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Monday, March 25th 2019
The morning peace of spring is ruined by the thundering sound of Hangyul’s heavy steps. It’s been a while since the last time he really ran and it’s already doing something to his left abdoment, the immense pain makes him wince. He swears under his breath when he nearly trips over a bike parked at the hook of the pavement, almost dropping his drawing tube bag that hangs dangerously close on the edge of his shoulder. He sends a couple more curses to Jinhyuk for his stupid beer pong late at night. He might not have missed his alarm if Jinhyuk, properly tanked up, hadn’t thrown the tiny clock off their balcony thinking it was a ball. Granted, Hangyul could have chugged down way fewer of those bomb shots, and he would have done that if not for Jinhyuk who wouldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. He didn’t work so hard on this Paul Klee inspired printed painting just for him to stupidly fail to attend this class, something Professor Kim won’t forgive, so he lists five different ways in his head on how he will make Jinhyuk suffer. Paybacks will be done.
The train doors are closing right when Hangyul taps his card on the ticket gate, screaming at no one in particular to hold it. He won’t make it if it’s not for the guy in a beige coat who holds his left foot in the middle of the door to keep it open. Hangyul hurriedly gets in, now drenched in sweat even though it’s a good 10°C out there. He instantly regrets wearing the jacket that he quickly snatched from his chair. He would be good without the additional layer, really.
“Thank you,” he says to his rescuer, not looking at him as he busily makes a beeline for the middle of the car.
“No problem,” he can hear the guy say it back.
Once Hangyul finds a vacant spot, he loops his hand through one of the pivoted grab handles and takes a good look at the guy, now standing five meters away from him. He stops dead in his track. Head empty, jaw open.
First thought that comes to his mind is lord, he looks kind of unreal.
Second thought is when people talk about love, do they mean this?
Third thought is oh, give me a break.
But Hangyul can’t stop staring at him. The guy is wearing a long, slim-fit beige coat with a fluffy white scarf wrapped around his slender neck. His silky mid-length jet black hair makes a nice contrast with his pale complexion, stopping just right above his shoulders. It’s unstyled but somehow every strand falls perfectly in their place. His bangs cover the sides of his forehead and his cheeks, framing his face and his sharp jaw nicely. He has beautiful slanted eyes full of silent mirth, they look soft-hooded from where Hangyul is looking. The guy is staring at falling cherry blossoms outside the moving train with a serene expression that stops the hands of time. The train makes a lazy turn and the morning sunlight falls on his face gently, slowly, the light reflection turning his irises the perfect shade of hazel. He blinks softly. And then he smiles. His rosy soft lips curl up and a pair of tiny dimples show up. Suddenly Hangyul feels a bit lightheaded, as if he is engulfed in a mix of bursting emotions that he can’t exactly explain. He is seeing a breathtaking painting, one that he can never duplicate in any lifetime. Not even in his dream.
Hangyul thinks maybe God has taken a liking to him. Or else why would such a beautiful man ever meet him and help his morning just like that?
This must be a sign.
I want to know him.
But how? There is no way I’m going to go there and talk to him?
But what if that’s exactly what I want to do?
God, Hangyul, look down. Look at those scruffy Vans that look like they’ve had better days at your feet. Look at your hideous jacket. You’re just going to embarrass yourself.
But I might never see him again.
Jesus, wait, maybe this is a bad idea.
Shit, it’s over once he leaves this train. I have nothing to lose anyway, right? He inaudibly asks his reflection in the window.
His reflection stares back at him in silence, looking as nerve-wrecked as he is.
Well, no, you don’t, but you also don’t need a rejection to damage your self-esteem any further.
Yeah, but—
As Hangyul is still debating with himself, the train halts to a stop.
The coat guy is no longer standing near the door, and as Hangyul frantically searches his surrounding, apparently he’s nowhere in the entire car too.
Snapping back into reality, Hangyul runs out of the train at once. He finds the guy already crossing the railway to another line. His long coat flapping against the breezing wind.
“Wait! Wait!”
Hangyul picks up his pace, going against the busy crowd.
“Excuse me, coming through!”
An angry old woman is heard shouting at him in protest but he doesn’t bother looking back.
“Sorry! Hey, wait a minute!”
The guy suddenly stops and turns back and right at that second Hangyul regrets every decision he has made that leads him up to that moment.
He is beautiful. Seeing him up close like this Hangyul can see everything about him in such massive details. It’s enough to make Hangyul’s heart palpitate at an alarming rate. It’s a lot to take in.
His eyes are almond shaped and slanted at the ends. They have a soothing gaze to them as his deep dark brown irises peer at Hangyul with a questioning stare. His skin is as white and clear as snow in December. Both of his cheeks blush a little from the cold, looking prominent as the sunlight shines on them. And he has such beautiful eyelashes too, long and thick and Hangyul knows he’s just staring now and maybe he should stop because it’s—
“May I help you?”
“Uh.”
“Yes?”
“Please give me your phone number!” Wait, shit, not this soon. “It's just. I saw you on the train and I thought— I think I fell in love with you at first sight.”
Shit.
The guy doesn’t give any reaction. He still has that soothing gaze in his eyes, but his expression is unreadable.
Great. Hangyul thinks. This is a disaster.
“I apologize if this freaks you out. Honestly, this kind of freaks me out too because I’ve never done something like this before but I— Um.”
“I don’t have a phone,” the coat guy answers, a slight apologetic tone in his airy voice.
Right. “Ah. Is that so.” Hangyul knows he shouldn’t expect anything, but this polite rejection stings pretty bad and he can’t pretend that it doesn’t. “I see. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He turns on his heels and starts walking away with dropped shoulders, sighing.
“Oh, that’s not what I meant!”
That startles him.
“I mean, I really don’t have a phone,” the guy says, now smiling sheepishly.
The next minute Hangyul finds himself sitting on the bench at the opposite line of the same station he just got off. Next to him is the beautiful guy who makes this particular Monday morning of his strangely fascinating.
“My name is Lee Hangyul, I’m an art student.”
“I’m Cho Seungyoun, I go to a vocational school for hairdressing,” he beams. Hangyul prays for his heart not to fail on him right there and then.
“That sounds interesting. I never knew we had a special school for that.”
Seungyoun chuckles lightly, “Of course we do. What’s that on your back?”
“It’s my art assignment. I have to collect it today.”
“Well, I hope you will get to your class on time then,” Seungyoun is still smiling warmly at him. Hangyul thinks maybe Monday isn’t so bad afterall.
“Yeah, it’s not starting until afternoon, so I’m good.” Never mind, who cares about Professor Kim.
Seungyoun hums. He is playing with his feet now, tapping the sole of his shoes lightly.
“Hangyul, can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Why me?” Seungyoun turns to him, his eyes twinkling expectantly. He tucks a strand of his chin-length hair behind his ear, leaving a lock of hair in front of it. “What is it about me?”
Well darn, Hangyul surely isn’t expecting that one. He purses his lower lip, thinking.
“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Hangyul fidgets while he gathers his words.
“It took me one glance at you and I couldn’t look elsewhere. Going through Monday mornings has become such a dull routine to me that I loathe so much. But somehow your presence is like a new color on my palette, making me feel thankful I woke up today and went through that same routine. Something just tells me that I will regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t at least try to ask you out. So, yeah. Sorry, I know that I sound cheesy but—”
“No, you don’t,” Seungyoun flashes that smile again. This time it’s a bit dimmed out. He looks up at the bright blue sky and takes a deep breath. “Not at all.” And maybe Hangyul is imagining it in his head, but at that exact moment Seungyoun looks strangely.. sad.
“Seungyoun, I was thinking if you had a time—”
Before Hangyul can finish off his sentence, a train comes into the station and stops right on their line.
“My train is here. I’m sorry, I have to go.” Seungyoun abruptly gets on his feet and walks away, avoiding Hangyul’s surprised look.
“Wait!” Hangyul stands up feeling as if his body is beyond the control of his mind. “I wonder— I wonder if we can meet again?” Hangyul’s heart starts beating faster. The serotonin rush has worn off now and Hangyul isn’t prepared to let this one go just yet. Not now.
This can’t be the end. I want to know a lot more about you.
It takes him a few seconds until Seungyoun turns his back and faces Hangyul. He is crying.
“I— Are you— are you okay?”
