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March, 1880
Kyle Moore had never seen so many people in one place in his life.
Sure, Chicago had plenty of hustle and bustle, but it was a sprawling city--nature’s metropolis, its hinterlands not all that different from the downtown. His father’s textile factory had plenty of workers toiling at the noisy, dust-filled looms, but even the factory couldn’t compare to the number of people bustling around the New York Naval Shipyard. Technically, the shipyard was in Brooklyn, which was an entirely different city, but people called it the New York Naval Shipyard. This confused Kyle, as did the location of his intended destination--the marine barracks, located somewhere in this labyrinth of dry docks and steamship hulls and torpedo fragments and buildings--so many brick buildings!
He finally asked a disgruntled metalworker for the location of the barracks. After he stopped to ask a flag maker for more directions once he got turned around, he finally found the right building. He entered and ascended two flights of stairs to the third floor, where he found a door marked “304.” He tried the handle, found the door unlocked, and pushed it open. He peered around, taking stock of the sparse furnishings--two beds, a table between them with a rustic stoneware pitcher and bowl, two wooden trunks at the base of the beds. There were no signs of another occupant. Kyle placed his satchel down onto the bed on the left side of the room and opened the trunk. Inside were two blue jackets, two white shirts, and two sets of gray pants. That brought Kyle’s total number of suits to four.
A far cry from the cherry furniture and heavy bed curtains of his childhood bedroom, with drawers and a wardrobe overflowing with fine fabrics, well-cut jackets, and tailored trousers. A memory flashed in his mind--his father’s brow furrowed, eyes clouded with disappointment and despair. These circumstances were an improvement.
Stomach rumbling, he ventured back into the maze of the Naval Shipyard and out into the streets of Brooklyn. He bought oysters the size of his head from a food cart and sat under a tree in Washington Park, watching the different people go by--all shapes and sizes and colors. Maybe he’d write a poem about Brooklyn, about new beginnings, redemption, change.
After a few hours, Kyle returned to his room and found the door mostly closed, but slightly ajar. He pushed on the door and found a young man, probably around his age of 18, sitting on the other bed, legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankles. His head was bent over a book, and he didn’t look up--clearly he had not heard Kyle come in. Kyle took in the young man’s shirt--once ivory, but now tinged slightly gray after years of contact with city dust. His pants were brown and burgundy striped--faded from being worn. His socks were brown, with a small hole in the left sole. His hair was short and dark brown, parted on the left side, hanging down slightly over his right eyebrow. It looked very soft.
“Hey!” Kyle exclaimed, and the young man jumped, dropping his book in his lap. He looked up at Kyle, and Kyle noticed high cheekbones, an angular jaw, thin but shapely lips, a straight nose. His eyes reminded him of the man who ran the laundry down the street from his father’s factory. They were currently staring fixedly at him, slightly narrowed in anger. Kyle concluded that this man was one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen.
So much for redemption, Kyle thought ruefully.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I’m Kyle Moore. We must be roommates--unless one of us is in the wrong place.” He chuckled to himself. The other man looked at him, gaze steady, but otherwise expressionless.
“I’m Eugene,” he finally responded.
“Eugene! What a lovely name.” Kyle smiled. Eugene didn’t. He picked up his book and continued reading.
“What are you reading?” Kyle asked, sitting on his bed. Eugene didn’t answer. Kyle bent his head sideways to read the spine: Two Years Before the Mast, R.H. Dana.
“Oh, I’ve never read that. Very appropriate for our setting though. Do you like poetry? I quite like Walt Whitman--I hear he lives here. Or used to live here. Or maybe he died in a railroad accident…I’m not sure.” Eugene continued to read, eyes glued to the page.
“It’s such a nice day! Why aren’t you reading at the beautiful park down the street? It’s my new favorite place in the city.” More silence. Kyle looked out the window, briefly, but his eyes wandered back to Eugene. It was hard to look away from him.
“It’s quiet in here,” Eugene muttered. Kyle noticed his voice--deep, but with interesting inflections to some of his vowels, unlike any voice he’d ever heard before. He wanted to hear more of it.
“At least it was.” Oh. Kyle was being rather disruptive.
“My apologies--I’ll let you read. I just get excited when I meet new people. Perhaps we can talk more later, over dinner? I’ll buy you a sandwich, to make up for my lack of manners. Deal?”
Another pause, and then Eugene, still reading fixedly, nodded his head ever so slightly. Kyle smiled. He would befriend this intriguing, quiet roommate if it was the last thing he did. But hopefully basic training wouldn’t be that disastrous.
