Chapter Text
Cirrus would come over every now and then. It was an idea he was reluctant to entertain before, but nonetheless, Skylar couldn’t refuse. The boy was living on his own now, and the hollowness of being estranged and isolated was engraved in Skylar’s heart, he wouldn’t let Cirrus suffer that alone.
And there was of course, also the matter of their relationship. It was unclear whether they were lovers, partners, or just two people experimenting, but nonetheless Skylar felt something for Cirrus. That feeling only deepened the more time they spent together, and he came to enjoy having the boy in his room.
It came to a point that Skylar had gotten pretty good at picking up small details about him. Every so often, whenever he came over, Cirrus would rub his nose or scratch his elbow, and his eyes would be tinted red by the time he left.
But it was yesterday, when Cirrus sneezed with teary eyes, did Skylar finally decide he should clean out the room again. Skylar was tidier than average but Cirrus had lived in a house cleaned by maids all his life, it wasn’t surprising the boy was so sensitive.
Skylar made two crucial mistakes.
The first, was when he decided to clean out the old boxes he kept on top of his closet.
It was full of old junk from Pohang, but there were a few things of note: Shoes from his childhood that were now two sizes too small for his feet, an old toothbrush holder whose faded smile beamed limply at him, and a large worn out shape of black. It was the newest of the three items, yet it looked the most beat up. Its straps were caked with dust and threads stuck out near the teeth of its rusty zipper. His middle school backpack.
Skylar made two crucial mistakes.
The second, was opening it.
Test papers yellowed by time, stuffed the bottom in a crumpled pile. But most notable was the lighter that laid atop it all. He fished it out, and stared emptily. It was a pale white under the room’s light, but it had once been a shade of blue. He tried sparking it, and sure enough, it still worked.
His eyes wavered at the sight of yellow light, lungs choked by the smell of methane. His old lighter… He once used this everyday. All day, smoke entered his esophagus, drying and polluting his insides. It buzzed with pleasure all the way to his bones, and as quickly as the smoke puffed in and out the buzz would disappear, leaving him wanting more. So he’d puff again, and the cycle would repeat. One cigarette turned to two, two to four, four to a whole pack. At one point he couldn’t live without it.
Quitting of course wasn’t easy. At first he used it to cope with the pain Minwoo had inflicted. But it only made things worse. The smell of tobacco, the glowing embers at the cigarette’s tip each time he breathed in, it all reeked of Minwoo.
He was at an impasse then. Not smoking led to a visceral hunger he could never satisfy. He craved the nicotine, craved the buzz that tainted the insides of his chest. He wished time and time again for the smoke to devour him from the inside out. But whenever he smoked, it caused flashes of memories: An alley, the back of the school gym, an abandoned park close to the tutoring center, the smell of smoke, the smell of his rich best friend's body spray tainted by said smoke. It was as if he had to relive every single memory and it hurt infinitely more than the hunger.
It was just too difficult to separate smoking from Minwoo. And so, along with all the other pain and trauma, he had to stop. But it wasn’t easy. At one point he had been grinding his teeth through the night, unable to sleep, sticking the last nicotine patch of the box on top of the several others already on his face. He would cry to himself, but persevere. For enduring the pain was his only out, only then would he absolve himself of all the hunger, loss, and pain.
Seeing the lighter now, chipped and dilapidated, made everything feel like a distant memory. It was as if he was holding a relic from a past life. He didn’t need it anymore, it was a symbol of a pain from a long time ago. So he should have thrown it out.
Skylar made two three crucial mistakes
He opened his drawer and tossed the old relic inside. Not even thinking twice.
After throwing away the bag, along with some trinkets and papers left atop the closet, the clean-up was done. Skylar welled with happiness. He really should have savored that happiness more, he’d regret taking it for granted in the future.
***
In a few hours, Cirrus would once again be coming over. To make up for that fact, Skylar was in the grocery store, rolling the cart along as he followed his mother, walking through the aisles. It always felt like a pain, but now that he was also inconveniencing his family with Cirrus’ constant presence, he had to compensate somehow.
Upon reaching the section of meats, her pace slowed to a halt with a question. “Is your friend staying over for dinner, Skylar?”