Seungyoun quickly wipes away the tears on his cheeks, “I’m fine. I just remembered something sad. Also, I think the wind isn’t really helping,” he chuckles. It hurts Hangyul hearing how forced it sounds.
“I’m okay, Hangyul. Really.”
But Hangyul isn’t a fool. Seungyoun looks visibly hurt and Hangyul feels helpless for not knowing the reason why. He can see his furrowed eyebrows and the pained expression on his face, Seungyoun’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears Hangyul desperately hates to see, and his cheeks puffy from the small warm flow falling. But he won’t let Hangyul see more of it. He rubs his eyes harshly. “We will see each other again, Hangyul.” His lips quiver a bit as he says it. “We will.”
Now he is looking straight at him in the eye.
“See you tomorrow.”
He says it while smiling, all the sincerity and emotion spilling from his gaze. But this time, it feels like a goodbye.
Seungyoun waves to him as he walks into the car, eyes never leaving Hangyul’s until the doors fully shut. There is an inexplicable shade in his eyes, and a deep sorrow tainting his beautiful smile.
It happens so fast leaving Hangyul with no time to react. Hangyul waves back, his mind an intangible mess, his emotions abstract. Before he realizes it the train starts to move until it is gone from his sight completely.
See you tomorrow, Seungyoun.
He whispers in his mind, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him that he will never see him again.
***
Tuesday, March 26th 2019
The next day Hangyul tries to find him. He takes the same train on the exact schedule like yesterday, hoping to find a beige coat among the black paddings and jackets. But nothing.
Hangyul sighs dejectedly as he looks outside the window. That’s right. He says to himself. What were you expecting anyway? This isn’t a fairytale.
He spends half an hour on the train until he arrives at his destination. He then walks a few more minutes to reach his usual spot, a small wooden bench looking over a big blue pond, where he spends his time painting or just doing useless stuff like throwing stones and feeding the ducks. He calls it Treasure Pond because it always blesses him with inspirations. More often than not it works in his favour as an art student. Today can’t be any more perfect as the cherry blossom petals coat the entire water surface; covering it completely and turning Treasure Pond bright pink. He prepares his painting tools on the bench meticulously and adjusts the canvas easel. A new art contest is coming up within a few days. Hangyul hopes he will be able to transfer the mesmerizing sight of two white swans swimming in pink flowered mirror onto the canvas, duplicating the bursting colors and intense saturation that mother earth so brilliantly designs.
It takes him less than half an hour until he finishes the piece. Hangyul sighs contentedly, feeling good about his work. He is just glad that there aren’t many people walking around nearby ruining the amazing view that feels like it’s his exclusively.
“That’s really beautiful. I love the gradient on the top flowers.” A voice coming from behind him.
“Same, it’s my favorite part too. Huh—” Hangyul whips his head back around so fast he almost throws his entire oil paint set to the ground.
It’s him, Seungyoun. Standing right behind him in a dark blue checkered coat and the same white scarf he wore yesterday. He is wearing round specs, hanging securely on his high nose bridge. His almond shaped eyes are looking straight at his newly painted canvas intently. Even from this unflattering angle, he looks really handsome. He is standing too close that Hangyul can take in his scent. Seungyoun smells like a good blend of violet leaves and mandarin pulp, with a little trace of sweet apple middle. It’s non-overpowering and calmly reassuring, just like his overall presence.
"What are you doing here?!" Hangyul squeaks. He curses internally right after.
“Didn’t I tell you we were going to see each other again?” Seungyoun replies, excitedly. And then there it is, the warm smile again. The crescent moon-like shape that his eyes curve into whenever he does that. His dimples accentuate it; cute front teeth peeking out under his lips. Hangyul decides right then that maybe he should stop trying so hard, because no matter how hard he tries he will never be able to draw something as captivating as Seungyoun.
***
“I was walking down the road when I saw someone painting by the pond. It reminded me of the art student I met yesterday. It’s kind of bizarre that it turned out to be really you.”
They are walking side by side now along the cherry blossom trees tunnel. The path is filled by the fallen petals and the bed of grass is covered with scattered pink and white flowers. Everyone around them is couple, holding hands or taking pictures together. Hangyul feels awkward by himself while Seungyoun seems totally oblivious.
“It kind of is. I can’t believe we are really meeting each other again. Suddenly I’m thankful for procrastinating on that drawing task the entire week.”
“What is it for anyway? It looked like you were really taking your sweet time on that one.”
“Huh? It’s, uh, for this contest I’m joining. I’m probably not going to make it past the preliminary but whatever.” Hangyul really needs to stop looking at Seungyoun’s bunny teeth when he talks.
“No way. It’s so beautiful that it got many people talking about it on the news.”
“Pfft. Yeah, right. That’s what I saw in my dream, too.”
Seungyoun grins, eyes twinkling mischievously.
“This place is so nice.” Seungyoun breathes in the fresh spring air before he makes a little twirl on his heels.
Hangyul bites back a smile. Okay, that’s cute. “It is, isn’t it? It’s my favorite spot in the entire city. I call it Treasure Pond because I nearly lost my life here, though I got it back right away thankfully.”
“Really? What happened?” Seungyoun cocks his head to the side, eyes questioning.
“I fell into the pond when I was five years old. I was drowning when a man came to save me and embraced me right after. If it wasn’t for him I would have been up there playing with God and flying naked baby cupids.”
Seungyoun snickers. Are those whisker dimples Hangyul sees?
“Well, first of all, I’m glad that you’re not up there with naked baby cupids. And also—” Seungyoun suddenly steps forward, closing the gap between them. Hangyul’s left brain shouts at him to take a step back quickly, but his muscles fail him, leaving him freeze at his spot like a deer in headlight. Seungyoun reaches out his arm over Hangyul’s ear, a whiff of violet leaves that’s unmistakably his seeps out from his sleeve. “—you have a flower on your head.” Seungyoun opens his palm to show a small cherry blossom petal resting on it.
Hangyul realizes he’s staring with his mouth agape. He quickly shuts it tight, murmuring in muted tone, “thanks.” Hangyul, get a fucking grip.
Seungyoun smiles in response at him. “Anyway, you must be very grateful to him.” He continues as if that just didn’t happen.
“Who? Oh, that guy. Yeah, I am. I really am.” Hangyul barely even remembers what they’re talking about, but he’s pretty sure his face is red now. Heck.
“Funnily enough, there was also a time when I nearly died at the age of five. What an odd coincidence.”
“For real? Maybe this is fate.” Shit, no, that’s cheesy. Hangyul tries to bite back a smile for the second time. This one, he fails big time.
Seungyoun sees that and he can’t help but smile too. “Maybe.”
***
“So? What happens next? You’re not going to have a wink of sleep tonight until you tell me!”
Jinhyuk has been pestering Hangyul ever since he came back to their shared studio with a big stupid grin plastered on his face. Jinhyuk might look like a lanky dumbass, but he isn’t one. Sure, he is tall and gangly and he breaks stuff easily, but he is quick-witted and unbelievably sharp with his sense. He could notice straight away that there was something happening with Hangyul and now he won’t stop until he finds out what it is.
“So you have already gotten his number?”
“Ugh, yeah.”
“Then? What’s next?”
“What’s next is I’m going to wash these dirty dishes that you have been piling up since three days ago. Jesus, Jinhyuk, what are we going to use for dinner.” He opens the top shelf to grab two packs of ramen. No, maybe just one. Jinhyuk doesn’t deserve it.
“Fuck the dishes. And we can just munch on raw ramen, problems solved. Now what you are going to do is call him and ask him out to a movie.”
“Yeah, I think the fuck not. Move.” Hangyul grabs a double-handed pot, trying to remember if one of them has washed it clean before. Whatever.
“Sir, I think the fuck yes. Or else I won’t let you use my foam cleanser again.”
“But—”
“—and back scratcher too!”
“Shut up. Look, I’m planning to call him, okay? But not now. It’s too soon. I don’t want to come off as desperate.” He is rummaging through the plate rack. There’s really no clean bowl left. Unbelievable.
“What a silly saphead. You’re going to pretend you didn’t confess to him after ten minutes of train ride together? You are desperate, silly little goof.”
His stomach is making a loud gurgling noise. Hangyul is about to scream. “Okay, just give me five minu—”
“Now, Hangyul. Call him right now.” Jinhyuk grabs Hangyul’s phone and shoves it to his nose.
