Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Manila
Kyungmin stowed all his things in the back of the taxi. His grey suitcase, a brown hand-carry knapsack with some of his coats and trinkets—everything he brought home from Korea was all behind him. All that he had on the backseat, on this taxi that took all of its time lagging along Edsa highway, was the familiar gray recorder in his pocket.
He had one hand on its surface, feeling the holes on the device speaker and the grooves on its underside, as if trying to smooth it out with his thumb. Kyungmin kept fidgeting with the removable battery casing, taking it off and putting it back again. He tried his best to focus on the highway lights on the windshield and the sound of the radio newsflash for the last Saturday of November.
Male announcer says 28 days before Christmas. Faint smell of strawberry from car perfume. Overtaking truck on right side. Kyungmin took his hands out and rubbed them, his fingers cold and numb. The cab driver, noticing this, turned the AC down. Kyungmin did his best to smile at the driver through the rearview mirror.
Perhaps, it was this small act of kindness that made Kyungmin tip generously when he arrived at the hotel. Or perhaps, it was the itching feeling of coming home. Like the words in his mind were pushing his legs out of the cab and onto the concrete.
His suitcase filled the silent street with the sound of its wheels rolling up the door, his keys waking this quiet corner of Manila. To Kyungmin, the sound of the doorknob clicking was louder than he remembered.
Before he could push the door open, he paused, looking down at the carpet, filled with wood chippings and dust from all the renovation work.
What did he imagine would greet him when he opened the door? The cold silence of the white tiles, or an unfamiliar layout to the refurbished lobby? The aloe vera plant dying, forgotten on the receptionist desk, the framed photo of Manila on the pale pink wall?
Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t Hanjin, sitting on Kyunmin’s favorite chair, hands clutched, looking up from an unlit room in the dead of the night. It definitely wasn’t Hanjin getting up, his body visibly shaking, tears in his eyes, a small but resolved smile on his lips. It certainly wasn’t Hanjin rising, his knees wobbly, lifting his arms, rushing, to meet him with an embrace. Their contact felt like all the I missed yous of the world combined into one powerful force, covering Kyungmin now with a tight embrace.
“I knew it,” Hanjin said, his voice muffled on Kyungmin’s shirt, his fingers running along his collar. “I knew it, I knew it…” Hanjin repeated, his voice breaking against Kyungmin’s long-sleeved shirt. “I knew it, Kyungmin,” Hanjin’s other hand ran down Kyungmin’s spine, as if feeling the particles in his body present, existing.
Kyungmin whispered against Hanjin’s hair, meeting the unmistakable lavender in his pale blue shirt. “I’m sorry,” Kyungmin spoke, inaudible to anyone else but Hanjin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Kyungmin had thrown all his rehearsed lines off the door, leaving it perhaps in the cab. Here, in the silence of this familiar but changed reception room, all Kyungmin could do was apologize. “I’m sorry, Hanjin. I’m so sorry.”
He felt the tears fall down his cheeks too, forming streams down to his chin, falling on Hanjin’s shirt. He closed his eyes and tightened his embrace on Hanjin. All Hanjin could mutter now was the certainty that Kyungmin would come home because in fact, he was. He was home, after all. I knew it. I knew it.
Hanjin pulled back, and Kyungmin could see the redness in his eyes, the moistness reflecting the moonlight off the open window to their side. Hanjin’s hands fell on Kyungmin’s shoulders, willing himself to speak. But even with all the strength he could muster, all he could do was fall back again to Kyungmin’s chest.
Kyungmin’s hand ran against Hanjin’s hair, brushing it in the way that he knew would comfort his lover. “I’m sorry, Hanjin,” Kyungmin whispered again. “I’m sorry I even left.”
Hanjin tilted his head down, looking Kyungmin dead in the eyes. He shook his head, swallowed some of his emotions back, clearing his throat. “I knew you’d come back, Minnie,” Hanjin started. “You wouldn’t have come home if… if you didn’t love me.”
Kyungmin’s gaze on Hanjin softened, fluttering at his trust. “Thank you for believing in me, Jinnie.” Kyungmin brushed another loose strand of hair on Hanjin’s forehead. “I won’t… I won’t hurt you ever again, my princess.”
Hanjin closed his eyes, more tears falling on his cheek, his head falling too on Kyungmin’s chest. Kyungmin held him tighter this time, not wanting to let him go. For a minute, they stayed like this, Kyungmin swaying side to side, carrying Hanjin in his arms.
