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It was odd for Han Yoojin to be alone.
For this, current Han Yoojin, that is. This Han Yoojin is never seen leaving his apartment without his dongsaeng in tow, who he now shared his home with; there is not one candid picture of him where there isn't a kiseungsu hanging off of him; there's no occasion where he walks alone — he is always accompanied by either a close friend or a well known Hunter.
Han Yoojin of the past, the being that was consciously ripped out of a different timeline, was nothing of the sort.
That Han Yoojin — his dongsaeng left him, cast him out and refused to look his way; people cursed and spit on him, kicked him down and avoided him like plague. He fought, shouted, drank, and cried his wasted soul out to bartenders. He was a mess, a useless trash. A weak F rank, barely a Hunter, nothing but a thorn in his sibling's side that he needed to keep an eye on all the time.
Thus, far away from the eyes of others, Han Yoojin often stood on the roofs of building at night with a cigarette in his mouth. He stood there under the stars to hide away, to blow of some steam, to regroup, and to make himself try for the next day.
Try, for his own sake, as he should- as he has to, to grow into someone his dongsaeng can at least look at no matter much of a sore sight he was.
He fought tooth and nail to gain his dongsaeng's love, lashed out when he was kicked away and coped with the cheapest things he could find. A roof, booze and cigarettes.
Han Yoojin never really forgot the taste of tobacco on his tongue or the lingering headache of a bad hangover after all of these year. Not even in another lifetime, where he should only just be starting out on his bad habits, fast to turn them into addictions.
Those times are behind him now, nothing more than a sour taste in his mouth, a burning weight in his pockets, and a stool in a bar.
The shadows of his past cannot hold a candle to his current self, that being is not him, not anymore.
But the memories that don't quite exist anymore still sneak up on him at night, a sour phantom taste turning to bile, rising in his throat.
The Han Yoojin of today is useful, has his dongsaeng by his side, has a close circle of people he can place his trust in. And he even has a partner, someone who he can lean onto no matter how annoying the man might be at times.
He isn't alone anymore. He has all the evidence to prove it. Though, the feeling of loneliness — as shameful as it is to even admit to it — lingers and gets all soaked up in his bones so deep that he is no longer able to shake it.
He has it all, yet his past has nothing at all. Doesn't even exist, only for him, thus, he doesn't really have anything to complain about.
There are no skeletons in the closet. There is no closet to begin with.
Han Yoojin is quite the paradox. That much he can confess to even in the swirling haze of his mind. But that haze just swirls and swirls like a vortex of lost thoughts, until it drains to somewhere deep, to somewhere the back of his mind where he can choose to ignore it, yet still keep an eye on it all the same.
Now, he stands alone, under the vast sky on a cold roof once again, as if bewitched by his past to follow his roots that he once spread out in a world far form this. He is damned to always end up this way or another. To dig up those withered roots, to roll a cigarette, and commemorate the man he once was, to feel the tang of alcohol on his tongue, and to mull over the lost time he cannot get back.
He shakes his head to shake the laugh that almost tumbles out of his lips. He is being ridiculous, and he barely drunk anything just yet. Yoohyun-ie and Yerim-ie forbade him, he cannot drink any more than a glass of classy foreign champagne that taste like vinegar before the real celebration starts and they bring out the real deals; until they have to count down together and toast. Though it's not like Yerim-ie will get her hands on any alcohol, no way. However, this will be the first time he can enjoy a drink with his dongsaeng, celebrate together to their hearts' content knowing that the other is there, compared to when—. Well, yeah.
He should get back inside soon and let his worries be carried away by the harsh wind. He sworn to his dongsaeng to tell him of his worries, to clue him in on his thoughts even if they are upsetting, because above everything, all they have is each other. His dongsaeng trusts him to share those things with him and Han Yoojin would do a lot of thing to fulfill that wish of his, but not like this, not with this.
He can share a lot— hell, everything even, his skills, his life, his body, his mind, anything, but he will not share the lingering memories of the past with Yoohyun-ie, where he failed him of all people.
That will be a distance he will keep. He is willing to run away to rooftops, camp out on cold nights and let his clothes soak up the infuriating smell of smoke just so the real thing stays down, shoved behind his teeth, guarded by a quiet bird in the snow.