“No, but why is it so urgent to call him right at this second? Give me one reason.”
“Well, because according to you, The Coat Guy has a stunning face and a stunning smile and a stunning voice. So you better man the fuck up before someone beats you to it.”
“What do I have to say?”
“Sweet fresh fucking christ. I don’t know, what about hey I’m calling you because I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I want to cup your cheeks in my hands and maybe ki—”
“You’re not helping and this is a bad idea. I’m calling him tomorrow.”
“Too late, I’ve already called him.” To Hangyul’s horror, Jinhyuk is holding out his phone in front of his face and the screen says,
Seungyoun - 00:02
“Hello?” It’s Seungyoun's voice, unmistakably.
Fuck. Fuck. Lee Jinhyuk I fucking swear to God. “Hi! Hello! Seungyoun, uh, this is Hangyul.”
He drops his pack of ramen as he blurts out. Jinhyuk is wheezing silently while laying on the floor, feet clapping wildly in the air. Hangyul wishes he had acid somewhere nearby.
“Oh, hi! I was just wondering when you would call me,” he laughs.
Jinhyuk is done mopping the floor now. He stands up, throwing Hangyul a winning smile. See?
“Yeah, that. It’s— I was just wondering if you, uh, if you—” Hangyul kicks Jinhyuk in the shin, mouthing help me.
Jinhyuk hurriedly takes out his phone, types something, and shows it to Hangyul, all the while grinning.
Go to a movie.
“I’m wondering if you want to go to a movie at—”
More typing. Seoul Cinema.
“—Seoul Cinema?”
“Sure. It’s been a while since I went to the cinema. Let’s go tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Hangyul throws a questioning look at Jinhyuk. Is that a good idea?
Jinhyuk mouths back just fucking say yes.
“Yes! Tomorrow is good! Tomorrow is nice.”
“Very well, then.” Hangyul hates himself but he swears he can hear Seungyoun smiling.
“So what do you say if we meet up at Jongno Station?”
“That’s fine by me.”
“Lovely. Okay. I guess.. See you tomorrow?"
“See you tomorrow, Hangyul.” God, if only there was a way to bottle up Seungyoun’s light voice into a jar.
Once Seungyoun hangs up the phone, Jinhyuk unleashes a banshee shrieking and teases Hangyul for being a blushing mess. The girl who lives next door will probably complain again later, but for now Hangyul is going to let Jinhyuk annoy him for the rest of the day. Maybe even for the upcoming week. Smiling to himself, he thinks he really should treat Jinhyuk to barbeque sometimes.
***
Wednesday, March 27th 2019
Hangyul wakes up early. He spends a good fifteen minutes looking through his wardrobe until he decides that it won’t make any difference. His clothes collection consists of solely white and black outfits, nothing else. An all-black look can never go wrong, he thinks as he looks at the mirror. He leaves before Jinhyuk wakes up, knowing full well that his roommate would loudly sing Careless Whisper tone in his ear. He makes sure to close the door as quietly as possible.
He gets off at Jongno Station before he quickly makes his way to Ikseon-dong, his favorite neighborhood to hang out alone. It’s not quite as touristy as, say, Itaewon, and it’s certainly way less crowded than Myeongdong. But it offers a lot of traditional tea houses, a big brownie point compared to those overpriced coffee shops at Garosu-gil. It’s filled with narrow alleys with traditional Korean style homes called hanoks scattered along the path. There are art galleries, greenhouses, and cute quaint boutiques at every corner of the street. Hangyul has visited this place far too many times than he wished he had, so he already has a couple of places in mind he wishes for Seungyoun to see. He really wants everything to go smoothly though, so he does a walking tour by himself while keeping a checklist in his head.
He buys a hotteok right across the station exit, just to check if it’s as crispy and sweet as the one he usually buys (it is). He walks along the cobbled stone path filled with locals passing by to see if the cherry blossom trees reach peak bloom as they usually do around this time (they do). He doesn’t forget to visit his most treasured traditional tea house, the one located at the very far back of the neighbourhood. It’s small, barely six tables on the floor inside. He chooses the one right next to the big clear glass wall. Hangyul shifts the fluffy cushion swiftly before he sits on top of it. He feels the floor with his palm to check if it’s as warmed as it usually is (it is). The glass wall separates the floor seating area and the owner’s garden where she keeps lots and lots of flowers. It catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam that emerges out through the leaves of the tree in the garden. It feels very homey, and the grandma who owns the place always welcomes him warmly. He orders one cup of chamomile tea with a plate of dasik like he usually does. Hangyul exhales into his cup, hoping that he won’t mess up anything today.
Seungyoun arrives in the afternoon. His long, teal-colored coat swinging along as he walks. Seungyoun is wearing a long-sleeved black turtleneck underneath with a light brown vest on top of it, looking as fashionable as ever. Hangyul can only wish he had that color coordinating skills. But alas, he only tries on the stuff that he paints, not so much on himself.
“Hi. I’m late, aren’t I?” Seungyoun rubs the back of his neck looking regretful. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I arrived just now too.”
“That’s a relief. I was worried I would make you wait.”
“Nah, nah, you didn’t.” Hangyul draws a thick underline on his imaginary note. Stop looking at Seungyoun’s bunny teeth.
“I’m kind of famished. I missed out breakfast because I woke up late, tsk. I was thinking of buying something there, do you mind?” Seungyoun says as he points at the direction in front of them.
“Huh, funny, I was actually about to ask if you would like to try the hotteok there.”
“Great minds do think alike afterall,” Seungyoun makes a comical smirk, his eyebrows wiggling funnily. Hangyul shakes his head laughing. Maybe today will be just fine.
Hangyul learns a lot about Seungyoun in only a few hours. He learns that Seungyoun has a sweet tooth. The latter flails excitedly after the first bite of his hotteok. “This is really good! And it’s almost half a price of the ones they sell near my place! Man, I knew those guys were a scam. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, this is surprisingly delicious,” Hangyul says, as if he has not tasted it a thousand times already.
He also learns that Seungyoun is more of a dog person in contrast with Hangyul and his cat obsession.
“These are cute but I already have too many dog figurines,” Seungyoun mumbles as they look around inside a ceramic shop. “Well then I guess it’s the perfect time for you to start collecting cat figurines,” Hangyul says as he shows him a pocket-sized orange tabby cat statue.
“No, thanks. One of those creatures got my puppy roughed up. This grudge stays within me forever.” Seungyoun crosses his arms on his chest, showing a look of disapproval. Hangyul thinks he looks weirdly like a meme.
“Really? A cats anti? Sir, not on my watch.” He opens his phone gallery to show off his family’s calico cat, Tama.
“I mean, I don’t know,” Seungyoun says as he scrolls down looking at more pictures, “still looks like the hand of the devil to me.”
“Excuse me.”
“You are excused.”
“Come on!”
“Hangyul, look at those evil eyes.”
“You better take that back right now. Seungyoun, look at her. Look at her soft paws.” Hangyul cooes as he aggressively zooms in on Tama’s little furry feet. “And they are pink! Can your dog do that? No, I don’t think so.”
“You do realize that those little soft pink paws hide the most dangerous weapon of all. One that nearly killed my innocent baby!” Seungyoun says as he thrusts a beagle-shaped mug to Hangyul’s eyes, nearly breaking his nose in the process.
“Okay, but at least you acknowledge that her paws look soft.”
“Whatever,” Seungyoun puts the mug back. Hangyul thanks the Lord quietly. “It still looks like a spawn of satan.”
“I— You didn’t just call Tama, the love of my life, spawn of satan.”
“I regret to inform you that I just did.”
They stare at each other. And as if it’s on cue, they simultaneously make a respectful 45° bow with hands in front of stomach. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”
They burst out laughing, earning a couple of glares from the old ladies at the store and a worried look from the cashier.
Hangyul learns that Seungyoun’s favorite flower is lily.
“No way. This looks too pretty for me to drink it,” Seungyoun whispers as the teahouse grandma puts a cup of lily tea in front of him. He stares in awe at the floating lily petals inside the transparent teapot. “I killed my favorite flower just to put it in my tea. That is just wrong,” he says as he smacks his lips after the first sip. “Not bad. I wonder if they sell this thing in a package.”
Hangyul snorts. “Really? You were feeling bad about the flower two seconds ago.”
