown just slightly by the wind coming from the open window.
The quiet one who got transferred in this year. Who comes earlier than anybody, who scores the highest on every single test, who doesn’t tolerate bullshit. Suho remembers the time when the class bully tried to mess with him and ended up with a broken nose.
He’s got a fire.
Since then, Suho couldn't help but notice him now and then. His hands when he writes. The way he leaves the classroom before everyone else when the final bell rings. But Suho never approached Sieun.
Suho watches him for a second longer than he should. Then Seongje strolls in.
“Hurry up. I heard the cafeteria’s got galbi-jjim today.” He says.
Suho asks, “How do you know this stuff?”
“People hit you with the most random info when they want to talk to you. I’m famous.”
“Whatever.” Suho stands up.
The rest of the students go for lunch as well. When Suho walks through the door, he takes a glance back. Sieun is still at his desk.
Yeon Sieun never ate at the cafeteria. Suho had noticed.
He walks away.
***
Seongje sighs quietly. For the hundredth time. He's in the library, he can't be loud about it. The principal had given him a detention to sort the new book arrivals onto the shelves. Tiny misunderstanding, apparently. Seongje had been lying on one of the tables since forever. His phone battery died twenty minutes ago, and now he is actually starting to consider doing the sorting to survive the boredom. He looks around, hoping for anything or anyone to spark an interest.
There are only a few students in the library. Then someone catches his eye.
Four tables away. Alone, AirPods in, with a huge book open in front of them.
Who reads at a library anymore? Everything is online.
Then he continues to watch.
Their pen moves. Hair falls into their face. Their chest, steady rhythm. And a feeling he rarely experiences washes over Seongje.
Calm.
Not even a minute later, he moves to the table next to him with a random book he’s supposed to organize. The other doesn’t seem to notice him at all. Seongje can see his face more clearly now.
Seongje notices that he has Post-it notes in his pencil case. Seongje knocks twice on the other’s desk quietly, and the other finally looks at him.
His eyes.
Oh.
Seongje points to the Post-it notes and mouths silently. Can I get one?
The other rips one and gives it to Seongje without words before turning back to his work. Seongje scribbles something on and sticks it on the book that the other is reading.
What’s your name?
The note reads.
The other sits still for a long moment before writing on the note and handing it back.
Yeon Sieun.
Seongje smiles to himself and writes on it again.
Looks like I found the name I’m gonna have on my wrist forever. And you’re gonna have mine.
Sieun’s eyes widen for a moment. Then he marks the page he was on and closes the book. He turns to Seongje, lips parted just slightly.
Seongje smirks and says, “I’m Keum Seongje. Nice to meet you, Sieun.”
Anyone would’ve thought he was a nutjob for saying that, but three months later, for the first time in his nineteen years of life, Seongje would wake up with a name on his wrist.
Yeon Sieun.
He didn't see it until he was brushing his teeth. He stopped. He looked at his wrist in the mirror. Then he laughed.
And he felt like the luckiest guy in the whole universe.
Five months later
Suho walks into the coffee shop. Seongje is by the window, hunched over his phone, surrounded by origami paper. He's watching the video on the screen like it's the most important thing he's ever seen.
“What are you doing?” Suho asks, sitting on the opposite side.
“Making paper cranes,” Seongje doesn’t even look up from the screen.
Suho squints, “Why?”
“For Sieun,” he says.
“Is it his birthday soon?”
“No.”
“It hasn’t been a year yet, has it? Monthversary?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Just because.” Seongje finally looks at Suho. “Sieun told me a story about a girl folding a thousand paper cranes to make their wish come true.”
Suho rolls his eyes. “If I knew you were gonna turn into this,” he gestures at the table, “I would've found him and handed him to you years ago.”
Seongje scoffs, “You were the one who said, ‘Don’t mess with him’ when I first told you about my crush on him.”
“He’s in my class.” Suho shrugs.
Seongje squints his eyes. “That’s it?”
“I thought you were gonna dump him a week later. Didn’t want to sit next to your ex every day.” Suho says.
Seongje pushes him lightly. “You almost cockblocked me, you shithead.”
“The mark is stupid, I’m too good for anyone. Your words. Sieun comes into the picture, and now you’re folding origami while staring at your wrist.” Suho whistles.