Other than that, he soaks up all the proximity that he is provided. That was something his past life rid him off, threw him as far away from his dongsaeng as he could manage, and made sure Yoohyun-ie knew to throw him even farther away for a so-called protection that only brought upon an unending misery.
It isn't like Yoohyoon-ie is great with that distance now either, but in a more backwards way. Hell, even Yerim-ah has her fair share of ways to keep Han Yoojin barely a step away. But they work around each other (or around the kiseungsus) to keep him company. They have had to come to some sort of agreement that they make it work so smoothly — as smooth as these two can get outside of the battlefield — as Yoohyun-ie was ushered away by Yerim-ah with surprisingly little amount of threats this evening too. With a slightly furrowed brows from his dear dongsaeng, unmistakably worried for his hyung, with a kind but sad smile from Yerim-ie that faltered with annoyance here and there as she pushed her Guild Leader around, but with also other stander-by reaction that Han Yoojin didn’t have in him to reflect upon. With those in tow, Han Yoojin found himself on the roof, rolling his cigarette like he was rolling his thought around in his mind, soaked up in the foggy past.
Only Peace refused to be any help as he was dead set on walking circles in between their legs in hope of tripping one of them to make Han Yoojin stay. He appreciated the thought, he kind of wanted to stay with them too.
It's now a new norm to let them rule over some part of his life. He doesn't really mind the vitamins and doing things they deem correct — it's for your own good, ahjussi, Yerim-ah says — but this 'alone time' is rather unusual. Uncalled for even as he was enjoying his time with them, so he is really unsure what brought this on.
Either way he takes it to his heart what his little doctors write up for him and breathes in as much fresh air as he can for their peace of mind. With each deep breaths, though, he tries not to think of the distance in between them feeling like an ever-growing hole as each minute passes, of how warm that chasm between them feels now, filled with love and care, but still no bridge to cross.
He shoves the image of that great hole out of his mind and bows his head with a long sigh. His deceptive sight drifted away from the bright starry sky and away from the loud city underneath. His temple presses against the railing as his hands curl around the iron rod besides his head, tapping away an unruly rhythm with his fingers for comfort.
At this point, Han Yoojin can’t remember when he arrived at the roof, but his billowing breath in the air signals him that enough time has passed already for the weather to drop from cold to borderline freezing. It was winter. A cold one at that.
He raises his head to rest chin against the railing. He doesn't look down. There is no point in doing that. He is past the point where he would think of committing if overcame with agony— there is no glory in giving up and giving in. Back then, he was mostly angry, though. Angry at the dungeons, angry at the Association, angry at himself, wishing that the deep depths at one too many stories high would just swallow his anger up alongside him before it reached his dongsaeng.
It never really worked, but the dark pit inside of him grew nonetheless. He found false relief in other things that would make his heart beat all off rhythm and take his stomach for a roller coaster ride.
He doesn't do those things either. He tries not to be a disappointment and a bad role model for the kids any more than he already has been.
Though, habits die hard, thus few things have to stay for him to claw at and reach out to until he is grounded. Just like the past and the loneliness of another time, a single pack of cigarette is stuck with Han Yoojin.
There is an odd feeling, a rotten craving, inside of him buried deep, not yet forgotten. It's the cold, but it's also the winter all together. It was time too, that had passed, or the time that does not exist anymore, and the one in front of him, waiting.
And if time, there is also the present…
Han Yoojin rolled the lonely, but unlit cigarette around his fingers. He didn’t know whether to flick it away or not, trample it under his boots or to light it for old times sake.
…Han Yoojin is unsure of the present, more so than of his past.
Maybe that's the reason why he let himself be guided away from the others around him, surrounding him gently, sure and content as they are, into the harsh weather of the night.
He is by himself, and the roofs continues to stay empty, unchanging.
Sound of crunching snow under heavy steps is what makes him stop his daydreaming.
He doesn’t miss how a presence that could have been easily concealed is announced to him as a gentle warning. How mindful.
He is no longer alone on the roof, but he wonders since when is that the case. If he has been watched or his guest was just kindly conscious of him and minded their own business? Until this very moment of course.
Some people can just never stay away.
Without turning around, Han Yoojin listens to the loud but slow steps that are coming his way, inching closer. The guest doesn’t stop to linger behind Han Yoojin to wait for their presence to be acknowledged further, rather they just step right beside him.