“I do feel bad about the flower,” he takes another sip. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”
“And to think you were judging me just ten minutes ago.”
“I mean, what kind of college student never drinks coffee? That’s just not realistic to me.” Seungyoun draws in a deep breath enjoying the relaxing scent of flower tea before he takes another sip. He smiles right after. He can get used to this thing.
“You can say that because this is your first time trying flower tea. You will ditch your wicked caffeine in a few days.”
“That will never happen.” Seungyoun puts his hands together after he finishes his first cup. “Forgive me God and the coffee beans spirit for I have sinned and betrayed you.”
Hangyul laughs in amazement. Maybe he also learns that Seungyoun’s sense of humor is pretty weird.
Another thing that Hangyul learns about Seungyoun is that he has a big appetite. It is kind of endearing because he does too, if not for his limited budget as college student. They arrive at the cinema just right in time for the movie to start. Hangyul is about to walk straight to the theatre when Seungyoun grabs his arm and nudges him towards the popcorn stand.
Seungyoun smiles, “you have bought the tickets, so I’m going to buy some snacks.”
“Oh, okay. Sure thing.”
What Hangyul doesn’t expect is by some snacks Seungyoun meant one massive bag of popcorn, one grande box of nachos, medium french fries, four bars of Snickers, and two large cups of iced chocolate milk. All of that after they had udon along the way.
“Uh. Seungyoun. Are you sure this is not too much?”
“Nope! Wait, does it look too much?” Seungyoun’s lips turn into an O shape and he looks genuinely worried now that Hangyul can’t help but laugh.
“No, it doesn’t. Just the right amount I usually buy too.” God, not even close.
Everyone sitting nearby is a couple. Weird, Hangyul thinks. It’s not even a romance movie. This country and its rampant dating culture I swear. It doesn’t take him long to realize the striking irony in it. Perhaps he is no longer the special snowflake he thought he once was.
They are halfway through the movie now and Hangyul is pleasantly surprised at how interesting the movie actually is. His eyebrows scrunched up in concentration, trying to guess the plot twist that is about to come when he feels a gentle bump on his left side. Hangyul looks beside him to find Seungyoun’s head resting comfortably on his broad shoulder. The cold air and tiredness from today have lulled him to sleep.
The corners of Hangyul’s mouth turn up as he stares at Seungyoun affectionately. He slowly tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, revealing his pale cheek. He doesn’t know where the courage comes from. As if it has a mind of its own, his arm is moving by itself circling around Seungyoun’s shoulders, pulling him closer into his deep embrace. Seungyoun turns sideways in his sleep towards Hangyul, snuggling and nuzzling his nose into the warm crook of Hangyul’s neck. It feels weird, like, really really weird and yet Hangyul finds it so, so pleasantly and wonderfully normal. He can feel each breath that Seungyoun exhales. Soft puffs of warm air brushing againts his bare skin in calming, constant pace. He is too fixated on how he sits just so Seungyoun can stay sleeping in comfort. Hangyul knows that he is going to forget the rest of the movie. But what he doesn’t know is the way Seungyoun quietly purses his lips together to hide a tiny smile that threatens to bloom on his face.
***
Their date, if Hangyul can even call it that, ends at the park where Treasure Pond is located. It’s a mere two blocks away from the cinema. They have turned the illuminating lights on now as the dark sky has loomed over and the moon shows up brightly. The hanging lanterns are showing the cherry blossoms clearly in all of its glory.
Seungyoun keeps his hands deep in his pocket. The cold is starting to bother him. He steals a glance at Hangyul who seems totally untroubled by it. He smiles secretly. We are such stark opposites of each other.
“Why are you smiling?” Seungyoun jumps a little, he didn’t think Hangyul would catch that.
Seungyoun quickly averts his gaze straight ahead. “Nothing.” He doesn’t last five seconds before he finds himself stealing a glance at Hangyul again. “Why are you smiling?”
Hangyul looks down at the trampled petals, now grinning ear to ear. “Nothing. It’s just. I guess it kind of feels weird that I’m doing this with you.”
“Me too. Since it’s my first time.”
Hangyul stops in his track. “What?”
“Date. It’s my first time going on a date.” Seungyoun stops just one meter away from him. His teal coat stands out under the lights and the white background of the cherry blossoms behind him complements it perfectly. Hangyul wishes he had his canvas right now.
“No way. As if.”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe it. But I was so happy when you confessed to me the first time we met at the station. Honestly, I would never have the guts to do that.” He is kicking the petals below his feet timidly before he looks up and studies Hangyul’s face for a moment. “I have always been watching you, Hangyul.”
“What do you mean?” A perplexed look washes over Hangyul’s face as he takes one step forward.
“You didn’t notice it, did you?” Seungyoun stops moving now. He is standing still, transfixed.
Hangyul pauses. And laughs. “Here I thought I was the creepy one for staring at you on the train.” Then he sees it again. The indistinguishable glint in Seungyoun’s eyes. It’s clear as day and yet Hangyul finds it difficult to decipher its meaning.
Maybe it’s the serenity of the night time. Maybe it’s the relaxing ambience that the spring air exudes. Maybe it’s the way Seungyoun’s shoulders tremble ever so slightly from the rising cold. Or maybe it’s just Hangyul finally realizing what he wants. What he really wants.
Hangyul knows he is shifting and looking painfully awkward now. He is thinking so loud he is sure the other guy can hear it. His eyes flashing around Seungyoun’s face before settling on a point past his right ear. Hangyul braces himself for something sweet and a bit corny coming out of his mouth, a nervous look on his face as he prepares. It takes all of his willpower to say it.
“Seungyoun, can this become a regular thing? Like, hanging out together and having fun with you, I mean. I love being in your presence. I really do. Today has been a wonderful day and I can only hope you feel the same way as I do.”
His stomach turns with anxiety and he can feel his hands starting to get clammy. He inhales sharply.
“Be my boyfriend, Seungyoun.”
That’s it, Hangyul. You did it.
But Seungyoun doesn’t say anything. He blinks softly and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes like the way it usually does. He is looking at Hangyul with no traced hint of surprise or astoundment. Hangyul thinks maybe he will have to repeat that. Or maybe he will have to wait for a few more seconds until it dawns on him completely. Hangyul is considering to go over it again when Seungyoun directs his gaze upon the serene night sky. The Big Dipper and the Little Dipper spoon each other, peering down at both of them in anticipated hush. He lets out a sigh. It bears a mix of sorrow, longing, and something else that Hangyul can’t pinpoint.
“I can be frustrating to handle with, is that okay?” Seungyoun asks as he is still looking at the stars.
“That’s fine by me,” Hangyul answers, a beat too fast.
“You might not be able to see me whenever you like.” Seungyoun smiles bitterly, his naturally sparkly eyes start becoming glossy.
“That’s not a problem. I can understand that,” Hangyul says it too loudly.
“Food greatly influences my mood. It will be terrible at times.”
“I will make sure it won’t be.” Hangyul takes another two steps forward.
Seungyoun blinks again, “I see.” He has fought back the tears for quite a while now that as soon as he lowers his gaze, they come pouring down like shattered crystals and bitter shots of frozen time.
“One more, I’m easily moved to tears. Are you sure you’re going to be okay with that?”
“That’s totally fine too by me.” Hangyul reaches out to him, cupping his face in his warm hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. Seungyoun smiles, truly genuine now, all pearly whites and crinkling eyes and heart aglow.
The moonlight gently illuminates the side of Seungyoun’s face through the gaps of the trees. Hangyul thinks that maybe it would be fine if he was to die like this; to have his dream looking back at him with gleaming eyes. He pulls Seungyoun into a hug then, arms slightly trembling as he buries his face into his neck. He takes a deep breath of his scent, trying to recapture it so he can store it inside his head. Seungyoun pulls back and presses their foreheads together, eyes shut, a soft laugh escapes his quivering lips.
“I think this is the part where we should kiss.”
Under the falling petals and curious stars, Seungyoun mirrors a smile that matches Hangyul’s as their lips finally meet.