And suddenly, he could feel Hanjin shifting under him, a mix of chuckling and whining. Kyungmin couldn’t help but release the tension in his body too, pulling back to see Hanjin laughing now. Kyungmin wiped a tear off Hanjin’s cheek and smiled at him—that warm and comforting smile that made the room light up. The smile that made Hanjin fall in love with him in the first place.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, Jinnie.”
Shadows danced around the wall as Kyungmin lifted his hand every so often to brush Hanjin’s hair. From above the bed, Kyungmin’s lamp, a gift Kyungmin gave Hanjin once, bathed the room in a warm orange glow, thawing the unease in Hanjin’s heart. Kyungmin placed his recorder beside the lamp, catching the cozy hue of the light.
Hanjin took Kyungmin’s other hand and wrapped it around his waist, running his fingers along Kyungmin’s wrist. Hanjin shifted his head softly to lay on Kyungmin’s chest, planting Kyungmin steadily in place.
In the distance, they could see the leaves of the narra tree, its yellow flowers swept off by the typhoon months, but sure to blossom again in its season. Maybe around February , Hanjin told Kyungmin.
There was a feeling of wetness on Hanjin’s cheeks, like the dampness of cement after a storm had just gone by. The rains had come and passed, but there were puddles still, here and there.
“You’re not leaving again, are you?” Hanjin whispered, brushing his hand on Kyungmin’s index finger.
Kyungmin lifted his hand, the shadow following with his movement. He cupped Hanjin’s cheek and thumbed it softly. Kyungmin shook his head and whispered it to his little spoon. “No. No, I won’t.”
Hanjin nodded, his gaze softening on the tree outside. A gust of wind came in just then, lifting the sheer yellow curtains, flapping the white trim on the bottom. Below it, Kyungmin’s gray suitcase stood with its handle up. Beside it, his brown knapsack with trinkets from Korea.
“Did Dohoon tell you?” Kyungmin remembered, his voice cutting through the moment, his hand falling softly on Hanjin’s shoulder.
He couldn’t see it, but Hanjin’s eyebrows furrowed. Hanjin pulled away slightly and looked at Kyungmin with confusion.
Hanjin tried to recall if Dohoon had said anything in the last week they were together. Granted, for maybe half of that week, Hanjin was closing his doors to Dohoon. But for the other half, that emotionally draining and painful half, when Hanjin had spent evenings with Dohoon on the rooftop, in Binondo nor in his room, Dohoon hadn’t told him anything. All that Dohoon did was steady Hanjin long enough for him to decide to finally give Kyungmin a call.
Kyungmin could see by the confusion in Hanjin’s eyes that Dohoon hadn’t actually told him anything. He sighed, his breath falling on Hanjin’s ear.
“Jinnie,” Kyungmin cleared his throat and began. “Dohoon picked up the hotel phone when you weren’t answering. I wanted him to tell you that I love you,” Kyungmin explained tenderly, looking straight into Hanjin’s eyes, leaning forward to emphasize his point. “And that I don’t love anyone else but you.”
He leaned in closer, his lips meeting Hanjin’s forehead, leaving a lingering kiss on his skin. A memory forms like a cloud on Kyungmin’s mind, taking shape slowly. He remembers what Jihoon told him in his dorm when Kyungmin was in Korea, how Hanjin had once dated Dohoon. But seeing the serenity of the moment, he tucked Dohoon and Hanjin’s history at the back of his mind.
He watched as Hanjin closed his eyes, as if sealing the assurances shut into himself. He knew that Hanjin let the words resonate in his mind, echoing to his heart and soul. He took a deep breath, letting Kyungmin’s words seep into his body.
After a moment, when Hanjin opened his eyes again, Kyungmin continued. “Maybe God had wanted me to tell you myself,” he whispered, turning his gaze to the narra tree.
Hanjin turned to the window too, his shadow shifting softly along with him. He returned his hand to Kyungmin’s wrist, his thumb lingering on his pulse. If Hanjin steadied himself enough, he could feel the heart beating inside Kyungmin.
“Can I tell you what happened, Jinnie?” Kyungmin asked, his tone unsure. He waited for a while as Hanjin considered it in the silence. After three more breaths, Hanjin nodded.