“I’m not sure. He doesn’t get hungry easily…”
Her lips let out a little hum at the response, reaching into the freezer and grabbing a slab of frozen strips of meat. “Well,” The slab of meat toppled apathetically into the cart. “He always stays so long into the night I might as well cook for him. He’s lost some weight after all.”
Skylar’s grip on the cart tightened, rolling it along once more. He felt a tiny pinch at his chest. Subtle but somehow heavy. “What makes you say that?”
Her tone grew a touch prouder, “His cheeks are less plump. You notice these things as a mom, Skylar. Similar things happened to you back at-” She paused again, picking up a carrot. “Well… back then.”
Maybe he really did need glasses. He thought he’d gotten better at studying Cirrus’ tiny nuances, especially now that his friend, lover, partner(?) needed the support. “I’ll tell him to eat.”
At this, his mother smiled. “You two seem really close.”
Skylar nodded, he felt a twinge in his chest. Warm.
“Is he your…” She gestured with a shrug of her shoulders. He didn’t have to be a genius to know what she meant. And he was quick to reject the notion too. Sklyar shook his head, mumbling no and other words of refusal.
He felt a twinge in his chest. Sharp. Painful. He grasped at it, begging his heart to relax…
***
“-And?” Cirrus tapped his barefoot lightly on the floorboards of his bedroom.
Skylar blinked, his chest still hurt. “What?”
“What did you tell her?” The words came out quick, as if laced with aggression. It left a tightness in Skylar’s throat.
“I said no, obviously.”
“I’m surprised you lied.” Cirrus stood up, eyeing the doorway before landing on Skylar’s study chair, it squeaked as he turned from side to side. “Is it so bad if you’re gay?”
“No, it’s not that. I just… don’t want to.”
“Why?” There was a blinding glimmer in Cirrus’ eyes. The nonchalance in the way he spoke was too innocent - or even ignorant - of the question’s weight. Skylar knew ‘why’ There were so many answers. Too many answers. He didn’t want to speak even one of those answers into the air, afraid of the chilling pain it would bring back to life.
At that point it would have made more sense to ask ‘Why not?’ But Cirrus knew nothing after all. Skylar hasn’t told him anything… yet. Obviously he wouldn’t understand. And Skylar felt all the more guilty for it.
So he looked away. “It’s complicated…”
Cirrus turned in the chair. “You know Skylar, sometimes I wonder if I actually know you at all.” He couldn’t see the taller boy’s face, but he could tell Cirrus was pouting.
Skylar muttered, shrinking by the bedside. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The back of Cirrus’ head nudged downwards by the desk. It suggested a nod, but it didn’t feel like one. Not to Skylar at least. “I know, you never do.”
The room stewed in silence for a while. Skylar sat quietly, watching Cirrus fiddle around with the trinkets on his desk. He brushed his fingers over the study books lined up on the cabinet just above, Skylar didn’t mind. He rummaged through the pens piled up in an old plastic cup, again, Skylar didn’t mind. But then he opened the drawer, which didn’t bother him at first. That is, until Cirrus asked another question.
“What’s this?” Cirrus turned, the pale white relic pinched between the ball of his fist and his thumb. The sight felt wrong, almost nauseating. As if past and present was converging into the same horrible distress that plagued the last two years of his life.
“-It’s nothing, put it back.” Skylar regretted thag answer immediately. He reacted too fast, it wasn't a good look to answer like that but the knee-jerk reaction rose from his chest like toxic bile. It left a sharp look in Cirrus’ red eyes. Filled with suspicion and curiosity. There was no stopping him now…
Cirrus rolled it around his knuckles, “Why do you have a lighter in your room?”
Skylar had to dismiss this quickly… “Obviously to light things, I used it for candles and fireworks in the summer. It’s not that weird.”
“I never said it was.” Cirrus laughed, “Knowing how you act sometimes I wouldn’t be surprised if you used this to burn your failed tests or something.”
Skylar rolled his eyes. Wrong.
“Or who knows, maybe you actually do weird shit like smoke cigarettes. At this point I wouldn’t even be surprised.” He chuckled again and stared, as if waiting for a snarky comeback.