—
Later, they sat in Washington Park, silently munching on their sandwiches, when Kyle asked the question:
“So, where are you from?”
Eugene stiffened beside him. He turned toward Kyle, eyes narrowed again. Not the response Kyle wanted.
“Here,” Eugene replied, then took a bite of his sandwich.
“Oh, so you know your way around! You can show me the ropes. I’m from Chicago. Just arrived here today, actually. This city is beautiful!
“Chicago?” Eugene asked.
“It’s a city in the middle—“
“I know where Chicago is,” Eugene snapped. “Why are you doing your basic training here, in Brooklyn?”
Kyle sat up a little straighter. He smiled around his bite of sandwich. Swallowing, he said, “Those are the most words you’ve spoken to me since we met.”
Eugene didn’t respond—just kept eating his sandwich.
“To answer your question, I had an…incident at home. Had to leave. Very excited to be here!” He looked over at Eugene, who continued staring fixedly at his sandwich. “So, are your parents here too?”
Eugene swallowed. “My parents are dead.”
Kyle coughed around his bite of sandwich. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more considerate.”
Eugene finished his last bite, then looked at the ground. “It’s okay,” he murmured, and glanced up at Kyle. “You didn’t know.”
Kyle gave him a sympathetic glance before finishing his sandwich. They walked back to the barracks in silence, but the silence felt different this time. Eugene seemed less sullen and more sad. Kyle made a vow: he would never be responsible for Eugene's sadness again.
—
The next morning, they line up in the courtyard outside of the marine barracks for their first drill of basic training. They begin with simple drills, marching and holding their rifles. Two hours in, they are standing in line with rifles shouldered, the drill sergeant marching back and forth in front of them, when he stops suddenly in front of Eugene.
“You!” he barks. Eugene doesn’t flinch--just stars fixedly ahead. “Chinaman!” the sergeant barks again. This time, Kyle, four men down the line from Eugene, flinches. Eugene, however, remains still.
“Laps around the barracks. Now!” Eugene stands there for a moment before he begins running. Kyle frowns in confusion. Eugene did nothing to elicit such punishment. Were they all supposed to stand there and watch him run?
Not Kyle. He looked down at his rifle, looked back up at the drill sergeant…and released his grip on the gun. The rifle fell to the grass with a thick thud.
The drill sergeant whipped around from watching Eugene run to glaring at Kyle. “Moore!” he yelled. Interesting that I’m “Moore,” and Eugene is “you,” Kyle thought. Although, come to think of it, he didn’t actually know Eugene’s last name.
“What’s wrong with you? You can’t even hold up a rifle? You’ll never make it as a Marine. Laps with the Chinaman!”
“Yes sir!” Kyle yelled and took off after Eugene. It took Kyle about a lap to catch up with him, after which he was already panting. Eugene seemed to be barely sweating, despite the fact that he was on lap number 5.
“Hey!” Kyle whispered between pants. Eugene glanced over, brow furrowed in confusion.
“What are you doing?” Eugene asked. God, how was he not even breathing heavily?
“I didn’t want you to have to run alone,” Kyle replied, wheezing slightly. “Jesus this is hard.”
“You should be more careful. You don’t want to get on the sergeant’s bad side.” One trickle of sweat ran down Eugene’s face. Kyle watched its path as it rolled down the side of Eugene’s cheek and fell off his chin. He momentarily forgot about his own discomfort.
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I’m very charming.” Kyle chuckled, which turned into a cough thanks to the panting. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Eugene kept running.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Eugene said once Kyle caught back up with him. “Whatever you did.”
“I know,” Kyle responded. “But I did it anyway.” Eugene stared at the ground. They continued to run in silence, broken by the occasional moan from Kyle about how he was going to die, here, on the first day of Marine basic training, in the courtyard of the New York Naval Yard. Eugene said nothing--offered no encouragement, but he kept pace with him. He didn’t leave Kyle behind.
—
That night, Kyle lay sprawled on his bed, face down. Everything hurt--his arms, his legs, his feet. He had never been in so much pain. Eugene sat just like he did on the first day, nose buried in his book.
Kyle turned his face over to look at Eugene. “I know you’re reading, but can I ask you something?”
Eugene put the book on his lap and turned towards Kyle. Unlike the first day, he didn’t seem as annoyed at the interruption. He stared at Kyle until Kyle realized that he wasn’t going to get a verbal affirmation to keep going.
“I know you said your parents were dead, but do you have any family? Here? Or in China?”
