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Youngkyun begins the month of August with resolve. He will not go back to Taeyang again, not even when the snow swirls outside his window. He will break this cycle that all their friends call ‘toxic,’ even though it hurts no one, including themselves. The one where they’re together through the cold months and apart for the warm ones. Then, the chill of the first snowfall enters the air, brushing a rosy blush onto Youngkyun’s cheeks, and he ends up at Taeyang’s door with a bottle of his favorite wine in his hand and a carefree smile on his face.
To his credit, Taeyang never asks where he’s been or hesitates to let him in. They fall into easy conversation over their wine glasses and even easier kisses over the sofa cover Youngkyun bought last winter. When Taeyang holds him close later that night, skin to skin, Youngkyun feels warmth seeping into his soul.
They go to the aquarium one day on a whim, watching the fish float by. The weather is getting warmer, warm enough to stand outside without a coat, watching the otters play. Youngkyun’s been awfully quiet the past few days and Taeyang can feel the glacial shift begin. When they watch the jellyfish, Youngkyun speaks.
“We’re jellyfish.”
Taeyang turns to face him, but he keeps his eyes resolutely fixed on the glowing beings drifting through the tank in an aesthetic cycle due to the artificial current. “Is that a bad thing?” He doesn’t think about their cycle, not anymore. He could leave at any time, could slam the door in Youngkyun’s face and seek out something more stable. He never does, never really wants anything to change.
“No, but we’re not swimming.”
“We don’t need to swim. Floating is fine.” Taeyang drapes himself lightly over Youngkyun’s shoulders, never holding him too tightly. Youngkyun doesn’t like enclosed spaces, not even in a lover’s arms. “Do you want to swim?” Taeyang’s intonation is clear. He’ll follow Youngkyun’s lead like he always does in their relationship. It’s on when Youngkyun comes back. It’s off when Youngkyun leaves.
“Don’t you think we should? What if this is all we ever have?” Youngkyun’s doubt is coming from the voices of his friends, from his own sense of fairness, how the world ought to be. This cycle, the yearning of his heart to run at the first spring flower, it causes thorns to grow around him, a futile attempt at self-preservation. At least, that’s what his last therapist said. His last therapist then published a successful book of poetry and decided to quit therapy. Come to think of it, his last therapist might have been shit.
Taeyang’s voice brings him back to reality like waves washing him onto the soft sandy shore. “Then, I’ll have a full life and you will too. We don’t need to be constantly together, tied in constant symbiosis like a clownfish and an anemone. I have an apartment to call home. I don’t need you to be that for me. We can be free to float, to drift, to enjoy when we’re in the same part of the sea.”
Youngkyun doesn’t want to believe him, but he does. Sincerity is Taeyang’s specialty. At his core, he will always say what he wants and he has never said that he needs Youngkyun to stay, so Youngkyun doesn’t.
Another spring passes and another summer. Youngkyun stops feeling guilty, swept up in the magical light of the sunshine and all the creative energy it brings. He writes poetry, songs, and essays. They ramble like the river he lays beside and the heat of the days takes away the need for the heat of another body beside him, unless someone joins him one night at a time, like a firework bursting brilliantly in the night sky. His friends quiet down about his relationship status. Peace settles over him until the chill creeps into the air once again.
Taeyang welcomes him and his bottle of wine into his arms. During post-sex snuggles, he says something that changes Youngkyun’s life forever. “I had a meeting the other day. The board is impressed with my work. They want to send me abroad and I think I want to go.” The words are matter-of-fact, nothing accusatory or hostile in them. His future is his own and it will no longer be dictated by Youngkyun, by their cycle together.
He continues, “Remember the jellyfish? I read that they generally float until there are currents to move them faster in another direction. This is where my current is going.” There isn’t an invitation. Youngkyun doesn’t want one and Taeyang knows that. But that doesn’t stop Youngkyun from wanting to keep floating like this forever.
“You should go.” Youngkyun adds a smile that he prays looks sincere. “I’ll be fine.”
Taeyang smiles back, his sunshine personality lighting up his face. Why couldn’t Youngkyun have basked in it at all times of the year? There is a shadow of regret cast over his mind. “I know you will. I can still let you know when I get back. We can pick up where we left off if we’re still floating.”
Youngkyun thinks to himself that it’s only fair that things end like this. Taeyang lets him go every spring. The least Youngkyun can do is to return the favor.
Two weeks later, Youngkyun stands in the aquarium once more. On a whim, he bought a ticket, walking past the sharks and rays and coral reefs. There’s only one exhibit on his mind. Soon, he rounds a corner and finds the cylindrical tank he wants: the jellyfish. Standing alone this time, he watches the illuminated creatures floating with their tentacles pulsing in the artificial current. It’s different without the warmth of Taeyang behind him, beside him, around him. Life without Taeyang is chilly, but Youngkyun pursues the thought further. Is it the familiarity he misses, or did Taeyang add something to his life that he can’t live without?
For the first time in his life, Youngkyun decides to swim.