The kiss is sweet. It is smooth, tender, and just about everything Hangyul wants to experience with someone special. And it is everything he thought he would never have. Seungyoun gives a gentle bite on Hangyul’s lower lip as he tugs on his hair, fingers curling desperately into it. It sends an electric feels everywhere in Hangyul’s body, each of his nerves stir and rouse frantically. Both of them can feel how they start to melt against each other like two pieces of a puzzle sliding together. Breaking apart feels regrettable, but it has to be done. When Hangyul opens his eyes and sees the smile he so desperately desires, he is sure that any and all repercussions of whatever that’s going to happen will be well worth it.
***
Saturday, April 13th 2019
It’s been more than two weeks since their first date. Hangyul invited Seungyoun to his humble little studio near the suburbs, half an hour away by train from central Seoul. He had to make a pinky promise with Jinhyuk the day before that he would treat him to an eat-till-you-drop meat buffet if he stayed out of their place for the whole day. The horribly ugly guffaw of a laugh that his roommate gave out at his offer was enough for Hangyul to consider taking it back, but Jinhyuk stopped him and swore an oath that their apartment would be his entirely. But Jinhyuk is Jinhyuk and it’s already 1 in the afternoon since he purposefully takes his time doing unneccesary stuff.
“You have never vacuumed your bedroom in your entire twenty years of living. Let alone the kitchen. So why exactly are you doing it now?” Hangyul taps his fingers against his thigh impatiently while walking back and forth nervously. Seungyoun can arrive anytime soon now. He hates to imagine Jinhyuk talking to Seungyoun while spilling all the embarassing stories about him. He shudders at the mere thought.
“Relax, goofyhead. I just want to show The Coat Guy that his boyfriend has been living in a decent place, that’s all!” Jinhyuk chirps annoyingly as he misses out an obvious clot of dust in the corner. Hangyul groans. He is not even trying at all.
“This is not what you have promised me, alright? I said right when th—”
Drrt. Drrt.
Someone buzzes the bell.
“I will get that!” Jinhyuk throws the vacuum to the side before he leaps out running to get the door.
Hangyul tries to tackle him to the ground but Jinhyuk dives under him like the sneaky eel that he is. “No! Fuck—”
It’s too late, he is already at the door now. He grabs the handle and opens it excitedly.
The blinding rays of sunlight comes in abruptly framing a tall silhoutte in a long grey coat. The figure takes a step back, obviously shocked at the loud sound and sudden door opening. Jinhyuk squints at first from the harsh shaft of daylight before he smiles and reaches out his arm to offer a handshake.
“Seungyoun, right? I’m Jinhyuk, Hangyul’s roommate.”
Seungyoun beams, the radiancy so high Hangyul thinks it can really rival the sun’s. “Nice to meet you, Jinhyuk. I’m Seungyoun. I have heard a lot about you.” He shakes Jinhyuk’s hand just as excitedly.
Jinhyuk grins, “Is that so? Have you heard the one about me being the fundamental force of your first date?”
“Okay, now—” Hangyul hurriedly steps in between them, “Jinhyuk is very sorry, Seungyoun. But he has to leave right at this second to pick up his mom. Isn’t that so, Jinhyuk?” Hangyul glares at him, lips forming a straight thin line.
“Well, to be honest my mom drives so I don’t actually have t—” Hangyul throws his backpack a good five meters away onto the empty corridor before he kicks Jinhyuk in the butt.
“Have a good day with your mom!” he nonchalantly shouts as he pulls Seungyoun inside and slams the door shut.
Seungyoun spends the whole afternoon lending a hand to Hangyul to tidy up his messy nest. It’s not helping that Jinhyuk is an architecture major. Half of the living room is completely covered with boxes, multiple chipboards, about a hundreds of scattered toothpicks, and other unidentified materials he always brought home every single day. The other half of the room is filled with old sketches, dirty brushes, and empty acrylic paint tubes that Hangyul mindlessly threw around.
“How do you live in a pigsty like this?” Seungyoun says, half amused half defeated.
Hangyul blushes. “I could swear it doesn’t look this bad from what I remember.”
“Oh my God. You are hopeless.”
Seungyoun is still teasing Hangyul and his clutter mess of a room when he sees a carved box on the top shelf next to a pile of worn out books.
“Is this one of your art project too?” Seungyoun asks him as he picks the box up and blows away the dust coating the surface.
“What is?” Hangyul turns to look. “Oh, that. It’s not. I got that from the man who saved my life. Remember? The life saviour who saved me from drowning? I actually met him again in my hometown some years after that happened. He asked me to take care of that box until we could meet again. I have never opened it, I think it requires a key or something? Anyway I don’t think I will meet him ever again to be honest.”
Seungyoun is examining the box in his hand. Eyes carefully scanning every detail of the carving, smooth lines engraved deeply into the material. “I see,” he says quietly as he puts the box back. This time one shelf lower than where it was previously placed.
Seungyoun cooks for both of them. He ties up his hair behind before he puts on a white towel around his head. Hangyul laughs. “You look like one of those sushi chefs.”
“Well then you will have to pay a hefty price on tonight’s dinner because I am better than them,” he smirks as he prepares the ingredients.
Hangyul takes out his phone. “Chef, can I ask for a photo together? I’m a big fan.”
Seungyoun scans him from top to bottom. “Sure. Only because you are kind of hot.”
Hangyul pauses, jaw hanging open like an idiot. He has a long-going problem; he doesn’t know how to respond to compliments. He knows he has to work on it because he’s an adult now but it’s just so weird. Compliments are just not his cup of tea. Hangyul hates compliments.
“Are you going to take a picture or not?” Seungyoun stares at him amusedly.
Hangyul clears his throat before he hastily takes a picture of both of them. He goes back to his seat with a big smile plastered on his face. He notes to himself to print it tomorrow and frame it on his bedroom. Maybe if he has something to stare at every morning he will wake up easily. Seungyoun snickers a bit as he focuses back on his vegetables.
He skilfully chops up the potatoes and meat at amazing speed and precision. He brings the spoon to his mouth, blowing on it softly before he takes a sip of the boiling broth. The luscious smell of beef stew soon invading the whole apartment. Hangyul’s stomach growls loudly. It’s been a while since the last time he ate a proper meal, one that doesn’t involve ramen or come from an instant package.
After he is done, Seungyoun places the bowls on the table while smiling proudly. “Straight A’s across the board for the presentation,” he comments himself. Chest puffed out, shoulders hang very high in the air they can almost touch the stars. “It won’t be different for the taste too, I guarantee.”
Hangyul takes a big bite in anticipation. “Wow, this actually tastes a whole lot like the one my mother makes!” He says as he noisily munches on the meat. “God, this is really good.”
Seungyoun smiles, “that’s because we put chocolate as condiment.”
Hangyul pauses, spoon hanging in the air just before it is about to enter his mouth. “Wait, how do you know?”
“What do I know?”
“That my mother uses chocolate as condiment?”
Seungyoun stares hard at the grain of rice in front of him. “You said it to me that one time.”
Hangyul purses his lips. “Did I? I can’t recall that I did, though?”
Seungyoun quickly takes a bite, still avoiding Hangyul’s questioning look. “I’m pretty sure you did.”
“Huh. Really.” Hangyul continues munching. “Now that I think about it, I feel like this has happened before.” He is still looking at Seungyoun.
“What has happened before?” A slice of meat slips from Seungyoun’s spoon.
“Remember when you said that my painting got people talking about it on the news? You were actually right. A week after you said that, I won the contest and they showed it on the morning news. That’s weird.”
Seungyoun chuckles, cheeks filled with meat. “Must be a coincidence, I guess?”
“What if,” Hangyul utters as he looks up at the ceiling, “what if you have the power of precognition?” He laughs at himself and then looks at Seungyoun if he finds it as funny as he does.
But Seungyoun has stopped busying himself with his meal now. He is staring deeply back at him. “What if I do have that? What would you do?”
Hangyul stops laughing. “Well, I think that’s kind of amazing?” His eyes waver a bit before they crinkle into an eyesmile. “I would ask your help to win a lottery.”
“I wouldn’t help you. Might as well win it for myself,” Seungyoun giggles, the tension disappears just as soon as it appeared. “I just thought that your painting looked really magnificent, that’s all. I had no doubt that you would win it.”
Hangyul hums. “You really have a ton of confidence in me.” He smiles shyly at his spoon, circling it on his hand as he says it.
“I do. Always.” Seungyoun flashes his warm smile again. One with an indecipherable hint that shows up from time to time.
This time Hangyul doesn’t see it.