“There was this weird lecturer in the library I met through Jihoon. He was a bit strange, he said that if we touched fingertips, we could transfer… brainpower, I think is what he called it,” Kyungmin began, trying to make himself sound more believable. “I know it sounds ridiculous, Jinnie, but I swear, he’s a bit strange.”
Kyungmin couldn’t feel anything from Hanjin for a while, just his own heartbeat going faster, clearly nervous with his explanation. He was listening for the smallest signs that Hanjin was taking in his story well.
“And I think he was just trying to get close to me, for some reason,” Kyungmin continued. “Like when Jihoon saw us on the dorm bed, I—”
Kyungmin felt Hanjin’s body stiffen at the sound of those words, and immediately continued his explanation. “But nothing happened between us, Jinnie. Nothing. I never wanna see him, ever again.”
The seconds pass without any reaction from Hanjin, just the sound of Kyungmin’s own voice resonating in his head. The echo made Kyungmin question whether he had told his story the proper way, or if there were things he could have worded better.
For a while, he thought his words bounced off Hanjin. But suddenly, on the side of Kyungmin’s thumb, he suddenly felt tears forming out of Hanjin, his breath breaking unevenly. Kyungmin shifted his position to get a good look at Hanjin, who hid his face behind his palms and wiped his tears with his wrists.
“Jinnie, what’s… what’s wrong?”
There was no response from Hanjin for a while but more muffled sobs. He was trying to form words but nothing was coming out, just his cries filling the room with pain. The tears came out, warm and steady, staining Hanjin’s blue shirt.
“Minnie, I…” Hanjin began in between sobs. “I just want to know you’re being honest.”
Kyungmin lifted Hanjin’s chin, brushing his hair and looking at his eyes. “Hanjin, I could never lie to you.” Kyungmin paused, letting the words drift toward Hanjin. “I love you, Hanjin, and there’s no one else I love more than you.”
Another gust of wind came through, flapping the curtain once again, but Hanjin was focused on Kyungmin’s eyes. He listened to the tone of his words, the stress, the pronunciation of his assurance. He felt it course through his throat, his heart, to his fingertips. He felt it in the kiss that Kyungmin planted on his forehead just now. I love you, Hanjin, and there’s no one else I love more than you.
Hanjin placed his head on Kyungmin’s chest, his body turned a little to face him. Kyungmin placed his forehead against Hanjin’s, planting a soft kiss on his skin. His other hand lifted to brush Hanjin’s hair, the shadows following them silently.
Kyungmin waited in the quiet for Hanjin to speak—to ask, to say more. But the minutes passed away noiselessly, just Hanjin’s breathing starting to even out. He pulled away after a while, looking at Hanjin and offering a small smile. Hanjin smiled a little too, feeling Kyungmin’s thumb brushing his cheek.
“Minnie, I’m sorry I made you worry. This would have been simpler had I just picked up the phone,” Hanjin started, his gaze falling onto Kyungmin’s chin.
Kyungmin shook his head softly, leaning in closer to Hanjin. “Don’t apologize, Jinnie. I… I just want to know, where did you go? Jihoon’s mom told me you weren’t around when I was calling,” Kyungmin’s eyebrows furrowed, his concern clear on his face.
Hanjin thought about how to answer the question. The memories of the last few days panned out in front of him. What would he tell Kyungmin? How he broke down in the receptionist area? How he ran away without a word to anyone?
“You… you don’t have to answer right now, Jinnie, I’m sorry I even—”
“No, it’s alright, I just—” Hanjin cut through, his eyes meeting Kyungmin for a while. “I just went where… I know it sounds weird… I just went where my feet took me. I think I was by Binondo Church for the day.”
Hanjin watched the worry form on Kyungmin’s face. “But nothing wrong happened, I promise, Minnie, I’m alright,” Hanjin said.
“Oh God, you did run away,” Kyungmin shook his head, lifting Hanjin’s head to bring his forehead closer to him. He planted another kiss on Hanjin’s head. “Thank God you came back, I was so worried,” Kyungmin whispered into Hanjin’s forehead, closing his eyes.
“Sorry, Minnie,” Hanjin brought his hand to Kyungmin’s back, tracing the creases of his long-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned halfway through. His hand dug under the undershirt, touching Kyungmin’s skin underneath. “Sorry I made you worry.”