“It's not about the mark. It's him. Mark's just decoration.” Seongje says.
Suho rolls his eyes. But then he turns to Seongje and asks, “Do you want me to help? You’re gonna take days to make a thousand at this speed.”
Seongje pauses on a fold. Suho catches him staring at his wrist. Then Seongje shakes his head. “Nope. This one’s mine.”
Suho watches his friend fold paper for a long time. Seongje, who used to spit on the idea of marks, now folds cranes with his hands like it's a prayer.
He looks at his own wrist. Bare.
He's happy for them. He is.
He just hopes his own name shows up on someone soon.
Two years later
It’s been two years since they graduated from high school. But the friendship never changed. If anything, Sieun is part of the group now.
Seongje and Sieun are still each other's. Still wear their marks like nothing else has ever mattered. Every time the three of them meet up, the conversation circles back to how Suho will find his soulmate any time now. Suho just smiles and says, Don't worry about me. Just enjoy yourselves.
Today is one of those days. Suho is over for dinner. Sieun has gone to bed.
Suho and Seongje are left alone, talking about anything and everything. Then Seongje’s phone rings, and his face darkens visibly. Suho knows who it is. Seongje excuses himself to take the call and goes into another room.
Seongje glances toward the hallway when he comes back from the call. He runs his hand over Sieun's shirt, which is draped over the back of the couch. Then he sits down.
Suho gulps his beer and says, “You should’ve gotten out when I did.”
Seongje is silent. He drinks as well.
“It was a bad idea from the very beginning, Seongje. From those three days I spent there, I knew the Union wasn’t something you could walk in and out of. You really should’ve gotten out with me. It’s been what? A year now?” Suho says, his voice is steadier than he is.
“Yeah. Sieun hates it. He doesn't say it anymore, but I know he does.” Seongje takes out a cigarette, holds it, but doesn’t light it. “I was stupid. Thought it would be fun. And it was, for a while. Still is, sometimes.” He sighs.
“I’ve been trying to get out for some time now. For him. For myself, but mainly for him.” Seongje takes a breath. “It’s not that easy.”
Suho says, “I should’ve just busted your ass and dragged you out back then.”
“Don’t.” Seongje says, “You decided to leave. I decided to stay. My burden to bear.”
“But still,” Suho sighs.
“Don’t worry. I’m almost done. I just need to close one deal next week.” Seongje's voice drops, just slightly.
“I’m coming with you,” Suho says.
Seongje shakes his head. “You’re not. You’ve been dealing with my mess for as long as I can remember, Suho. I’m gonna deal with this by myself.”
Suho knows there’s no point in insisting otherwise. When Seongje says no, it means no. He runs his hand over his hair. “Just be careful. Make sure you’re prepared.”
He adds, “Sieun needs you.”
Then, lower, “And I need you.”
Seongje smiles, pats Suho on his back, “Save that line for your future soulmate, dude. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Sieun is still asleep when Seongje comes into the bedroom. Seongje doesn't wake him.
Suho stays on the couch after Seongje leaves. He doesn't sleep.
A month later
“We’re doing everything we can. I told you countless times that if there’s any update, we’d call you immediately.” The officer says exhaustively.
“I understand. Thank you, officer.” Suho bows.
Then the older officer says, “If he was connected to the Union, he might already be gone, son.”
Suho doesn't respond. He leaves the station.
Outside, Sieun waits on a bench. Last month has been a nightmare for both of them. Seongje has been missing for a month, since that day he went for that last business deal. No matter how much Suho hates himself for not going with him, no matter how much he wishes to turn back time and prevent the future, the present doesn't change.
He walks closer. Sieun is sitting with his hands flat on his thighs. He looks up when Suho approaches.
“No updates,” Suho says.
Sieun doesn't reply. He releases a quiet breath, stands up, and walks away. Suho watches him for a moment. Then he walks after him.
“I’ll walk you home, Sieun,” Suho says.
Sieun nods.
And the walk passes quietly.
***
A week passes.
There’s a knock on the door.
Could it be?
Sieun runs to the door and opens it. He looks past Suho first. There's no one else.
His shoulders drop slightly.