Eugene sighed. Oh shit, Kyle thought. I’ve messed up again. Why did he insist on being so nosy? If he didn’t have any family, would he want to talk about it? Actually, he probably would. Kyle loved talking. And he really loved talking to Eugene--even though Eugene didn’t say much back.
“I’m not Chinese,” Eugene said. Kyle looked at him in surprise.
“You’re not?”
“No.” Kyle was listening closely to detect annoyance in Eugene’s voice. He didn’t seem annoyed--just resigned. Like this had happened many times before.
Kyle was afraid to ask the next polite question--Eugene hadn’t reacted well the first time he asked. He prayed Eugene would volunteer the information he wanted to know. Eugene was generally not forthcoming about volunteering information, so this prayer would probably be futile--but Kyle prayed anyway.
Perhaps Eugene was in a sympathetic mood, considering Kyle’s plight--in pain, prone on his bed, arm dangling down to the floor.
“I’m Korean,” Eugene said. Kyle looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “From Korea.”
“Oh!” Kyle paused, thinking of what to say next. There was only one thing to say. “Where’s that?” Shame washed over him. He hated to look ignorant in front of Eugene.
Luckily, Eugene didn’t sigh or frown at him again. Instead, he reached over the end of the bed into the trunk and dug around. He pulled out a well worn volume. Kyle sat up as Eugene flipped open the book. He peeked at the cover--Pocket Atlas.
Finding the page he wanted, Eugene turned the book to Kyle and pointed to a small peninsula jutting out into the ocean. “This is Korea. It borders China, and is just across the East Sea from Japan.”
“And that’s your home?” Kyle said, leaning over between the beds to look more closely at the map.
“No. My home is here, in America,” Eugene stated.
“Of course,” Kyle murmured. “I’m sorry.” He reached out his hand for the book. “May I see?”
Eugene handed him the book. Kyle studied the small peninsula, the tight curves of its rugged coastline. He looked back up at Eugene’s face, studying Kyle studying the book. A tremor ran down Kyle’s spine. He liked being gazed at by Eugene.
This time, Kyle asked no further questions. It was up to Eugene to elaborate. This tactic seemed to work, because Eugene said a few moments later, “I was born there, but I came here after my parents died. When I was nine.”
“Where were you born?” Kyle asked. Eugene took back the book. His fingers brushed Kyle’s. Kyle noticed his hands--they were large, very elegant, and his fingers were long and thin. Eugene turned the book around again and pointed to a city in the middle, on the western side. “Here.”
“Han SEE ong” Kyle read. Eugene’s lips curved up into the smallest of smiles. A warm, slow heat climbed up Kyle’s chest. He made another vow: he would keep drawing out those smiles, even if he had to make a fool of himself.
“Han-song” Eugene intoned.
“Can you teach me something in Korean?” Kyle asked brightly. Eugene put both his books away and climbed under his blanket.
“Be careful. What if I taught you something that made you look stupid?” Eugene said, another small smile playing across his lips. Kyle’s heart jolted. He pulled back his own blanket and slid into bed.
Eugene blew out the candle on the table between their beds. Kyle waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark, until he saw Eugene’s chest rise and fall evenly, and only then did he whisper: “You can teach me anything you want.”
—
May, 1880
Two months into basic training, Eugene and Kyle had fallen into a routine of sorts. Days were often filled with drills. Kyle, realizing his physical deficits compared to the other recruits, would spend any spare time he had running extra laps, lifting extra weight, doing extra push ups. Eugene would spend his extra hours at the shooting range, putting bullet after bullet into the targets until he could hit the middle every single time.
The other recruits, while not outright malicious towards Eugene, tended to avoid him. Kyle wondered what their attitude would have been if he had not attached himself to Eugene, creating a sort of buffer between him and the others. However, Eugene was very adept at earning the trust of others, if not their friendship. For instance, when one of the recruits tripped and fell during a long run, Eugene helped him get up. He would perform these silent acts of kindness for others, expecting nothing in return. It was one of the things that drew Kyle towards him. He sensed such warmth underneath that cold exterior. He also sensed the cold exterior came from a painful past, and was meant to protect Eugene from a world that could be so merciless, so cruel.
They would spend their weekends wandering around the city, Kyle remarking on everything he saw, Eugene a steady but often silent presence beside him. Kyle considered it a victory that Eugene came on the walks, even if he didn’t talk much. Although Eugene was not forthcoming with details about himself, he also didn’t seem to be pushing Kyle away. But maybe he also realized that Kyle was nothing if not stubborn when he wanted something. And he wanted to befriend Eugene.