Kyungmin shook his head again, opening his eyes to look at Hanjin. “We’re here now,” he muttered. Hanjin nodded, his lips moving without speaking. We’re here now.
The light was turned off now, just the moonlight outside casting a soft glow on their faces. Despite the dimness, Hanjin’s milky skin appeared even brighter from where Kyungmin was, drawing Kyungmin in even more.
“How did the story go?” Hanjin asked, unsure about himself. “I mean, what happens next?”
“I’m going to the office tomorrow. Report that I’m home, submit the story, just some boring stuff,” Kyungmin chuckled.
But Hanjin’s tone was serious, his gaze falling again on Kyungmin’s neck. Both their eyes were half-lidded, but Kyungmin could tell Hanjin was more pensive than tired.
“What’s wrong, Jinnie? Hm?” Kyungmin cupped Hanjin’s cheek.
“I just…” Hanjin’s eyes darted from left to right, avoiding Kyungmin’s eyes. “I just hoped I could spend the day with you tomorrow.”
Kyungmin felt a warmth surge inside him, an excitement that made him feel cozy inside. But then, it got doused by the fact that he needed to report to work and fulfill his duties still. There was a sudden chill too, remembering that he would be presenting his story to his editors for the first time tomorrow.
But planting his palm firmly on Hanjin’s cheek, he focused on his presence, the smooth skin on the back of his ear. He leaned in closer, planted a kiss on Hanjin’s nose, and shifted his position to meet Hanjin’s averted gaze.
“Princess, I’ll just submit the story tomorrow. Then, I’ll file a leave for a day, go home, and I’ll be here the next day. Let’s plan and make that a good day, yeah?” Kyungmin nodded his head while explaining this, listing down the points for Hanjin.
Hanjin’s gaze softened on Kyungmin, his eyelids dropping steadily, more from the steady comfort of his presence than anything else.
It was almost impossible for Kyungmin to get up from the bed, especially when Hanjin looked so peaceful beside him. It wasn’t just that he was tired from his flight, but that he didn’t want to ruin this moment with his lover. For the first time in a week, he was sleeping beside him.
He pulled away for a while to look at Hanjin asleep, wrapped up in the white sheets comfortably despite the warmth of the morning sun. His eyelashes caught the glow of the sun as his eyelids fluttered deep in his sleep. A soft shadow blanketed his face, highlighting his pale cheeks. He brushed off Hanjin’s hair, planting a kiss on his forehead. Hanjin instinctively tightened his hold on Kyungmin’s waist, looking for him even in his dreams. Just five more minutes, Kyungmin told himself.
When the time was nigh, Kyungmin whispered I love yous to Hanjin, who was loosening his arm around Kyungmin. He kissed Hanjin one more time before getting up, finally. He got dressed as quietly as he could, silently unpacking his things.
From his knapsack, he took out a small bag full of trinkets for his coworkers and bosses. He also fished out some gifts Jihoon had asked him to bring for his family, which was perfect as he could hear Jihoon’s mom outside in the kitchen.
When he was finished getting dressed, he slung his bag across his chest and took out a brown cardigan he left in Hanjin’s closet, hanging it on his arm. He took one last look at Hanjin before leaving, drawing close to give one more kiss on his forehead. He shut the door behind him gently.
Outside, he summoned a deep breath to start the day. He caught the smell of garlic rice, making his stomach grumble as he made his way to the reception area. There, he heard shuffling in the kitchen, realizing that Jihoon’s mom must be up early cooking breakfast. He smiled to himself, already imagining her reaction to Jihoon’s little presents.
She was in the kitchen, her back turned to him, attuned to her cooking on the stove. It was a comforting sight to see her in her element. And yet, there was a sore detail that made Kyungmin uneasy. She had her other son with him.
Dohoon was already on the table, a large plate with a pile of garlic rice by his side of the table. Just Dohoon’s profile drew irritation from Kyungmin, even though he hadn’t even noticed Kyungmin yet. He couldn’t help but remember what Jihoon had told him about his brother—that Dohoon and Hanjin had some history together, a history that Kyungmin couldn’t get out of his mind every time he looked at Dohoon, even now, when he was peacefully digging at his first meal of the day.
“Kyungmin, welcome home!” Dohoon’s mom said, dropping the pan she was just cleaning on the sink and patting her hands on her apron. She beckoned for Kyungmin to come, her arms raised. “Come here!”