“Hi, Suho.” He moves away to let Suho in. But the other doesn’t move. Sieun looks at Suho properly again. “Suho?”
Suho doesn’t look at him. He’s staring at his feet, his breath uneven.
Sieun steps closer. “Suho, what is it?”
Suho finally looks at him. He opens his mouth. It takes him a long second.
"They found the body."
Sieun's legs give. He hits the floor. He doesn't make a sound.
Seongje, who promised to watch that movie with him, the day before he disappeared. The unused tickets still in his drawer.
His Seongje.
Suho kneels and pulls Sieun into him. Sieun makes a sound Suho has never heard before. Suho doesn't make any sound at all.
Sieun's face is against Suho's shoulder. Suho doesn't move. Eventually, Sieun does.
***
Two weeks later, the funeral is held.
The body had been in the river too long to identify. They cremated it.
Suho takes care of everything. Sieun sits beside Seongje's photograph the whole day. Fingers on his wrist. On the name that is still there.
After it's done, after everyone is gone, Suho sits on the floor next to Sieun and takes his hand. Sieun's head falls on his shoulder. Suho leans into him.
They don’t say a single thing to each other. Suho doesn't move when Sieun starts to cry again, quietly, into his shirt.
A month later
“Suho.” Sieun’s voice is calm.
Suho turns to him. “Hm?”
“You don't have to come every day. I'll be okay.” Sieun says softly.
Suho shakes his head. “I want to be here.”
“There’s just… no one else who I could talk to about him. And I feel bad for taking up your time like that.” Sieun says.
“Don’t be. I enjoy talking about him too. Did I tell you about the time he beat the arcade owner at his own game and played for free for a month?"
Sieun shakes his head.
"You'll love this one." Suho leans back. He's smiling already. "So the first time we ever walked in there..."
Sieun listens. Halfway through, his mouth moves, not quite a smile, but close. Suho sees it. He keeps going.
***
Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months. They talk. They sit in silence. They become people to each other in a way they had never been before. Suho tells himself this is what Seongje would’ve wanted, to keep Sieun company, to keep him safe. He refuses to think otherwise.
Two months later, Suho wakes up one morning. He stretches. Out of the corner of his eye, something on his arm. He squints at it, and the sleep is gone.
On his wrist, where there was nothing, now sits a name. Cursive, gentle even.
Yeon Sieun.
He stops breathing.
On the other side of town, Sieun is still asleep. He doesn't know the name he carried for years has been replaced.
Just like that. Over a night of sleep.
Quietly. Inevitably.
***
Suho doesn't go to Sieun's apartment after that. He doesn't answer Sieun's calls. He blocks his number, then unblocks it, then blocks it again.
He pulls his sleeves down past his wrists when he leaves the apartment. He pulls them back up when he gets home.
He'd wanted a name on his wrist for years. He hadn't pictured this one.
Suho has been by Seongje's side since he can remember. Everything he did, he did with him or for him. Now there's Sieun on his wrist. And Suho doesn't want it to go. The mark doesn't fade. If anything, it sharpens.
By the end of the week, Suho is sitting outside Sieun's apartment.
He unblocks the number.
Can we talk? I’m out front.
Ten minutes later, Suho hears footsteps. Sieun is walking toward him. When he gets close, Suho forgets every version of the speech he's been rehearsing all week. Instead, he just says, “Hi.”
Sieun looks at him. “Hi.”
“I-uh… Sorry for ghosting you.”
Sieun looks away, not replying.
“Sieun-ah.” Sieun looks at him. “I have to say something.”
“Okay,” Sieun says. He doesn't move.
“I think I fell in love with you.” He releases a breath before continuing. “You’re Seongje’s Sieun. And I’m me. And I-”
Suho stops talking. He looks at the ground. He closes his eyes. He takes his hands out of his pockets and turns them inwards.
“I woke up with this, a week ago. I tried to make it disappear. But I know I don't want it to.”
Suho is crying.
Silence stretches.
Then, Sieun moves. Slowly, deliberately. He pulls back his sleeve and shows his wrist as well. Suho’s breath hitches.
No scar. No remains. Just his name.
On Sieun.
As if it had always been there. As if there had never been anything else.
"I still love him." Sieun's voice is barely there. "I miss him every day."