One afternoon, they sat by the waterfront, gazing out onto the East River. “Isn’t this country remarkable?” Kyle remarked. “You can really be anything you want. Look at all the people we saw today, working at all sorts of jobs!”
Eugene snorted. “You can,” he replied.
“I can what?”
“You can be anything you want.” Eugene paused, watching a boat float by. “I can’t.”
Kyle sucked in a breath. How many times was he going to stay something stupid in front of Eugene?
“You clearly chose to join the Marines. This is my only option.” Kyle looked away from the water and down at his shoes.
“Well, it looks like you don’t need to teach me any phrases in Korean for me to stay something dumb,” Kyle said.
And then, the most magical thing happened.
Eugene laughed.
His laugh was unexpected--it exploded out of him, but it sounded less like a bark and more like a giggle. It was such a contrast to his speaking voice, Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle along, even though the laughing was at his own expense. He looked over at Eugene, smiling wide after his laughter had faded. His eyes were crinkled at the corners. Kyle admired his very nice teeth.
A small coil of dread formed in Kyle’s stomach. He feared the warmth he felt when Eugene smiled, the uptick in his heartbeat when Eugene looked at him or sat near him. He swallowed, trying to gain some control over his mind and body. He could not let Eugene know how he felt. They had a precarious relationship built on shreds of trust--Kyle couldn’t threaten that in any way.
As they were walking back to the Navy Yard, they passed a tailor. Kyle stopped to admire a dark blue suit jacket in the window. He turned to Eugene and looked from him to the jacket a few times.
“That dark blue would look nice on you,” he offered. Eugene didn’t respond. He grabbed Eugene’s arm and pulled him into the shop.
“What are you doing?” Eugene whispered. “I can’t afford anything in here.”
“Every man needs to have one nice suit. My father taught me that. Please, let me be the one to provide you with your first nice suit.”
Eugene balked. “I can’t let you do that. It’s too much money.”
“Do you have a birthday coming up? It can always be a thank you gift--thank you, for being my friend.”
Eugene’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you usually buy people gifts just for being your friend?”
Kyle brightened. Well, he didn’t deny that we are friends, he thought. But he also did not want to push too hard. He wanted to spend some more time in the store, around the beautiful fabrics he missed from home, so he asked to see some neck ties. Eugene wandered around while Kyle browsed, and then came to stand next to him.
“Next week is the anniversary of my arrival here. Nine years,” he said, while Kyle continued to sort through the ties. Kyle looked up at him expectantly.
“What better occasion to mark with a new suit!” he exclaimed. He waved the tailor over, and then turned back to Eugene. “If it’s okay with you?”
Eugene hesitated, holding himself stiffly. He gave Kyle a tiny nod. Kyle grinned. He chattered away while the tailor fitted Eugene for his suit--about his favorite fabrics, his father’s factory, how the newfangled department stores opening up were going to kill all of these small businesses and wasn’t that a shame? (Eugene looked at the tailor sympathetically when Kyle said this). Kyle also took this moment to admire Eugene’s muscled forearms, his strong back and shoulders as the tailor’s measuring tape wound around them. He looked away, though, when the tailor measured Eugene’s inseam. That was too much to consider.
A few weeks later, they returned to the shop to pick up Eugene’s suit. Eugene kept turning on the pedestal, looking at himself, mouth slightly agape. Kyle beamed at him. “You’re a new man, Eugene!” Eugene smiled in reply.
“Thank you, Kyle,” he said. Kyle beamed, then declared, “We deserve a night on the town after this! We have to show you off in your new suit!”
He took Eugene to a variety show he had read about in a newspaper a few weeks ago, complete with comedy, singing, dancing, and a very entertaining juggling act. They entered a nearby bar after the show. While Eugene was taking in his surroundings, Kyle handed him a glass.
“What’s this?” Eugene asked.
“Beer!” Kyle exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had beer before?” Eugene shook his head. “Try it and tell me what you think!”
Eugene took a sip. He thought for a moment. “It’s…bland.” Kyle laughed. “But it’s not bad!” Eugene took a larger sip, while Kyle drank from his own glass. They chatted about the variety show--Kyle was particularly impressed with the juggler.
“That woman who sung…her voice was beautiful,” Eugene remarked, finishing his glass of beer. Kyle gestured the bartender for another one and leaned in closer to Eugene.”
“That wasn’t a woman.” Eugene looked confused. “It was a man, dressed as a woman.” Eugene’s eyes widened.
“Really??” Eugene sounded genuinely surprised. He took a swig from his new glass. “Wow. She was very beautiful.”