Kyungmin hesitated, but decided he couldn’t leave her hanging. He approached her, Dohoon in his periphery, and gave her a tight hug. He could see the garlic peelings off in a corner, and the opened window by the stove.
“Hello, ma’am,” Kyungmin muttered, smelling the baby powder in her shirt. “How’s the baby doing?”
“Doing good, doing good,” she replied, her tone excited. “We’re moving some of our stuff down the basement. But Dohoon’s been taking good care of him, even while reviewing for the exam and all,” she explained, pointing to Dohoon’s back with her lips.
Dohoon turned slightly to the two of them, just enough to catch Kyungmin’s stare. Kyungmin bated his breath, thought about what he wanted to say, but shut his lips instead. Dohoon returned to his meal without a word.
He flashed the white plastic bag of trinkets and handed it to her with two hands. “Ma’am, Jihoon wanted to give you this,” he said, his head bowing slowly as she took the bag.
He lifted to see her reaction, buzzing over the presents. “Wow, thanks Kyungmin!” She inspected the contents and saw that there were keychains and magnets in the bag that had Korean flags all over them. Kyungmin also saw earlier that there was a box inside with a snow globe of Seoul Tower. “Oh, I hope this wasn’t too much trouble, Kyungmin.”
“No worries, ma’am,” Kyungmin smiled softly, bowing his head again. Some part of him felt proud of having given her a present from Korea and wanted Dohoon to hear all her praises. Instead, Dohoon was lurching over the plate, and Kyungmin could see over Dohoon’s shoulder a few creased index cards spread on the table filled with formulas that looked like a foreign language to him.
“Are you going to work? Is Hanjin still asleep?” she asked, placing the bag on the counter.
“Yes, ma’am. Hugged me tight all night,” Kyungmin chided, making sure he was enunciating the words properly. “Missed me a lot, it seems.”
She chuckled softly. “I’m sure,” she paused, watching Kyungmin look over to the table. “Well, you should eat before you go.”
Kyungmin shook his head softly, watching Dohoon flip to the other side of an index card. “Thank you, ma’am. I think I’ll get breakfast on the way.”
Dohoon was already washing the dishes when Hanjin ate what was left of the garlic rice. When the baby started crying from the room, Dohoon’s mom left the two of them in the kitchen.
From over his shoulder, Dohoon caught a glimpse of Hanjin finishing his breakfast, sitting on a chair that faced the sink. His hand working autopilot on the dishes, he watched as Hanjin cleared his plate of the garlic rice, feeling guilty that Dohoon didn’t leave much for him.
When Hanjin caught Dohoon staring, Hanjin looked up at him too. Dohoon smiled softly and Hanjin shook his head. They chuckled.
Hanjin got up and brought his plate over to the sink, when suddenly, the phone rang from the reception. Without words, Dohoon took Hanjin’s plate and utensils, pointing with his lips to the phone. Hanjin left the kitchen and headed to the reception to answer the call.
Hanjin glanced at the caller ID and saw Jihoon’s name flashing on the yellow screen. He took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.
“Hey, Dohoon,” Jihoon spoke, his voice a little garbled from the shaky reception. “Has Kyungmin arrived?”
Hanjin cleared his throat. “I can answer that for you,” he whispered, giggling a little. “Yes, he’s here.”
A brief pause from the other end as Jihoon figured out who was speaking. “Jinnie? Oh, Jinnie! Hello! It’s great to hear your voice again!”
Hanjin smiled a little at the open window by the reception room, the sunlight drawing slits on the white tiles on the floor.
“I’m at the library now, just wanted to know if Kyungmin’s home. Glad to know he has.” Throughout the time that Hanjin and Jihoon had worked together in the hotel, even before Jihoon had moved with Youngjae to Korea, Hanjin had known his friend long enough to know when he meant to say something more with his words. They were chosen family, after all. Jihoon might be reassured that Kyungmin is home, but even more relieved that Hanjin took Kyungmin back home to him.
“Listen, Jinnie,” Jihoon continued, not seeming to waste a second. “It’s all been a misunderstanding. I just misjudged him and thought he was doing something stupid.”
Hanjin let Jihoon continue, listening intently to his words over the static of the phone. “It’s not true, Jinnie. And I’m sorry, I was just acting out of concern for you. But he loves you, he really does.”