The next hours are filled with longing gazes and soft smiles. They both curl into each other on the couch while a random movie is playing on the TV. Seungyoun is still tracing lazy patterns across Hangyul’s hip. Hangyul is a bit ticklish but he can’t say that Seungyoun’s touch feels unpleasant on his body, if his furious blush and frantic heartbeats are any indication. His fingers are dipping into the sliver of skin underneath Hangyul’s shirt in a way that makes Hangyul embrace him even tighter. Neither of them are talking but words are unnecessary.
They fit perfectly into the curve of each other’s body. Hangyul’s arm holds tighter around Seungyoun’s waist, pulling him harder into him, close enough that Hangyul can feel his hip pressing against his very own. Hangyul can feel Seungyoun lean in towards him. He places a soft kiss against the thumping pulse under Hangyul’s ear, he thinks he can feel the smile on his lips as he does it. Hangyul ignores the licks of arousal as Seungyoun’s hand finds its way to Hangyul’s soft tummy, rubbing it while he hums in response.
Hangyul lunges forward to kiss Seungyoun before he knows it. Their lips meet in the middle, and a myriad of emotions rush through Hangyul the moment he feels Seungyoun’s lips on his own. Kissing him tastes like a gulp of oxygen after drowning for so long, desire and passion budding and erasing all of his agony. He needs more, he whispers as he maps the inside of Seungyoun’s mouth with his tongue. Emotions try to claw their way out of him as he tastes Seungyoun’s moans and feels his breath against his lips, tiny puffs of air that are as exhilarating as the sounds. His room feels as hot and stuffy as Seoul in July now. But Seungyoun’s lips are opening again over his and effectively scrambling his thoughts until they are all blurry, all he can think about is him. And maybe Hangyul doesn’t really mind it.
Seungyoun takes the last train going back home. Hangyul sheepishly tells him that if he wishes to spend the night, he will be totally fine with that. Seungyoun shakes his head regretfully saying that he must go home, although he would really love to take on the offer. He is just not able to do so. Hangyul assures him that it’s okay but he insists on accompanying him to walk to the nearest station.
As they make their way through the dark alley, Hangyul looks down at Seungyoun’s pale hand that turns a bit pink from the cold. He reaches out for it, opening his big palm to engulf Seungyoun’s small hand and bury it deep into his pocket as they walk side by side in silence. Seungyoun sniffs and when Hangyul asks whether he’s okay, he nods and scoots closer to him instead. Hangyul swears that he sees a glimpse of tear trailing down his cheek before he swiftly rubs it with his sleeve, dampening the fabric of his coat. Hangyul clasps Seungyoun’s hand tighter. Thoughts lingering in his head and gnawing on his curiousity that continually grows even bigger by the day.
***
Hangyul throws himself on the couch the second he takes off his shoes. The warmth of his home mingled with the wind sounds outside makes him sleepy. He is about to close his eyes when he notices a small notebook on the floor near the bookshelf. The cover is red and the neat handwriting on it is gold-colored. Hangyul stares at it for a moment before he stands up and picks it up from the floor. Drowsily, he opens the first page without much thought.
April 24 – Seoul National University, College of Fine Arts. Second floor, the third painting studio.
Hangyul checks the calendar. Today is April 13th. That’s still 11 days away. He flips to the next page.
April 23 – I will meet Hangyul’s parents.
Hangyul’s drowsiness starts to disappear slowly. Huh. He hastily flips to the next page. What is this.
April 22 – We will fly a sky lantern together.
April 21 – Hangyul will fall sick. I will stay at his place the whole day.
April 20 – I will meet Tama. She will scratch my left foot.
Hangyul isn’t even reading now, just quickly scanning the dates on each page and the first line of each essay. His guess is Seungyoun might have been quite drunk everytime he wrote it. That might explain the backward dates. But Hangyul can’t make any wild guess on what those lines mean. How did Seungyoun even meet Tama.
He keeps flipping over the notebook when his eyes fall on a particular page.
April 13 – I will cook for Hangyul for the first time.
Hangyul pauses. Seungyoun was with him the whole time he was here and not once did he grab a pen let alone write this entire essay. How.
April 12 – My 12th day.
April 11 – My 13th day.
These dates. Hangyul squints, drilling a hole between the numbers looking for an answer. Why do they steadily go back.
His phone suddenly vibrates. It’s Seungyoun.
“Hi, have you arrived yet?” Hangyul asks, still looking at the notebook.
“You’ve already taken a look at my notebook right?” Seungyoun ignores his question.
“I, uh, I have.”
“You don’t understand it, do you?”
Hangyul fidgets. “Uh, no I don’t, to be honest. What is this exactly?”
“I’m hiding something from you.” Seungyoun’s voice sounds stern and unwavering.
Hangyul notices it too, he ponders the unusual tone in Seungyoun’s voice for a moment. “Can you explain what that is?”
Seungyoun doesn’t say anything for a while until he takes a deep breath.“I will tell everything to you tomorrow. Meet me at the bench in front of Treasure Pond. Bring the locked box with you, okay?” Hangyul can tell that he is still holding his breath.
“The box? What does the box have anything to do with this?”
But Hangyul is talking to no one. “Hello? Seungyoun?”
The phone call is already cut off.
Hangyul spends the whole night staring at his ceiling. Perturbing thoughts gnawing at his brain like a worm, the growing anxiety whirling in circles inside his stomach making him feel incredibly sick.
***
Sunday, April 14th 2019
They meet at the bench as planned. Hangyul arrives ten minutes earlier from the scheduled time but he finds Seungyoun already sitting there, eyes staring at the distance, at nothing in particular. He sits beside him and waits. Five minutes pass without them saying anything.
Seungyoun shifts in his seat for a bit then faces Hangyul very closely. “I will now tell you something very unreal. Hangyul, will you believe me if I say that apart from this world you’re living in, there is another world existing in parallel together?” Seungyoun doesn’t break his eye contact. “I come from there.”
Hangyul blinks. Once. Twice. “What?”
Seungyoun turns his entire upper body in his seat so now he is facing Hangyul completely. “My world’s flow of time is tunning in the opposite direction of this world, your world. The future that you will know is the past that I have already been through before.”
“Seungyoun?” Hangyul calls out hesitantly. “What are you even—”
“That explains the backward dates on my notebook.” Seungyoun continues without faltering. “You were also wondering how I knew that you would win the contest and that your painting would be showed on the news. That’s because I have seen it, Hangyul. I have listened to people talking about your painting before you even drew it.”
Hangyul is thoroughly silent now. What is Seungyoun even on about. Is this some kind of sick joke.
Seungyoun ignores the visibly confused look on Hangyul’s face. “I don’t have the power of precognition like you said. I simply live on a different flow of time compared with you. That’s how I knew it.”
Hangyul searches for his surrounding, trying to find some other objects to think about instead. He can’t believe they’re wasting their time having this insane conversation right now. He is really not in the mood of fooling around. Not after he spent the whole night being worried sick about Seungyoun and about how the thing that Seungyoun hides would affect their relationship in general.
Seungyoun realizes that it’s not going anywhere. “Did you bring the box?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
Hangyul gives the box to him, his hand shaking slightly from the bubbling anxiety as he holds it in the air. Seungyoun reaches inside his shirt and pulls out a necklace with a key pendant hanging on it. He uses it to open the locked box. A soft click can be heard once he turns the key to the side. Inside the box there is a picture that Seungyoun gently takes out. It’s a picture of him, Hangyul, and Hangyul’s parents, smiling as they stand side by side.
Hangyul gasps. This can’t be real. This is not happening.
“We took this picture together, your future and my past. Ten years from now I will meet your 10 year old self and ask you to keep the box for me.” Seungyoun is still trying to find Hangyul’s eyes, his expression pinches in sorrow. “We can only meet once every five years when the moon waxes and wanes in thirty days. You have met my future self when you were 10 years old. You have also met me when you were 5 years old. Remember? That time at the pond?”
Hangyul abruptly turns to look at him with his eyes widened and mouth wide open. “You’re telling me that you saved my life years ago?”
“Yes, it will be fifteen years in the future for me. I’m going to save you when I’m 35 years old.” The apologetic expression washes over Seungyoun’s face as the glint of reminiscence reflects on both of his eyes.