Kyle’s heart began to beat a bit faster. The slow warmth spread across his chest again. He recognized this feeling, but was afraid of it. Hope.
Kyle lost count of the number of beers they had, and they stumbled back to the Navy Yard, each supporting the other. They finally managed to get up to their room, after Kyle tripped on the steps, Eugene giggling behind him. Kyle plopped down on his bed and began pulling off his tie. To his surprise, Eugene sat down beside him.
“This was fun,” Eugene murmured, laying his head on Kyle’s shoulder. Sober, Kyle may have stiffened at the contact. Inhibitions lowered, he leaned his own head into Eugene’s.
“I agree,” he replied. They sat there for a few moments until Kyle felt Eugene’s head move underneath his own. He raised his head and turned to find Eugene looking at him. Heat spread up his spine as he stared into Eugene’s eyes. He counted his heartbeats, which seemed to have slowed--one…two…three…
The next thing he knew, Eugene’s lips were pressed against his own.
It took him a second to realize that Eugene, not him, had moved his head to press their lips together. Once he had processed this, he then realized that he had frozen, sitting there, lips touching Eugene’s. They were just as soft as he imagined they would be. Kyle leaned into Eugene, moving his hands to cup Eugene’s face. He ran his right hand along Eugene’s jawline, prompting Eugene to press more firmly into Kyle’s lips. Kyle moved his arms down to Eugene’s shoulders, to the lapels of his jacket, pushing the suit coat off his shoulders and halfway down his arms. Eugene shrugged off the jacket, then grabbed Kyle’s lapels and pulled Kyle towards him, so that the two of them lay sprawled, their upper bodies lying on the bed, their legs hanging over the side. When Eugene opened his mouth for an intake of breath, Kyle licked Eugene’s lips, one gentle swipe upward. Eugene gasped--the warmth that had crept up Kyle’s spine before was replaced by what felt like a jolt of electricity. Hesitant to remove his mouth from Eugene’s, he also felt that he was wearing entirely too many pieces of clothing. The desire to wear less clothing won, and he sat up to remove his jacket and shirt. Watching him, Eugene pulled off his own shirt and swung his legs up on the bed. Kyle placed his legs on either side of Eugene and leaned back over him, pressing their lips together again. Eugene wrapped his arms around Kyle’s waist, snaked his hands up over his back. The hardness between Kyle’s legs strained against the front of his trousers. He was holding his hips over Eugene’s, but decided to roll his hips down to brush his hardness against Eugene’s. The moan that escaped Eugene’s lips, such a contrast from any sound Kyle had heard him make before, delighted Kyle. He let out a short laugh, and Eugene smiled up at him.
“Move over,” Kyle said, and Eugene scooted to the wall. Kyle lowered himself next to Eugene and moved his hand down Eugene’s chest to the waistband of his trousers. He swiped his palm over Eugene’s hardness, eliciting another moan. His hand hovered over the buttons.
“May I?” Kyle asked. Eugene nodded. Kyle unbuttoned Eugene’s trousers and then his own. He took both of them into his hand and rolled his hips again, towards Eugene. Eugene brought his hands up around Kyle’s head and brought their faces together again. They moved, not always together, not always in perfect rhythm, but enough to make their breath come shallow and Kyle to hear more of Eugene’s delicious moans--and to add some of his own into the mix.
When Eugene came in his hand, he slumped his head down on Kyle’s shoulder. Kyle thought he felt him bite down, into his shoulder. He hoped he would leave a mark. But he didn’t pull away, not until Kyle came himself, head thrown back. He flopped over onto his back, the sounds of their slowing breath filling the small room.
Eugene, head still on Kyle’s shoulder, placed his arm around Kyle’s chest. After a few minutes, Kyle noticed that Eugene’s breath had gone very still. He looked down at him and realized he had fallen asleep, his chest rhythmically rising and falling. Kyle wouldn’t move--couldn’t move. He didn’t want to disturb Eugene, but he wasn’t sure how he could possibly sleep this close to him. He stared up at the ceiling and ran a hand lightly through Eugene’s hair. It was just as soft as he’d imagined. He closed his eyes and tried to immerse himself in this moment--tried not to think about tomorrow, when they would wake and confront what they’d done.
—
Kyle woke the following morning to the sound of Eugene’s groaning. He opened his eyes and looked over at Eugene, who still had one arm thrown over Kyle. The other was cradling his head.
“Oh--I forgot to mention the after-effects of beer. Or at least, consuming too much beer.” When Eugene didn’t respond, the familiar feeling of dread crept in, taking up residence in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed and dared to ask the question that terrified him.