A long pause.
"But... I love you, too."
This time, Sieun’s tears fall.
“I don’t want to lose someone again, Suho.”
Suho pulls Sieun into him. Sieun holds him back. The lights are on in some of the windows above them.
For a long moment, the only sound is the two of them breathing.
***
A month later, Sieun steps out of a tattoo parlor. A paper crane, right over his heart. Suho would notice it three days later. He would smile and say, It looks great.
Another month later, Sieun puts Seongje's things into a box. The post-it note. The movie ticket. The paper cranes. Their pictures.
Sieun stops at one picture. Sieun and Seongje, in the picture, are not long past the first marks. They're sitting together. Their faces are hidden behind their hands, but their wrists are out. Suho took the picture. None of them knew what would happen years later.
Sieun sighs. He runs his finger over Seongje's face. He looks at the picture for a moment longer. Then he puts it in the box. He moves it into the closet and closes the door. Suho knows that the box exists. But he doesn’t ask about it.
In the third month, Suho moves in. Sieun didn't want to leave the apartment. Suho didn't want him to be there alone. He said, I can move in, before Sieun had to ask.
They make breakfast. They go to work. They come home.
And the closet stays closed.
***
“Could you grab some eggs on your way?” Sieun says. Phone between his ear and his shoulder. Hands in the rice.
“Four would do. Brown or white. Okay, bye.” He ends the call and returns to the rice.
Fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.
Again?
Sieun goes to the door. He's already half-smiling at Suho's I forgot my key.
He opens the door. He doesn't move. He doesn't breathe.
It’s him.
Seongje.
His voice is the same. "Sieun-ah."
Ten months ago
Everything feels off.
The man across the table. The way he's looking at him. Everyone else in the room knowing something. Still, he keeps his composure and goes through the details of the contract.
The man cuts him off with a sigh. “It’s such a shame.”
Seongje stops immediately.
Cigarette smoke drifts between them.
"I heard you were a good fighter. One of the best." The man says it like he's complimenting a colleague. "Why are you trying to leave?"
That’s when Seongje knows what it is. He doesn’t answer. “What did they say?”
“To give you the options. One, you stay.” The man leans forward. “Two, you die.”
“If I refuse both?”
The man chuckles. “You won’t.”
And the rest of the night is something Seongje will never describe.
He doesn't know how long they beat him. He doesn't remember being tied. He remembers the water.
Somehow, he gains consciousness. Somehow, he gets out. He's miles downstream. He doesn't know how.
He crawls to the shore. He’s retching up water and blood. He’s cold.
And the only thing keeping him awake is Sieun.
I have to go back.
I can’t die.
I can’t.
The darkness swallows him.
***
A month later, he wakes up in a room he doesn’t recognize.
He sits up and sees the bandages around his torso and his left leg. He tries to lift his leg but recoils immediately in pain.
It’s broken.
Then the door opens. An old man. When he sees Seongje, he smiles.
“Hello?” Seongje says.
The man nods without words.
Seongje asks, “Where am I?”
The man points to his ears. He shakes his head.
Oh.
Seongje points to the bandage and then to the man. “Did you?”
He nods.
Seongje bows. “Thank you.”
The old man smiles again.
***
It takes him a month to stand on his own. Two more to walk with the wooden stick the old man made him.
He's in a small village near the lower part of the Han River. He must have floated for hours to end up here. Mountains and hills in every direction except the river. Mostly elderly villagers, fishing for a living. The main road is seven days on foot.
Seongje accepts that he's not leaving anytime soon. His leg is still bad. No medicine. No way to walk seven days on it. He spends the days helping the old man. Week by week, he gets a bit better.
Yeon Sieun.
He brushes his fingers over the mark. The mark is still there. So is he.
He remembers Sieun. The arms around him. The name in Sieun's voice. Fingers in his hair. Sieun must be worried sick. Seongje wants to be there.
He releases a breath.
Please, hold on just a bit longer.
I’ll come home to you.
He says it to himself every morning. He says it every night.
***
A month later, the village chief's son visits. Seongje thanks the universe. Three days later, he's in a town. Far from Seoul. But closer than he's been in seven months.
Seven months.
For more than half a year, Seongje has been gone.