Hangyul stays completely still. “So that was you all along.” The oxygen feels like it’s thinning out for him. The air suddenly suffocates him as his head throbs excruciatingly inside his skull, threatening to burst anytime soon. Everything is too much to take in. Everything makes his vision blurry.
“You also saved me when I was 5 years old. It was you, Hangyul. I was saved by the 35 year old you. We met because we saved each other’s lives from both ends of our progressing times in opposite direction. And now that we are meeting each other again at the age of twenty, we have become a couple who loves and protects each other.”
Seungyoun stretches his arm to stroke Hangyul’s hair but the latter flinches, taking a step back immediately.
It’s then that Seungyoun’s heart truly begins to shatter. But he forces himself to smile, “Looks like I have done a good job with your bangs afterall.”
Hangyul is still silent for a couple of minutes.
“So tell me, would I be correct to think that everything you have said to me, everything you have done together with me is just following the notebook?”
“Yes. We followed— I mean, we are still following that important fate that binds us together.” Seungyoun carefully studies Hangyul’s face trying to read his expression.
“I see.”
But Hangyul’s eyes are hollow and empty. Seungyoun finds nothing there no matter how closely he searches. He lets out a deep sigh of despair. For once the notebook doesn’t tell him what he could do; what he should do. The growing distance between them torments him like no other.
They spend the rest of the afternoon at the tea house that they visited on their first date. Seungyoun gasps once he sees the garden. He hums when he feels the warmed floor. He looks genuinely awed when the grandma brings out the lily tea that he ordered.
“I have no idea there is an actual flower when you buy a flower tea!” He takes a picture of the teapot excitedly.
Of course you have. Hangyul thinks sadly. You have ordered that exact same thing before.
“Sorry, I’m being amazed over nothing. It’s just that I’m usually more of a—”
Coffee person.
“—coffee person.”
Hangyul doesn’t reply. His fingertip absently strokes the rim of the porcelain cup. He looks at the soft curls of steam that the hot tea emits in front of him. Constantly, swiftly, it disappears into thin air just as soon as it leaves the edge of his cup. How funny, Hangyul thinks. How startlingly relevant it is to what they are feeling, what they are experiencing. Memories that don’t go together and last barely enough for them to reminisce over. And yet there they are. Their existences subsist simultaneously, supporting each other while binded by the tightened strings of unchanging fate.
Out of nowhere, an uninviting dove grey cloud begins to bleed into the blue sky.
Our days used to be so precious and colorful, Hangyul whispers in his heart as he looks at the guy sitting right across him. Now our time feels different. No, our time is different. Everything up to that point, everything that Hangyul has felt and cherished, is something that Seungyoun is yet to be aware of. Likewise, the things that make Hangyul ponder, the things that he desperately searches for answers, are secrets that Seungyoun carries quietly within him. Their memories of their respective times together are different with one another.
Hangyul smiles bitterly at their reflection in the glass wall. So this is why everything has been playing out too smoothly. Every step, every decision, every word he says is exactly according to the plan. Is this the fate he so believes in?
Hangyul is deep in his thought that he doesn’t realize Seungyoun is holding his hand. His thumb makes a circle soothingly on his knuckles.
“Let’s go home,” he says softly.
Hangyul grits his teeth harshly. “I don’t want to go home. Is this one of the plans too? To go home after you have told me everything? What is the cue? Is it the grey cloud looming over in the sky? The honk from the car across the street? What is it?” He doesn’t realize that he’s shouting now.
Seungyoun obviously wasn’t expecting that. “Hangyul, no, I was just—”
“Do you have to follow firmly what each word says on the notebook? Is it not acceptable if you don’t want to do something like what it says? You don’t have to do it to this extent, Seungyoun, not this detailed.”
He gets up, yanking his bag from the floor, eyes firm on the exit door.
Seungyoun trails behind him. He grabs Hangyul’s arm just as soon as they step out of the house, holding it firmly in his grasp.
“Listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you and it’s not my intention at all to make you upset. I know that this is unfair, and I’m sorry that it has to be like this, but I can’t let you leave just yet.”
Hangyul stares at him, eyes red from how angry he feels. “How am I supposed to act like everything is normal? You have been a hell of an actor, I will give you that. But everything is not normal. It is not. For God’s sake, I don’t even recognize who you are!”
Hangyul regrets it as soon as the words left the tip of his tongue. Seungyoun’s breath falters. He looks obviously heartbroken now, it’s almost as if Hangyul can hear the cracks splintering across his heart. He doesn’t say anything and yet Hangyul can still feel his tight grip on his arm, the way Seungyoun’s fingers tremble hard and his knuckles turn as white as a corpse.
“Just leave me alone,” he mutters as he steps onto the busy road.
Seungyoun grabs his bag along with his collar and pull Hangyul to the back only seconds before a bus speeding by, honking loudly as its tires make a defeaning screech.
Hangyul freezes at his spot, he feels the blood drain from his brain and his face turning it as pale as the color of his palm.
Seungyoun isn’t saying anything, but he is unable to face Hangyul. His head is lowered, eyes staring at the ground. His hand is still forming a fist, clenching so hard Seungyoun can feel his nails digging painfully deep into his skin.
“So that’s what it was for,” Hangyul breathes shakily. “Goodbye, Seungyoun.”
***
You cut me, I bleed gold
I miss you though you’re cold
You’re inside a different soul when I’m not around
But that’s okay, I do the same
The girl next door is playing a song Hangyul has never heard before. As he lays on his back in his bed, he tries to listen to its lyrics that strangely hit too close to home.
Now as his mind wanders down the memory lane inside his head, he realizes of the thing he has never noticed before. He used to think that Seungyoun always cried at strange timings. At the first time they met, the first time they kissed, the first time they held hands. It hits him only then that it’s not the first time for Seungyoun. They were his lasts.
Hangyul gasps in disbelief. How could he be so stupid? Everything is only gradually dawning on him now.
What’s first for me will be the last thing for Seungyoun which he can’t go back anymore. The crestfallen look on Seungyoun’s face when they met at the station appears right before his eyes. All this time he has been suffering alone. Quietly without letting me know. And yet despite everything he always smiled.
Hangyul sighs, his heart feels unbearably heavy. He closes his eyes but his mind stays restless. Every second of him shouting at Seungyoun’s face keeps being replayed on the back of his eyelids. He hates seeing the way Seungyoun flinch at his snappy tone again and again and again, vividly. He opens his bloodshot eyes, checking the time on his phone.
Everytime the date changes, our paths go in opposite ways. That’s why the Seungyoun that will pick up my call now is..
Hangyul sits straight away. His fingers hastily typing Seungyoun’s name before his thumb presses the number on the screen at once.
He waits with bated breath.
“Hello?”
“Seungyoun.” Hangyul pauses, forming his complex thoughts into words.
“Hangyul, are you okay?”
“Tomorrow. I mean, your tomorrow. I will have a disgusting attitude towards you. I will say things that I don’t mean, and it will hurt you deeply. I will get over it soon. I will make sure that I get over it soon. Even if it pains you, please believe in me when I say that eventually I will be back to my usual self.” He gulps down hard and shivers.
“You have always tried your best, and you have really done your best. The you that I have met is the you from now on who will cry from time to time. You cried when we first held hands because it would be the last time for you. That’s because starting from that day we will start becoming separated. I’m sorry for not being sharp enough to see it, for not understanding you just a bit earlier, and for acting cold towards you when all you do is try to protect me.” Hangyul bites down on his lip so hard he can taste the blood seeping on his tongue.
“I love you, Seungyoun. I love you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t change the yesterday’s me and what he has done to you.”
Seungyoun isn’t saying anything from the other line, but Hangyul can hear his breath starts to tremble.
Then he says shakily, the way it sounds almost like a whisper, “I love you too, Hangyul. I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this. I’m sorry that things have to be entirely difficult.”
Hangyul stares longingly at the photograph of them together on his desk. “It’s not entirely difficult. Loving you is easy.”
Hangyul gazes up at the ceiling. His eyes are burning from the tears that keep welling up as he desperately fights to keep them from falling.
“Will I see the yesterday’s you tomorrow?”
“Yes, you will.” Seungyoun replies, his voice resonates weakly. Hangyul decides that perhaps he still hates himself.
“See you tomorrow, Seungyoun.”
“See you tomorrow, Hangyul.”
Hangyul closes his eyes, letting his tired mind drift into a deep sleep as the song continues playing faintly in the distance.