“Do you remember last night?” Eugene opened his eyes, meeting Kyle’s gaze.
“Of course I remember.” Kyle let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Have you…ever done that before?” asked Eugene. Kyle looked away from Eugene and up at the wood planks of the ceiling.
“Yes.” Kyle swallowed, but he felt ready to reveal what had happened back in Chicago. “I got caught. With a friend. My parents…they didn’t exactly send me away, but I thought it would be easier if I left. It’s not like my father needed me to take over the business--I have two older brothers. Perhaps I just didn’t want to face their disappointment for a while. I thought becoming a Marine would make them proud of me again.”
“I’m sorry.” Kyle gave Eugene a small shrug. He didn’t regret what had happened--especially not now. He never would have met Eugene if he had not come to New York to join the Marines.
“Have you ever done that before?” Kyle ventured.
“No.”
“But were you…familiar?”
Now it was Eugene’s turn to look up at the ceiling. He didn’t seem disgusted or annoyed--just thoughtful. “When I was a child, I saw a traveling theater group--a namsadang. Their shows--they are very…explicit. And they have all sorts of scenes. Even between men.”
“And you watched this as a child?”
“Everyone watched. And when I came here, being on the waterfront…you see all sorts of things.” He turned back towards Kyle. Kyle scrutinized his face, looking for signs of inner turmoil. Waiting for Eugene to push him away. But Eugene hadn’t moved--he still had his arm tucked around Kyle.
Finally, he just asked: “Are you upset?”
“No. Why would I be upset?”
“Well, some people think it’s a sin.”
“Ah.” Eugene nodded knowingly. “Your God.”
“Not yours?” Eugene didn’t answer that question.
“I’m not upset. Are you?”
Kyle considered this. He was raised in a faithful household. He thought of himself as a man of strong faith in God. And yet, he did not understand why, with so much evil in the world, God would care very much what he did in bed. So if he once felt shame, that feeling had long dissipated, replaced only by a desire to find someone he could connect with--not just share a bed, but share intimacy as well.
He turned back to Eugene. “No. Not anymore.” They laid for a moment in silence until Kyle said, “Come on, let’s get some breakfast. It will help with the headache, I promised.”
As they dressed, Kyle asked Eugene: “All that time at the waterfront…no one ever approached you?”
Eugene looked at him with confusion. “No? Why would they do that?”
Kyle couldn’t help himself--he laughed. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re a very handsome man, Eugene.” Eugene raised an eyebrow at Kyle. “Trust me, I see how people look at you on the street.”
“Oh, they look at me. But that’s not why they are looking.”
“Now listen, I know I’m not the most…aware person sometimes. But I know what I see. They are looking at you, Eugene.”
Eugene turned towards the door, opened it, and began striding outside. Kyle followed him, admiring the movement of his shoulders and back. Some of Eugene’s walls may have fallen last night, he thought, but there were still many that were firmly intact.
—
A few weeks later, Eugene and Kyle were strolling along the waterfront, enjoying the evening chill after a warm summer day. Kyle continued to watch as various men passed them and looked back at the two of them--particularly at Eugene. He noticed the subtle head movements, up and down--appraising him. Eugene continued walking, seemingly oblivious to their eyes.
A woman appeared next to them and reached out to touch Eugene’s shoulder. Eugene jumped and stepped sideways, bumping into Kyle.
“Going somewhere?” the woman asked. “Want some company?” She pointed up to a window on the third story building. “If you’re not in a hurry, you could join me.”
Kyle smiled smugly--he loved being right. Eugene, on the other hand, stopped walking (which caused the other two to also stop walking) and stared at the woman, mouth slightly agape.
“Does he not speak English?” the woman asked Kyle. This question seemed to jolt Eugene out of his stunned stupor. He sputtered a “No thank you” and sped away, causing Kyle to run after him and leaving the confused woman behind.
Kyle said nothing to Eugene in the moment, but when they were back in their room, he couldn’t help but squawk triumphantly: “That woman, Eugene. I told you! She wanted you!”
Eugene stared at the floor, the wall--anywhere but Kyle. “That’s never happened before.”
“Well, would you ever take a lady up on that kind of offer?”
Eugene flinched. “No.”
“Why not? Ladies not your type?”
“It’s not that…” Eugene continued staring at the floor. “I just…don’t think I could be with someone…I didn’t know very well. I wouldn’t feel very…comfortable.”
“But you feel comfortable with me?”