Jihoon couldn’t see it but Hanjin’s shoulders dropped just then, closing his eyes as a wave of calm drew from his head down to his feet, steadying him to the ground.
He wriggled his fingers, feeling the new blood course through them. When he opened his eyes, his gaze landed on the aloe vera plant, a small but healthy offshoot digging its way out of the dirt.
“Jinnie, still there?”
“Yeah, Ji, yeah… I…” Hanjin started, his voice feeling dry again. He cleared his throat once more and continued. “Thanks, Ji.”
Jihoon apologized again, but Hanjin was more focused on the new air that coursed through his lungs, as if a new, cooler wind had come in from the window just now.
“I…” Hanjin continued, watching the seconds run on the hotel phone screen. “I wanted to say sorry too, Ji. For all those… for all those words I said that night.”
Jihoon paused but resumed steadily, as if already expecting Hanjin would apologize. “It’s alright, Jinnie. I understand, that’s… of course it would hurt,” he said. “I just wanna know… you and Dohoon, is that true?”
Hanjin looked to his side to see Dohoon stowing off a bowl on the dishrack. He strode away to the reception chair across the room, leaning on the wall below the framed image of Manila. He crossed his arms, watching Dohoon away from him, still busy with his work.
“Yeah, it’s true, Ji. We… it was when he came here, a year ago, remember? I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was just… I couldn’t…”
“It’s alright, Jinnie. Thanks for opening up to me.” A moment of silence hung between them as Hanjin felt even lighter hearing Jihoon’s assurance. Hanjin picked up on some scuffling behind Jihoon, and his voice spoke on the phone again.
“I have to go, Jinnie. Youngjae’s here for lunch. I’m glad to hear from you. Take care of yourself.”
Hanjin swallowed, a smile forming on his lips. “I… I miss you, Ji,” Hanjin continued, his clutch on the phone going tighter. “So much… I hope Youngjae takes care of the princess of Korea.”
Jihoon chuckled. “Jinnie, I miss you too. I miss you a lot,” Hanjin felt tears well up inside him as he heard the sincerity in Jihoon’s voice.
Then, Jihoon’s voice lightened. “Dating writers has its moments, huh?”
It was the time of day when the hotel was at its most silent. The baby was sleeping well in the room along with his mother, and Dohoon was probably in his room too, busy reviewing for his upcoming licensure exams. At this time too, Hanjin would be listening to the radio or finding a chore he needed to do.
It was even quieter that there were no guests in the hotel, and there was less construction work to do. It was only in November when Jihoon’s uncle called him to let him know that he was planning on renovating the hotel, inviting him to live in Korea while there were no guests for Jihoon to cater to. But in just a few weeks, the stairs had been completed, allowing direct access to the second floor.
Dohoon, designated to be the construction work foreman while reviewing for the engineering exams, was the one coordinating with his uncle in Korea. He told Hanjin that his uncle would reopen the hotel in January, two months away from now.
Bored and having nothing to do for the afternoon, Hanjin stretched out of bed, turned off his radio and left his room. There, he saw Dohoon’s back heading to the second floor, turning his head back after hearing Hanjin shut the door.
Their eyes meet and they chuckle together. Dohoon’s gaze drops to the floor.
“I know where you’re going,” Hanjin said, half-laughing.
The second floor has changed a lot since the last time Hanjin and Dohoon were here. For one, it was nighttime, and they couldn’t see anything except for the tall skyscrapers in the distance and the pale figure of the moon across from them. It was bare and wide open, and the air of Manila wrapped around them freely.
But now, there were columns all around the floor, their heads exposing the steel structures inside. There were wood frames above them, forming what would soon be the ceiling of the second floor. Dohoon had to guide Hanjin as they walked across the construction work, pointing out the progress of the construction that Dohoon had been watching over. A lot has changed here. Yeah, I know. See there, that’s the um… pipe for the bathroom. Mhm. Lights go here, AC goes there. Pink? Yeah, pink would be good.
They made their way to the same spot they were just a few days ago. But now, there were two columns that flanked them, reaching a few feet above Dohoon, the taller of the two. Dohoon swiped the dust off a pile of hollow blocks and dusted it off his fingers before Hanjin took the spot. Dohoon settled beside him.
Manila looks great from here. When you’re not part of the humid, stressful and hot hellscape that is Manila in the afternoon, it actually looks great. There was still some wind coming from the right side, carrying the smell of smoke and the sound of angry jeepneys. But the new posts and half-made walls made the scene more intimate.