Skylar wanted to say something. He needed to retort, to act snarky or… something, but a bundle of nerves seemed to block his throat. It was just an empty joke. He hadn’t smoked in ages, he hadn’t even touched that lighter in years. So why did it make his chest feel so cold? So tight? Why did he feel so guilty? Too much time was starting to pass in silence, he had to say something, anything.
But he settled on nothing. Skylar couldn’t respond. Why did he feel so guilty?
“No way,” Cirrus’ eyes alighted with a morbidly sublime glare, his lips grinning. “I was joking.”
“It’s not that,” He finally managed to say.
“I’m not judging, Skylar.” Cirrus sparked the flint. The yellow light wavering between them. “You stopped right? I don’t think you’ve ever smelled like smoke.”
Skylar sighed, stood up, and fished the lighter out of his hands. “I told you that’s not it.” He put the lighter back in the drawer. “Just put it to rest…”
Cirrus shrugged with an “Okay,” and the room stewed, the air suffocatingly thick. “You really are an enigma, Skylar.”
“What?” Skylar felt the lump in his throat returning.
“It’s always surprising, learning new things about you.” He clarified. “I used to think you were a nerdy pushover. But then you punched me in the gut for kissing you in front of Jisu. You’re always studying and wearing fake glasses, yet you’re surprisingly good at soccer - better than me even -, it’s almost as if you were an athlete in middle school. And now you’re being really weird about smoking-” Cirrus laughed. “Sorry, I meant whatever it is you ‘used’ that lighter for.” He spoke the last sentence in a mocking tone.
Skylar felt it, the bladed edge of Cirrus’ voice. He couldn’t help but retort. “I told you it’s nothing. Why can’t you let it go? I don’t know what you have to gain by annoying me like this.” It should have been obvious by now that Skylar didn’t want to talk about it, why couldn’t he just respect that?
Cirrus tensed up, now on the edge of his seat. “-I just don’t think it’s fair that I know so little about you. Haven’t I told you everything at this point?”
“I never asked for your sob story Cirrus.” The words left his mouth too quickly. Did he really say that? To the guy abandoned by his father? The guy abused by his stepmother? The guy who only felt comfortable enough to open up to him and no one else?
Cirrus sank back into his seat. His arms crossed tightly as if holding himself. Something heavy sank into Skylar’s chest, backtracking his words hastily as if to pull it out. “S-sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Cirrus nodded, “It’s okay.”
There was nothing left to say. The only saving grace was five minutes later when in their silence, his mother called them to eat dinner. Cirrus was the one to respond ‘We’ll be right there’, in his usual endearing voice.
“Let’s go” Cirrus beckoned, a thin flat smile on his lips. Skylar promised his mom he’d tell Cirrus to eat more, but at that point, he couldn’t say anything. He just followed.
Sitting down at the dining table, it was as if nothing happened. Cirrus smiled politely, returning all of his mom’s questions with sweet words and banter. He was always good at small talk, but there was a shroud around him during moments like these. A persona, a character, a self-defense mechanism. Skylar could tell when he turned it on, and he was definitely putting a face up in front of his family.
“Oh yeah, Skylar’s great at school.” He goaded, red eyes occasionally tracing back to Skylar’s own. It didn’t feel right. “No doubt, it’s because of his great upbringing at home.”
His mom blushed, “Oh but you’ve been such a good influence on him too! I’m glad my son has such a good friend.”
“I assure you Skylar’s been better to me than I, him.” Cirrus drank the water from his glass, then continued. For the briefest moment, Skylar swore he saw Cirrus glaring at him. “Though I do wanna ask, what he was like in middle school? ”
“What do you mean?” A half-hearted laugh left his mom’s mouth.
“It’s just hard to imagine Skylar any differently than he is now.” There was that red glare again. “Did he ever get in trouble?”
“Pfft!” Ha-yeon butted in, swallowing the slice of meat in her mouth. “Oppa always got into trouble back then.”
“Is that so?” Their eyes met again, and Skylar became sure of it. Cirrus was doing this on purpose. “Actually now that I think about it, Skylar does have some interesting hobbies.”