Only so many people can manage to do that so confidently while hiding the arrogance they posses.
Han Yoojin observes the presence from the corner of his eyes.
He knows this person all too well just from the air change around them, the little to no sound they make and the warmth that they radiate.
But also, it is hard to miss him when he demands to be seen. He'll get what he wants, one way or another. Or so that's what is told about him, too bad Han Yoojin always drives a hard bargain with him.
Hand covered in a white glove reaches out to him with a lighter and Han Yoojin all but chuckles at the consideration. Well, it's a worm on a hook really. But he indulges, after all, he did want some company. At least this one even the kids won't shoo away.
“Can’t say I expected that,” he starts, looking at the lighter in hand with a thumb on the flicker, ready to ignite the flames on Han Yoojin’s call. “Are you going to use this as blackmail material against me for Yoohyun-ie?”
“Wouldn’t dream of doing such thing, Han Yoojin-gun.”
Han Yoojin turns his head to look at his guest.
Sung Hyunjae stands there, barely a step away, dressed lightly just like Han Yoojin. Weren’t for the hot pink scarf hanging loosely around his neck, Han Yoojin would have thought it was a rather beautiful sight that he painted under the starry sky.
“Is that so?” he asks at last, taking in the sight of the man in front of him, but his gaze settles onto the lighter in his hands in the end. “Didn’t take you for a smoker, Sung Hyunjae-ssi.”
“The same cannot be said for you,” he says in lieu of an answer, “You always had the ambiance of a chain smoker. Quite the charm, if I must say so myself.”
“Too bad that I don’t smoke anymore then,” Han Yoojin rolls the cigarette around as he looks away from Sung Hyunjae. His words are either true or false. Though, he didn't quite reach a conclusion on the matter yet himself.
“Is that a New Year’s resolution?”
Han Yoojin laughs at that, shadows of the past not yet cleared from his mind even with a new and quite stubborn distraction present.
“No, not quite,” he settles on that as it isn’t far from the truth. But under Sung Hyunjae’s scrutinizing gaze not a lot of half-truths stay unrevealed.
The smoke of cigarette always took Han Yoojin back to the time he wished to leave behind. The sour smell of booze too if he must go that far back in time, those two came in pair, dragging him down further than he had already set himself to without his dongsaeng.
He hasn’t smoked since his regression, but the package always found him. It was never far away, in hand's reach, in a deep pocket — a reminder of the past and the mistakes, nonetheless.
The cigarette weighed heavy in his palm. A small object like this was like time itself which he will always be bound to. Like the uncertainty looming around the present, the cigarette stayed in its uncertain fate in Han Yoojin’s hand, that too, bound to him.
He doesn't mind letting Sung Hyunjae bear witness to his moping — because that's what really is. He got grounded by his kids to take a break and probably sober up and he got unnecessarily emotional about it. Though, Sung Hyunjae seen him do far worse with a cigarette than rolling it around aimlessly in his hands in Chinese custody. Chewing on dungeon made cigarette's tobacco has to be another kind of low… At least he got candies out of that, now he is only being observed as if he is another roll away from receiving another talk about the importance of his weak health.
Perhaps upset about being forgotten, Han Yoojin watches Sung Hyunjae’s hand reach out. He doesn’t know what the man wants, and it is useless to go around guessing him, thus Han Yoojin just lets him be as his gaze follows his.
His movements are slow for an S class, but considering that he is dealing with an F class Han Yoojin amuses over his speed.
The hand stops on Han Yoojin’s own, the one holding the cigarette. Sung Hyunjae’s hand is soon accompanied by the other, slowly and gently covering Han Yoojin’s sole one, slowly peeling away the cigarette from his fingers, leaving them empty and bare in the cold winter night.
That, however, does not seem all too ideal to Sung Hyunjae for long.
As if the thought of leaving Han Yoojin without anything to hold onto in this trade is rather irksome he hands him the lighter and places it in his hands the second he has the cigarette to himself.
Han Yoojin blinks at the item in his hold.
He raises his head to the one who gave it to him, brow arched and mouth agape to start his questioning, only to be silenced by the sight of Sung Hyunjae holding the cigarette in between his gloved fingers before placing it between his lips.