“I’m nervous as hell,” Dohoon said, swiping through his index cards. “The exam’s tomorrow. I feel like I’ve done everything I could to prepare. I’m so nervous. I keep asking God for signs if I will pass or not,” Dohoon laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. Dohoon shook his head, fixing his gaze on the office tower ahead of them. “...I can’t fail.”
Hanjin nodded, and Dohoon’s gaze lingered on an index card with an underlined formula. He took a quick glance at the page as if it were a formula he hadn’t seen before or forgot to memorize. Seeing Hanjin watch him, he quickly flipped the index card and put it beside him, embarrassed.
“You’ve… you’ve been busy too, I’m sure. Kyungmin and all.”
Hanjin chuckled. “Yeah, we’re working it out.” He looked down on his hands and massaged his knuckles. He took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on a cloud passing by. He stared at it for a while, letting his nerves calm with the pale blue of the sky.
He took another deep breath and whispered. “I just… I just want to be happy, Dohoon.”
Dohoon looks at Hanjin’s profile, the sun catching on the planes of his face. His eyebrows glinted when he blinked, and his hair caught the sunlight that was just coming out of a cirrus cloud. His gaze dropped to Hanjin’s creased white shirt, and to his fidgeting fingers.
A smile forms on Dohoon’s face as he remembers something from what felt like ages ago. He lets the thought simmer in his mind, imagining how Hanjin might react when he says it, finally.
“Hanjin, I need to tell you something.” Dohoon began, making sure his tone was firm and assuring. “When things got messy, he called me to tell you something since you weren’t picking up.”
Hanjin looked in Dohoon’s direction, and Dohoon lifted his stare to meet his eyes. Hanjin didn’t look as surprised as Dohoon imagined. “Yeah? What did he ask you to say?”
Dohoon smiled. “He loves you, Hanjin. He loves you, and no one else.”
A small curve formed on Hanjin’s lips, beaming softly as the sunlight came stronger. Hanjin didn’t remove his stare, nodding only as Dohoon spoke Kyungmin’s words.
After a moment of silence, their eyes not moving, Hanjin responded, finally. “I love him too, Dohoon.”
They chuckled together, as their eyes both dropped to the bare cement floor beneath them. “Well,” Dohoon said, drawing circles on the cement. “We can always meet here, upstairs.” He tapped the floor, some dust gathering on his fingertips. He looked up again to Hanjin, who was watching his hands dance on the surface.
“This is our secret meeting place,” Hanjin chuckled.
Kyungmin placed a small bag of dumplings on the table for Hanjin, but Hanjin was nowhere to be seen in the room. Just silence. All Kyungmin could feel was how tense and rigid his body was after a particularly long and emotional day at work.
He placed his leather bag on the bed, a little stronger than he intended. The bag made a dent on the mattress, bouncing a little. He sighed deeply, lying down on the bed with his cardigan still on. He looked outside and saw the orange light from the window.
He massaged his temple as he recalled what his editor had told him earlier. They were welcoming, congratulating him about his safe travel. But about the story, they were unreadable. They weren’t gushing over it as Kyungmin had hoped. They weren’t giving it the attention that Kyungmin thought the effort he put forth would merit. He had asked one of his editors for comment and he said that he felt that the story was too human, and the gritty details were lacking.
He also emailed his funders the first draft of the story, and they were a little more joyous over it. But they did say that the story was praising Korea too much, and not being honest with the pitfalls of the country’s waste management. Kyungmin had been holding off a strongly worded reply explaining how there really was nothing to critique in their garbage system.
There was nothing more satisfying than filing that sick leave at the end of the work day. Maybe he truly was sick, or about to be.
Even with the earphones blaring The Fray from his iPod, he couldn’t quiet his mind in the MRT. He remembered the endless nights in Seoul that he would devote to writing the story, foregoing his own exploration of the city, or his own distraught feelings over Hanjin. He recalled the frustration of communicating with his sources, listening to their voices again and again on the recorder. All that, for this?
It was all in Kyungmin’s mind as he watched the sky slowly dim outside the window. Deciding it was too much for him right now, he turned to his side, covering his head with the blanket.
Slowly, as the minutes passed by, Kyungmin lost himself in his thoughts. The blanket dampened, making the smell of lavender rise from the fabric. Kyungmin can’t be alone right now.