“Well yeah…you’re my friend.” Kyle beamed. He was thrilled to be a source of comfort to Eugene. And yet, there was a hint of sadness in Eugene’s reply. His disbelief that someone would desire him…it made Kyle upset to think that Eugene felt himself unworthy of attraction.
Eugene stood in the middle of their room, suspenders down around his hips. Kyle grabbed the front of Eugene’s shirt and pushed him against their door. With fistfuls of coarse fabric in his hands, he crashed their lips together, biting down on Eugene’s bottom lip, snaking his tongue between Eugene’s lips and running it over his teeth. Eugene’s breath came ragged, and Kyle made quick work of the buttons on Eugene’s trousers. He took him in hand, giving him a few long, slow strokes, then knelt down in front of him. He closed his lips over the tip, swirled his tongue around, and watched Eugene’s eyes close and his head fall back against the door with a soft thud. Holding onto the base, he gradually took more of Eugene into his mouth, and he thought—not for the first time—as he watched Eugene’s face contort, about how pleasure and pain look remarkably similar. The thought saddened him. He didn’t want Eugene to ever feel pain.
When Eugene’s breath came faster, when Kyle thought he might be close to the edge, he pulled off, hand still enclosed around him. He waited for Eugene to look down at him, to meet his eyes, and then he said:
“You are worthy of pleasure, Eugene. And you are worthy of love.”
He took him back into his mouth, as deep as he could, and the moan Eugene let out this time had just the smallest inflection of a sob, if Kyle really strained to listen. Kyle watched Eugene as he came, noticed the wetness at the corners of his eyes. He stood back up and kissed him, gently, until his breathing slowed. Until Eugene grabbed him this time and pushed him towards his bed, pinning his arms down and leaning over him, mouth hovering near the shell of his ear.
“So are you,” Eugene whispered.
—
June-July, 1898
On the ship bound for Cuba, Kyle and Eugene stood at the deck, gazing out onto the Atlantic Ocean.
“I feel like a revolutionary—going to liberate the Cubans from their oppressive Spanish overlords,” Kyle declared. He grinned at Eugene, who did not grin back.
“Is that what we’re doing?” Eugene continued to stare at the horizon. “Or are we just replacing one overlord with another?”
Even eighteen years into their friendship, Eugene continues to surprise him and make him think about the world in new ways. They became sergeants together, proving themselves by placing in the top of their recruits class. Then, lieutenants, still serving alongside each other as equals.
Until Kyle was promoted to Captain, over Eugene.
They stayed in the same regiment, serving together. But it took time to get used to this new dynamic, and Kyle felt Eugene withdraw from him, at first, ever so slightly. They found their footing again—the foundation of their friendship remained steady, if a bit shaken. They still talked, and laughed, and drank together—but Kyle’s rank always hovered between them.
After the battle, this is what Kyle remembered: the smell of sulfur from the gunpowder, the feeling of the dirt pressed against his back, the searing pain running up the length of his arm, the twisted grimace of the man who pinned him down with the intent to kill him. Then, the sound of a gunshot, the man falling backward, and Eugene, standing mere feet away, rifle raised. The fear of being immobilized, of feeling trapped—and then Eugene’s hand wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him up, pulling him to safety. This was not the first time Eugene had saved him.
—
1903
On a mountainside outside of Hanseong, Kyle watched as a palanquin approached, and a young woman’s head emerged. He watched her look at Eugene, intently, with unmistakable purpose. This was a familiar sight to Kyle, but what followed was entirely new to him.
Eugene looked back at the woman. He returned her intense stare with one of his own. Kyle knew that look. He knew it, because before, it had been directed at him.
“I think she wants to see you,” Kyle said to Eugene, battling with his facial muscles to keep them as neutral as possible.
Eugene continued to look after the palanquin. He did not meet Kyle’s eyes. “I guess she wanted to look.”
Kyle suddenly felt eighteen again—remembering this conversation from all those years ago. And yet, he remained hyper aware of his present. He knew they had reached a turning point—and there was no going back from this moment.
“That woman—she wants to see you.” Eugene continued to refuse to look at Kyle. He mumbled, deflected, changed the subject when Kyle asked him about her over their soup. What Kyle wanted to say was, It’s okay. It’s okay to love her, to want her, to want to be with her. But Eugene didn’t need his permission, and the words remained unspoken.
--
One evening, they were both in Eugene’s room at the Glory Hotel, drinking American beers that Eugene had procured somewhere. Kyle had noticed a black handkerchief on the coffee table. He’d never seen Eugene carry a black handkerchief, but he chose not to ask about it. Not yet, at least.