When he reaches the town, the first thing he does is find a place to buy a phone. The chief's son gave him some money. He has just enough. He needs to call Sieun.
“I’d like to buy a phone.”
“What model are you looking for?” the woman asks.
"Any. Anything I can buy with this?" Seongje says, putting the cash on the counter.
The woman looks at him. She doesn't say anything. She shows him two models.
“I’ll take this,” Seongje says.
She nods. “Okay.” She turns to the computer. “Your ID, please.”
Seongje stiffens. “... I lost it.”
She pauses. “You know your ID number then?”
“Yes, of course,” Seongje says. “It’s 050413-3970122.”
She presses enter and then freezes. She tenses up. “Uhm, what is your name?”
“Keum Seongje.”
Her eyes widen. She turns to him. “It says that… you’re deceased.”
Seongje doesn’t move.
Silence stretches in the hall.
He asks, “When?”
The woman barely says it. “Five months ago.”
Seongje doesn’t even know how he leaves the place. He sits down on the pavement.
Five months he has been dead.
For five months, Sieun has thought he was dead. There must have been a funeral. He can’t imagine how much Sieun must have been hurting alone. And Suho.
Seongje hopes Suho was with Sieun during the whole thing. That Suho made sure to keep Sieun safe.
If he is dead, then the Union thinks him dead as well. He can't just get on a bus to Seoul. He needs to get there without the Union spotting him. He needs to get Sieun. He needs to leave the damn city.
He stands up. His leg still hurts.
***
It takes him three whole months.
Every day, he moves a bit closer to home. He sleeps in motels. He cuts his own hair when it gets too long.
He follows a rumor to an ID forger in a back alley. He can't afford the ID. So he works there for two months, moving boxes, delivering things, not asking questions.
His name, no longer Keum Seongje. Lee Junyoung now.
He takes a bus to Seoul. He keeps his head down.
And now he stands outside their apartment. His legs feel heavy. His heart is loud.
Ten months.
He breathes out. He knocks.
Three seconds later. The door opens.
And there he is.
Still as beautiful as the day he last kissed him. Still him.
Still his Sieun.
The only word he has is "Sieun-ah."
Sieun takes a few steps back. And Seongje comes in.
The door closes behind them.
Sieun’s hand shakes when he raises it to Seongje’s face. His fingers find Seongje's cheek. Seongje feels Sieun breathe out.
His voice trembles. “You’re real.”
"I am." Seongje is crying too.
His hand covers Sieun's hand on his face. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
Sieun mutters under his breath. “How?”
Seongje smiles. "I'll tell you everything." He kisses the palm against his cheek. Then he wipes Sieun's tears away. "Don't cry, please."
He embraces Sieun, and Sieun hugs him back. Seongje closes his eyes.
He's home.
After a long moment, he releases Sieun and guides him to the sofa.
Seongje finally looks at him properly.
His Sieun.
His hair, a bit longer. His body, a bit leaner. And his eyes. Something in them Seongje doesn't recognize.
“Sieun-ah.” Seongje holds his face. He's looking for something. He doesn't know what.
He whispers, “Are you okay?”
Sieun’s voice is barely audible. “You died.”
Seongje whispers, “I know. I’m sorry. I’m here now.” Then, lower, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
Sieun shakes his head.
Something in Seongje's chest shifts.
He stills for a moment.
He reaches for Sieun's right hand. Seongje's fingers tremble. Sieun doesn’t move. He doesn't pull away. He doesn't help either.
Then the door lock chimes. It opens.
“Got the brown ones.”
Suho’s voice.
He turns around, and the eggs get dropped.
Suho mutters. “Seongje.”
On the sofa, Seongje looks at him. His face. His arms. His right wrist.
A mark.
Then he turns his head, his fingers still wrapped around Sieun’s hand. He turns it over. Slowly, gently.
He's been carrying his name on Sieun's wrist in his head for ten months. He’s been seeing it in his dreams. Imagining Sieun’s voice calling out his name.
Hoping.
Ahn Suho.
His hand falls.
Seongje stands up.
Suho steps closer. “Seongje.”
Seongje steps back. “Don’t.”
Then he looks around. The TV he used to watch is bigger. The fridge had their pictures on it. Now it has different ones.
