[for a while, nam soon doesn't even bother to respond. even if he had a good response, he physically doesn't have it in him to elicit anything of coherence right now. he draws in a deep breath in an attempt to mitigate the sobs he's keeping as quiet as possible—though the way his shoulders move makes it obvious what's happening. there's comfort in the way heung soo rubs his back, though it nam soon's automatic response is to clutch tighter at the fabric of his friend's shirt. for all the tears they've both shed over so many things over the years, this is only the third time he could ever remember breaking down to this extent.
the first had been after his mother's funeral, when heung soo coxed the tears from him. they stood much like this, though they were much younger and somehow even more helpless. but nam soon remembers it being much the same; after holding in everything from the moment he'd been told of her death, through the entirety of the funeral—no matter how many times he bowed, no matter how many flowers were put on her casket, no matter how many hours he spent in that stifling room even as his dad relented to the bottles of soju being served, no matter how many whispers he heard about how he wasn't a filial child because of it, he didn't cry once. he finally gave in when he and heung soo were alone. he can hardly remember how it happened, but nam soon hasn't forgotten the way he sobbed into heung soo, tearing the arm band from his suit and grasping at it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
the second time had been after running away from the hospital, away from heung soo. he was alone, in the corner of that dark room, and he cried until the well had run dry. he dehydrated himself from crying, as if that would be some kind of punishment to ease the pain and guilt he felt. it didn't work, and still, even now, there are times when those memories break him down.
but like this, here and now—even nam soon couldn't have predicted that heung soo's importance to him went this far. that even the notion of being left behind and completely alone could tear him down, and the relief of this bastard's tangibility could completely crack him. it probably should surprise him, when he's always been willing to throw away his entire world for heung soo, but to experience it in this way is something he isn't sure how to reconcile. they've already been through a lot since being taken from seoul, and they've been forced to confront feelings they may never have as a result. it's a blessing and a curse, because it opens up a type of vulnerability he wasn't even aware of. but even if it's surprising, it doesn't actually stop him from basking in the comfort. he knows. nam soon knows that heung soo won't try to stop him. he won't say to stop crying, or to grow up. even if the teasing comes later, when his composure has returned, he knows that right now, heung soo will stay just like this for as long as it takes.]
I know. [he does. the fact that through all of that, heung soo went out of his way to make sure his presence was known, and the fact that as soon as he had his body back, they were like this... that's enough for him. that's enough for nam soon to know that. besides, heung soo isn't one to say things he doesn't mean.]
...Thanks. [he manages to say, and he knows that's all he needs to. he's sure, absolutely sure, that heung soo will understand every last implication of that single word, especially as he still holds on tightly without any indication of letting go anytime soon. not unless this place tries to split them apart again, at least.]
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the first had been after his mother's funeral, when heung soo coxed the tears from him. they stood much like this, though they were much younger and somehow even more helpless. but nam soon remembers it being much the same; after holding in everything from the moment he'd been told of her death, through the entirety of the funeral—no matter how many times he bowed, no matter how many flowers were put on her casket, no matter how many hours he spent in that stifling room even as his dad relented to the bottles of soju being served, no matter how many whispers he heard about how he wasn't a filial child because of it, he didn't cry once. he finally gave in when he and heung soo were alone. he can hardly remember how it happened, but nam soon hasn't forgotten the way he sobbed into heung soo, tearing the arm band from his suit and grasping at it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
the second time had been after running away from the hospital, away from heung soo. he was alone, in the corner of that dark room, and he cried until the well had run dry. he dehydrated himself from crying, as if that would be some kind of punishment to ease the pain and guilt he felt. it didn't work, and still, even now, there are times when those memories break him down.
but like this, here and now—even nam soon couldn't have predicted that heung soo's importance to him went this far. that even the notion of being left behind and completely alone could tear him down, and the relief of this bastard's tangibility could completely crack him. it probably should surprise him, when he's always been willing to throw away his entire world for heung soo, but to experience it in this way is something he isn't sure how to reconcile. they've already been through a lot since being taken from seoul, and they've been forced to confront feelings they may never have as a result. it's a blessing and a curse, because it opens up a type of vulnerability he wasn't even aware of. but even if it's surprising, it doesn't actually stop him from basking in the comfort. he knows. nam soon knows that heung soo won't try to stop him. he won't say to stop crying, or to grow up. even if the teasing comes later, when his composure has returned, he knows that right now, heung soo will stay just like this for as long as it takes.]
I know. [he does. the fact that through all of that, heung soo went out of his way to make sure his presence was known, and the fact that as soon as he had his body back, they were like this... that's enough for him. that's enough for nam soon to know that. besides, heung soo isn't one to say things he doesn't mean.]
...Thanks. [he manages to say, and he knows that's all he needs to. he's sure, absolutely sure, that heung soo will understand every last implication of that single word, especially as he still holds on tightly without any indication of letting go anytime soon. not unless this place tries to split them apart again, at least.]