He wouldn’t.
“Oh,” His mom beamed, “Like what? He never tells me anything, so it’s good to hear.”
Sure Cirrus was angry but he wouldn’t do that right? He knew he didn’t want his mom to know. But that look in Cirrus’ eyes…
Cirrus smiled, “Well”
Would he?
“He used to take a lot of pictures with-” Skylar stood up, visibly flushed. Cirrus paused, startled like everyone else, then finished. “He took a lot of pictures with my dog, Candy.” He was smiling, but his eyes shot daggers. “You never showed them, Skylar?”
Skylar never took pictures of Candy, he never had the opportunity… “No.”
“Well, you did make some embarrassing faces…”
Liar. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
The rest of dinner went off without a hitch. Skylar paid no attention, barely hearing the murmurs of conversation between Cirrus and his family. His eyes were fixed on Cirrus’ plate, he barely touched anything.
It wasn’t till they were back in his room did he finally speak.
It was like toxins were concentrating in his chest, finally given a chance to let them out. “Hey, what the fuck was that? I know you’re mad at me but leave my family out of this.”
“What are you talking about?” Cirrus plopped onto the seat, eyes wandering.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t do anything. I’ve never taken pictures of Candy before.”
“Yeah well, you never told me you were a delinquent.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Is that so? Hard to tell with how little you share anything.”
“Why do you suddenly care so much?”
“Because you asked me out first.” Cirrus stood up, walking close. “Sorry for wanting to learn more about you after assuming you cared about my sob story .” He emphasized the last point with air quotes.
Skylar stared up at the boy towering over him. Those red eyes were writhing. “I said I was sorry.”
“I barely know anything about you, nothing has changed since we started going out.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to make things any harder for my mom. She’s been through enough as is. But you don’t think about how other people will feel when you do things, do you?”
Stop.
“Isn’t that why you used me for the longest time, why you kissed me in public in front of all those people? You never think about how your actions might affect other people, I bet that’s exactly why your dad hates you.”
Skylar wished he could take the words back. The horrified look on Cirrus’ face, retreating into himself… It made him wish he never went to that grocery store. If only he never put that lighter back in his drawer. If only he didn’t clean up his room that day.
“No, Cirrus I-”
Cirrus cut him off, holding his hand up and shaking his head. “Did it never occur to you that I might wanna learn more about you so I can understand how you feel? But don’t worry, I get the message.” His voice quivered, his eyes trembling. It was the first time he'd ever heard Cirrus this hurt, and it was his fault.
The taller boy picked up his bag, making swift silent footsteps towards the door. “Cirrus wait-”
“Don’t.” There was a paralyzing crack in his voice. Skylar stood helplessly and watched. After Cirrus closed the door, blocking the light from the outside, shadows filled in the space he left behind. Skylar was alone again.
“Fuck…” Skylar wasn’t the type to curse. But he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He fucked up.
***
“Cirrus, is this really necessary?” He’s said these words before. The sunset peered out of the window, casting low shadows on the empty desks around the classroom, hardly visible from behind the thin threads of the blindfold around his head. He recognized the view.
“You said you’re sorry right? Then just trust me on this.” Cirrus’ gentle voice came from behind, it sent shivers up his spine, trailing up to his neck and face. “Open your mouth…”
Skylar obliged. There was a sound of flickering. A spark and a crackle. The shroud of Cirrus’ figure moved in front of him. A softness crashed into his lips, filling his mouth with a smoky scent. It was as if Cirrus was sucking his soul out, replacing it with a haze.
He groaned, pushing at the taller boy’s shoulders until Cirrus finally pulled away.
“I couldn’t breathe…”
“Just relax. You liked this before, didn’t you? He could see a small cylinder, the size of a crayon in Cirrus’ mouth, the orange glow visible to his eyes still blinded by threadbare fabric. “Breathe…” He commanded, and again their lips crashed into one another.
It felt off. It was too warm. Too nauseating. His mouth kept filling with a haze that sent a tingling sensation shooting through his nerves. He pulled away, “I feel sick...”
“-Quiet, let it happen.” Cirrus went in a third time, his long fingers combing through Skylar’s dark hair. Skylar couldn’t help but whimper. Cirrus chuckled and pulled away, but not before slipping the blindfold off.