He looks back at Sieun, still on the sofa, still crying.
And the person Seongje loves is now someone else’s.
Suho’s.
He closes his eyes.
Silence stretches in the air.
Seongje turns to the door. Suho catches him by the arm as he passes. And Seongje takes a proper look at Suho’s wrist.
Yeon Sieun.
He mutters, “Let go.”
Suho does.
Seongje closes the door behind himself. The same door he'd spent ten months trying to open.
He walks.
***
Three nights later, Seongje drinks alone, sitting in the corner of a small outdoor bar he used to frequent. He came here to forget everything.
The last three days. The last ten months. The last four years.
It doesn’t work.
He takes another gulp.
A chair scrapes next to him. Someone sits down. Seongje doesn’t look.
“Where are you staying?” Suho asks.
Suho looks like he hasn't slept. Seongje doesn’t answer.
“You should stay at the apartment,” Suho says.
The apartment.
The one that used to be his home.
Seongje scoffs. “I don’t belong there anymore. Do I?”
Suho sighs. “Seongje.”
Silence falls between them.
Then Suho says, “What happened? How are you here?”
Seongje takes a gulp. "I don't think me coming back from the dead is the problem here, Suho." He finally turns around to see him. "You having my soulmate's name on you is."
Suho looks him in the face. “You were dead. I had to apply for your death certificate. I had to watch Sieun mourning you. I had to mourn you.”
Seongje seethes. “Should I be grateful that you two waited until I was dead?”
Suho grabs Seongje’s collar. “How could you say that? You know we’d never do that to you. There was nothing between us.”
Seongje’s eyes turn blank. “Well, now there’s something.” He adds, “You two having each other’s names while I still have his. What am I supposed to think?”
Suho doesn’t have an answer.
After a while, Seongje stands up. “I’m leaving this fucking city. You two can continue pretending that I’m dead and live happily ever after. Cool?”
He turns to leave, and Suho looks at him. “See Sieun before you go.” He adds, “Please.”
A moment passes.
Seongje mutters. “Fine.”
He doesn't look at Suho when he walks out.
***
Two days later, Sieun sits in a cafe, waiting.
The door opens, and Seongje comes in. He sits without words.
Sieun looks at him, and something tightens in his chest.
“Always wondered whose wrist I’d see Suho’s name on.” He looks at Sieun. “Never thought it would be yours.”
Sieun is silent for a long moment.
“You were dead. I grieved for you. And I… moved on.”
“I was dead. You grieved. You moved on.” Seongje nods. “Okay.”
“And now, I have to move on. But you’re not dead. What do I grieve for? The past?” Seongje says.
Sieun looks at him. “I loved you, Seongje. I still do. But I can’t change the past. Or the present. I can’t do that to Suho.”
Seongje watches Sieun for a long moment. Then he whispers, "I should've just died back then. I almost did, you know?"
“Do you know what I wished for with those paper cranes? To let you be happy. Maybe me dying was the universe granting my wish.”
Sieun doesn't respond. Every word feels wrong.
“I’m leaving, Sieun. And I won't come back this time.” He stands up. “Don’t worry.”
He stands next to Sieun. For a moment, he almost reaches for Sieun’s wrist, one last time.
He doesn’t.
“Goodbye, Sieun.”
And he’s gone.
***
It’s been almost a month since he moved.
Seongje walks into a tattoo parlor. A woman at the reception desk smiles brightly.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes. Lee Junyoung, three o’clock.”
“Right. Before you start, please fill this out for us.” She hands him a form. “Which area are you getting tattooed?”
“My wrist,” Seongje says.
She stiffens for a moment. Then she says, "Then you need to sign this form as well. Please, make sure to read it carefully."
I hereby acknowledge that I have read and understood the following:
Getting a tattoo in the wrist area critically damages the soulmate mark system in your body.
Any existing mark will disappear.
You will not be able to get a mark again.
Tattooing a wrist is an irreversible action.
Seongje doesn't want Sieun's name to fade. He'd rather have nothing than have anyone else's. He signs it.
Two hours later, he leaves the parlor.
A paper crane on his wrist where Yeon Sieun used to be.
Mark or no mark. He loves him still.
He walks away.