Eugene sat in the chair opposite him. “I’m still thinking about that document. The one Taylor supposedly had. I wonder--”
“Eugene!” Kyle interrupted. “Let’s not talk about work right now. We’re relaxing!” He clicked his beer bottle against Eugene’s. “How is it, being back here? Is it what you expected?”
Eugene sighed. “I don’t know how to answer that,” he said. “People treat me differently now. But many things are still the same.”
“Are you happy to be back?”
Eugene took a deep swig of his beer. “Not exactly. It is hard to be here.” Kyle felt his mouth twist downward, and Eugene must have noticed, because he added, “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
Kyle was not expecting him to say that. He knew, of course, that their long friendship was important to Eugene. But after the way he looked at the noblewoman…he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore. He wasn’t sure what part of Eugene’s heart he occupied.
Feeling emboldened--perhaps from the beer, perhaps from Eugene’s words--he got up from his chair and took two steps toward Eugene, who remained sitting. Eugene looked upward and Kyle leaned over, covering Eugene’s lips with his own.
They had not done this in a while--not since Kyle received his promotion to Captain, over Eugene. The power imbalance had made him uncomfortable. He never wanted Eugene to feel pressured. But this time, curiosity got the better of him. He wanted--no, he needed--to see if he could still make Eugene’s breath hitch, his heart race, his cock hard.
Eugene reached up to grab Kyle’s Sam Browne belt and pulled him down towards him. Kyle perched on the edge of Eugene’s lap, snaked his hand around Eugene’s neck, ran his hand up the back of his head, buried it into his soft, thick hair. He tugged, just slightly, and when Eugene’s lips parted, he ran his tongue over Eugene’s teeth.
He pulled away and looked into Eugene’s eyes, watched the quick rise and fall of his shoulders, noticed Eugene glance over towards the bed. Kyle followed his gaze, stood back up, and reached for his hat on the table.
“I should get some sleep. We both should.” He started to walk toward the door. Eugene, still seated in the chair, swiveled his head to watch him, lips still slightly parted, still working to catch his breath. When he reached the door, he turned to look back at Eugene.
“I still find it very funny that of all the rooms in this hotel, they put you in room 304.” Eugene continued to stare at him, confusion clouding his eyes. Kyle placed his hat back on his head. “Goodnight, Eugene. I hope you sleep well.” He didn’t wait for a reply, opened the door, and walked out of the room.
Kyle moved down the hallway and towards the stairs, head bent. He knew it wouldn’t have been the same. They were too changed--him, physically, with only the use of one arm. Eugene, with thoughts of another in his head. He could have had him--but he chose to let him go. What else could he do? He knew, despite Eugene’s at times icy exterior, despite his default mode of keeping everyone at arm’s length (everyone except him), that Eugene had much love in him to give to the world. And Kyle would never want to deprive the world of any of Eugene Choi.
He returned to his room, tossed his hat on the dresser by the door, and began the slow process of removing his clothing. He wasn’t sure how much sleep he would get tonight--but he would face the day tomorrow, because he didn’t know how many he would have left with Eugene by his side. He would cherish whatever time God consented to give him.
—
There were many things left unsaid in Joseon. When Eugene emphatically declined his invitation to travel to the Heaven Lake, Kyle wasn’t exactly surprised--he suspected he wished to remain at the legation due to a not infrequent visitor, of the noble and female variety. He was glad that Eugene was pursuing something he wanted. Eugene thought too much, considered too much the feelings or expectations of others. He wanted him to be selfish, for once.
And yet, when he returned, bearing a number of gifts, none of them were for Eugene. Eugene seemed disappointed, and surprised, at this outcome. What Kyle wanted to say: You are my friend, but you are also my inferior. I can’t buy you gifts and not the others. What he also wanted to say--but would not admit it: I can’t buy you gifts when you look at her like that. It’s not fair--to you--to me.
When Eugene disappeared for an entire day, and Kyle found canned food missing at the legation, he forced Eugene to run laps in full gear. He complained about his favorite food disappearing. What he wanted to say: I’m glad you went somewhere with her. What he wanted to say: You went somewhere with her, but not with me.
The following year, once he and Eugene parted ways, once he was transferred to Japan and Eugene came to visit him, and he saw the ring--the thin gold and silver bands, intertwined, sitting on Eugene’s left ring finger--when Eugene asked him if he would congratulate him, Kyle wanted to say: Do you doubt that I would congratulate you? That I would be happy for you? All I ever wanted was your happiness. What he wanted to say: I will miss you, for the rest of my life.