Darling, we don’t ever have to pretend
Who knows what or who we choose
Right now I have nothing to lose
You love me, I love you
***
Monday, April 21st 2019
Time has little to no meaning. Hangyul has come to term that whatever happens does so for a reason, as Seungyoun strongly believes. But that doesn’t stop him from dreading everything when the end of their time comes so much quicker than expected. The rays of sunlight that shine through his curtain look dull all of the sudden. He groans into his pillow, turning to his side to get a good look of Seungyoun in the photograph.
What if I die today. He thinks to himself. What if this is a dream and I haven’t actually woken up. Will that amount to something? Will it at least change anything?
Seungyoun stares back at him, his eyesmile radiates brightly not dimming one bit.
What if we have never saved each other. What if it was God’s plan to take our lives together so we can be closer to one another.
Hangyul can feel the fabric of his pillow dampen from the hot tears that start falling from the corner of his eyes.
I was right, this is such a sick joke. One that you and I don’t deserve to be a part of.
Hangyul closes his eyes. They sting so bad but not enough to divert the pain in his chest. He prays loudly in his heart for God not to let him open his eyes again. He does it over and over again until his stream of consciousness leaves him as he drifts off to sleep.
***
Tuesday, April 22nd 2019
This is the second day for Seungyoun and the second to last for Hangyul.
Just as written on the notebook, Seungyoun meets Hangyul’s parents for the first time. They love him almost immediately, not to Hangyul’s surprise. Seungyoun is timid when he introduces himself to them. But the way he conducts himself, the way he pays attention closely to Hangyul’s parents’ stories, and the way he talks reassuringly and kindly win their hearts in no time. Hangyul’s mother sneakily grabs his son’s arm and drags him to the kitchen.
You need to treat this one right, she whispers to his ear, a smile so wide it reaches her eyes.
Hangyul can’t bring himself to reply so he just nods in sullen silence.
They invite them to dinner where Hangyul’s mother cooks his favorite food. Beef stew. The one with chocolate as condiment, just like Seungyoun has made previously in Hangyul’s time. Seungyoun seems so eager to try the secret recipe himself. He whispers to Hangyul’s ear how he can’t wait to try it at home. That brings out a tiny, miserable smile to Hangyul’s face. Seungyoun doesn’t notice it.
A calm night cradling pitch black darkness and a thin layer of fogs serves as the background of a heartbreaking scene. One that two guys who sit next to each other on the bus are a part of. Hangyul has been sitting in complete silence for a while now, eyes looking at the street lights passing by outside the window. Seungyoun fidgets restlessly in his seat. The thick stillness in the air makes him anxious. Seungyoun doesn’t realize it, but the apparent gloom that Hangyul has is yet to be something that he can relate to. Not yet.
“I love your parents,” he tries to open up a conversation. “I think they are wonderful.”
When Hangyul is still not saying anything, Seungyoun searches for his reflection on the window. Hangyul has his eyes pressed shut tightly, forming a thin line. Even in the darkness Seungyoun can see how hard Hangyul is biting his own lip.
“Why can’t we be just like them. Why can’t we spend time forever and grow old together.” He is still looking outside the window.
Seungyoun looks down solemnly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But still. I’m sorry.”
Hangyul bits down on his tongue even harder to keep in a sob that threatens to leave his lips. Seungyoun gently puts his hand on Hangyul’s back. He knows that no matter how hard he tries to console him it will amount to complete nothing.
Any willpower that Hangyul has been sustaining to hold back his tears immediately vanishes as soon as Seungyoun rests his head on his shoulder. Hangyul breaks down without a sound, covering his face with his hand as he lets Seungyoun hold the other one in silence. Seungyoun runs a thumb over Hangyul’s fingers as he lets him cry. Hangyul presses his forehead into his hand, sobs shaking his entire body.
His brain is telling him that he should enjoy this moment while it lasts. Enjoy the last time he feels Seungyoun’s calming presence nearby, the last time he breathes in his violet scent, the last time he can hold his chin and land a kiss on his lips. But his heart betrays him. It swells and swells painfully until it feels like his ribs are too small to contain it. And it aches excruciatingly. And Hangyul lets it do all of that. He lets it pour unforgiving dark red color all over his insides. He cries and cries as the quiet hum of the bus continues piercing the stillness of the night.
***
April 23 – My first day. For Hangyul, it is his last day.
I will go to the third painting studio on the second floor. I will be the model of Hangyul’s painting.
Cherry blossom season has ended weeks ago. The temperature has risen significantly since then. Less people is wearing their coats now. Instead, vests and sweaters seem to be popular.
Hangyul is sitting inside the art classroom where he usually spends his time at. He carefully searches and picks for brushes he thinks he will need. He is staring at the clipped article pasted to the board on the wall. It’s from a certain newspaper. That one time he won a grand art contest making Professor Kim immensely proud that he made a special section on the board just for him. He smiles, how is it that it feels such a long time ago?
He is still thinking about the article when Seungyoun opens the door, head peeking in from outside. He steps inside the classroom wearing a white sweater and long khaki pants. Looking unsure and terribly awkward.
“Erm. Hi?” He says. One hand timidly waves at Hangyul.
“Hi, Seungyoun. It’s your first day with me. Is it okay to model for my painting?”
Seungyoun adjusts his sling bag on his shoulder nervously. “I mean, I have never done it before. I might be a bit awkward but if that’s okay with you then I’m okay too I guess?”
Hangyul smiles. “Don’t worry, I know that feeling. I was once a model for my friend’s painting too. Even worse because I was sporting such a weird hairstyle with ends that kept sticking out everywhere. Now it’s a hell lot better.” Hangyul touches his hair. “Thanks to you.”
Seungyoun listens to him intently before he gives out a tiny smile. The stark difference is too apparent to Hangyul’s eyes. Hangyul tries to ignore it.
“Please, have a seat.”
Before Hangyul can start working on the painting, Seungyoun opens his bag and pulls out a red notebook.
“If you don’t mind, I have a favour to ask.” Seungyoun says as he holds a pen in his hand and a notebook in the other. “Could you please tell me in details of what has happened so far?” He looks at Hangyul straight in the eye. His eyes sparkle with curiousity as the morning light fills in the entire room.
Hangyul thinks his eyes sparkle too, though with something entirely different.
“Please tell me how we will spend the next thirty days.”
Hangyul stares at Seungyoun’s eyes.
They were beautiful when I first saw them, and they are not any less beautiful now. I hope I have told you that in your tomorrows, Seungyoun.
He smiles. “Alright. Shall we start with the first time we met?”
***
Thursday, April 23rd 2014
Seungyoun drags his feet lazily as he adjusts his heavy bag on his shoulders. Fuck, does it hurt my back so much. He really doesn’t look forward to the extra class he has after school. Why can’t he just spend his free time stress-free, he sulks.
He stops when he sees a tall man with a pair of broad shoulders waving at his direction. Seungyoun turns around looking behind him, but there is no one else there except him. The man approaches him from across the soccer field, his long legs closing their distance in no time.
“Hi! You are Seungyoun, aren’t you?” The man greets him with a warm smile on his face.
“Erm. Who are you?” Seungyoun eyes the tall man wearily. He remembers his mother’s advice of staying away from strangers as far as possible.
“Never mind who I am. I have something to give you. Here,” the man hands him an unidentified rectangle-shaped thing. It’s wrapped tidily in smooth brown paper. “I hope you like your present, Seungyoun. Until next time!”
“Wait—” Seungyoun can only utter that one word before the tall stranger exits the school gate. Who was that. He ponders. And why does he look familiar.
Seungyoun sits on the nearest bench to open up his present that the mysterious man gave him. He gawks when he sees it. It’s a painting of a beautiful guy with shoulder-length black hair. He is wearing a white sweater with a brown button-down underneath. But this guy— wait a minute. The guy looks uncannily like him. Seungyoun spends a good five minute examining every detail of the guy’s features. His piercing stare, his slanted eyes, his pale cheeks.
It’s me. This is me, no doubt.
He is still questioning the identity of the guy in the painting when he flips over the colorful canvas. There is a scribble written with a pencil on the back of it.
Cho Seungyoun, April 23rd 2019
Seoul National University, College of Fine Arts
The third painting studio, second floor
And an even tinier words under it.
See you then.