Han Yoojin watches as he goes, all movements of the man under heavy examination as if he is able to figure out his motive that way, even though he knows better, even though he knows that this man is anything but simple.
From following movements to reacting to them, Han Yoojin lets Sung Hyunjae lean down and into his space with a cigarette in mouth. He doesn’t look but feels the expecting gaze on him nonetheless as he plays with the lighter in hand.
Patiently, but perhaps bored by the hesitation, Sung Hyunjae’s hands cup Han Yoojin’s and maneuver them close to him, close to the slightly smiling lips.
Sung Hyunjae moves the fingers on the lighter gently, urging them on to ignite it, but never following the movements through and letting Han Yoojin continue to success. And successful it is as a lick of flame flickers to life in between their faces, almost serving as a border to separate the two.
They move together as Sung Hyunjae’s gaze lowers to the cigarette and the fire that is close yet so far away in Han Yoojin’s hold. Once met, the reaction is immediate. Small stream of smoke flies from the end of the cigarette and Sung Hyunjae removes himself from Han Yoojin’s space, taking his warmth with him.
Han Yoojin clasps the lighter in his hand tight, as if to demand back the warmth that he lost. He watches as the hands that were cradling his not so long ago are now reaching up to Sung Hyunjae’s — his — cigarette to take a long drag and take it from between his lips.
Sung Hyunjae looks into Han Yoojin’s eyes as he blows the smoke out, head slightly turning away trying not to blow the smoke right into his face. Watching as the wind blows away the smoke, Han Yoojin stays put, feeling the phantom weight of the cigarette in his hands.
The uncertain present, the fate… the things he didn’t know how to handle bundled in that damned smoke — all taken by Sung Hyunjae without a second thought. With every fallen ash and billowing smoke in the air, Han Yoojin watches Sung Hyunjae lighten his burdens with the slow drags of cigarette.
Han Yoojin barely registers the narrowed eyes focused on him behind the smoke. The gaze follows his movements, observing his fogged breaths in the air coming out stronger, ragged as the cigarette burns away under Sung Hyunjae’s care.
Not an inch of smoke nears close to Han Yoojin, but he feels his throat close up as if the smoke were to burn his lungs all the same. He ignores the feeling as his gaze slowly trails up, finding Sung Hyunjae’s unyielding stare on him.
The man is about to take another drag from the remaining parts of the cigarette, lips parted slightly, but once he finds Han Yoojin’s eyes on him his lips seals to smirk at him with dark eyes. Before he could ask what is so amusing for Sung Hyunjae, the man takes the last drag and leans down to Han Yoojin’s level . He holds the used stub of cigarette in front of his face in between them. The last of the burning ashes flickering red and orange as Sung Hyunjae moves the stub to the railing, pushing it down, killing the last of its embers.
Han Yoojin watches him with fogged eyes, shadows of his agonizing past blown away with the wind and flicked to the ground.
Occupied with the wild thoughts in his mind, Han Yoojin can only stare a hole into the cigarette — what has remained of it — as a hot pink scarf is placed around his neck. He lets Sung Hyunjae straighten him, smooth down the scarf on him and take his hands with a smile.
“My partner will catch a cold if he stays out here. I can’t have him walk into the new year sick. Though, I will take care of him if allows me to,” he says as he leads him away.
Just right before the door he leans in close to his ears and adds, "And I will not even ask for new year's kiss as payment."
Laughter bubbles out of him suddenly as they step over threshold hand in hand.
"The night is still young," he hears himself say. He pats him on the arms to let go once his kids are in his line of sight. "We will see about that new year's kiss, dear partner-ssi. A resolution, if you will."
"I'm looking forward to it."
With his new found confidence he looks over his shoulder to wink as he walks on without him. Yoohyun-ie is fast to interlock their arms and drag him away from Sung Hyunjae while Yerim-ie says her greetings to the man with a friendly wave.
"What was that about?" Yoohyun-ie asks while Han Yoojin interlocks his other arm with Yerim-ie.
He feels his lips tug into a smile before schooling his expression into something less amused, but still entertained, "A new year's resolution."
"With the Seseong ahjussi?" Yerim-ah gasps as if she just heard something scandalous. "Will you keep it?"
He shrugs, "Who knows. Only time will tell."