He could finally see properly. The glowing crayon between Cirrus’ fingers was white. Smoke danced from its glowing tip. A cigarette. “Have a hit.” He offered.
“N-no. I stopped.”
“You liked it when we kissed.”
“No…”
Cirrus brought it back to his lips, taking a deep breath. The pale glow burned brightly before being tossed to the floor. Cirrus kept it in, not exhaling till their mouths met once again as if giving him the opposite of CPR. A breath that was meant to hurt.
Skylar groaned, he wanted out. He wanted it to stop. But bit by bit, he couldn’t deny the tingle was starting to work. His shoulders loosened, and his mind seemed to wander. The softness of Cirrus’ lips sucking on his own was dizzying, almost more so than the smoke.
It hurt. It brought back memories and flashes of pain from years before. Skylar wanted to throw up.
No, he shouldn’t. Skylar tried to pull away, but Cirrus wouldn’t. He needed fresh air. A chance to breathe from the suffocation, but Cirrus gave him no chance. He tried again, pushing him away with all his might, but his arms felt like jelly, his heart pounding into his head.
It hurts.
“I can’t breathe… It hurts.” He repeated it in his head like a mantra, faster and faster until finally, he woke up.
His vision throbbed with his forehead, adjusting to the darkness of his room. There were tears in his eyes. A nightmare. He hasn’t had one in a while, but at the very least, it didn't end with him rushing to vomit in the bathroom.
Skylar reached for the phone on his desk, its sudden light upon turning it on briefly burned his eyes. It was only two in the morning. He and Cirrus just fought a few hours ago. Not only that, he’d said such harsh things.
I bet that’s exactly why your dad hates you
The words lingered in his head. He couldn’t forget the look on Cirrus’ face, it wasn’t the first time he’d thrown such pointed words at someone. For more or less the same reason too, that damned lighter.
Skylar got up from the bed, going back to sleep wasn’t an option anymore anyway. He fished the lighter out of the drawer, rubbing its faded sides with his thumb. He thought he’d left it all behind, but all it took for everything to come back was the artifact in his hand.
Holding it felt strange, like if he sparked it in the darkness everything would return in a flash. One part of him was deathly interested, the other terrified.
He recalled his dream. Cirrus kissed him so deeply, the smoke from his mouth resuscitating a long-forgotten addiction from the dead.
The buzz felt so real, almost enough to drown out his guilt. Skylar sunk the lighter into his pocket, took a deep breath, grabbed a cap from behind the clothes in his closet, and went out the door.
There was a small convenience store just outside his complex. The walk was short and eerie, the only working streetlight along the strip was flickering, and not a soul was in sight till he could see the cashier from behind the store window. Barely awake on the other side of the counter.
Skylar went inside, the glass doors slid open signaling his arrival. The cashier flinched with a less than enthusiastic “welcome,” when he beelined straight for the counter. He picked up a pack and placed it in front. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just buy one… they always came in packs.
The cashier squinted, eyes heavy. If he asked for I.D. this trip would be pointless, hopefully they were too tired to remember or care. Like the ones he used to buy from at Pohang.
“That’ll be 4,500 won.”
Good. Skylar gave him the cash, looking down to hide his face with the bill of his cap. As soon as it was bagged, Skylar grabbed it and walked straight out. The park was close by, he’d sat there with Cirrus sometime before. And just like then, it was still a ghost town.
Finally, he fished the pack out. The pack of cigarettes he’d once held every day in middle school. Skylar only needed one. He just needed to confirm something.
Skylar made a mistake.
He pulled out a cigarette.
There were many opportunities for him to bow out, yet he still made a crucial mistake...
He grabbed the lighter from his pocket and sparked it. It took a few tries, but eventually, the light stayed, swaying in front of his face. The base of the cigarette landed on his lips, the tip on the yellow light.
He just needed to confirm something.
It crackled and smoked, a mellow glow emerged, and he took a deep breath. The deepest breath he’d taken in the last two years.
A buzz filled his entire being. His suspicions were rejected.
Did it always feel this good?