He got up, taking off his cardigan and placing it somewhere on the mattress, not bothering to fold it or tuck it away neatly. He massaged his temples again, shut the door behind him and headed to the basement, where Hanjin must be.
When he passed by the room where Jihoon’s mom and her baby stayed, it was Dohoon’s voice he could hear. He clenched his fists at the sound of Dohoon cooing his brother, speaking baby talk and making the child laugh. He walked with wide steps towards the basement stairs.
When he got there, Hanjin was facing the boxes in the basement, a stack of white sheets beside him. He turned around, a small glow of the early evening illuminating his figure.
“Hi, dear,” Hanjin turned to face Kyungmin, his arms raised to meet him with a hug. “Come here, I’ve missed you!”
Kyungmin walked over to Hanjin, rushing, falling onto him. Hanjin wrapped his arms tightly around him, almost supporting his weight. Kyungmin’s knees were buckling.
“Oh, what’s wrong, Kyungmin?” Hanjin’s hand pressed down Kyungmin’s back.
“They hated it, Jinnie,” Kyungmin said into Hanjin’s shoulder. “They said it sounded like a travelogue. It hurts, Jinnie, it hurts.” At those words, the voice of his editor came back again. “They said… I… I’m always between not human enough and too human… It’s so hard.”
Hanjin pulled away to watch Kyungmin’s red eyes stare back. He brushed off Kyungmin’s hair and stroked his cheek. “Come on, let it out, Minnie.”
Kyungmin took another deep breath, the light getting dimmer now. Hanjin held his hand as he continued. “It hurts. I worked so hard, I… I read it over and over again. And to hear it from my boss… I feel like…” Kyungmin swallowed before a fresh tear came down his cheek. “I feel like a failure, Jinnie.”
At those words, Hanjin took him again for another embrace, running his palm up and down his back to soothe him. Hanjin steadied Kyungmin. He understood more than anyone just how important Kyungmin’s work was to him, and how he always wanted to leave a good impression with his hard work.
They stayed like this for a while. Hanjin’s own knees were drawing out a little from carrying Kyungmin like this, so he moved them closer to the boxes. The motion seemed to sober Kyungmin a little bit.
Kyungmin shook his head, leering at the stack of sheets that Hanjin was folding before he came. “It’s all because of that Shinyu guy,” he muttered suddenly, his tone laced with a subtle rage.
Kyungmin’s body stiffened and he bit the inside of his lip. “He’s messing this all up. If he had just let me focus, left me alone… All this… all this wouldn’t have happened,” Kyungmin gestured, pointing to Hanjin subtly, as if to include him in the things that Shinyu has hurt. “That damn Shinyu.”
Dohoon went unnoticed when he came downstairs to the basement. To be fair, he didn’t notice the crying earlier, and didn’t even realize there were two people downstairs until he landed on the basement floor.
It was too late for him to come back when Kyungmin turned around to face him, Hanjin’s gaze following suit. From what he knew of Kyungmin, he was a cheery guy who seemed polite and nice. Which made the image of him staring back at Dohoon with red eyes make the hairs on his forearm rise.
Dohoon immediately lifted his arms in surrender, his index cards flapping in the motion. “Just getting some diapers, but I’ll go back now.”
Dohoon stepped back slowly, his arms still raised as if he were being held at gunpoint. With Kyungmin’s stare, he pretty much was. To his surprise, Kyungmin spoke to him too, his voice low, filling the room.
“So when were you planning on telling me that you dated Hanjin, hm?” Kyungmin didn’t break his eye contact as Dohoon distanced himself. “You dated Hanjin, right? That’s why you didn't say what I wanted you to say. Because you like him still?”
At that, Dohoon froze, his hands dropping slowly to his sides. To his relief, it was Hanjin who answered.
“Minnie, that’s not true. I—”
“I did tell him,” Dohoon answered, his voice low but firm, too. “I did tell him.”
“Liar,” Kyungmin looked to Hanjin for approval. “Liar! You probably were taking advantage of the fact that I was away, huh?” Kyungmin moved forward, his left arm moving in front of Hanjin as if to protect him. His other hand shot up, a finger pointing to Dohoon. “Probably happy you had him all to yourself while I was buried in work?”
Dohoon’s body softened, resigned. His gaze moved from Kyungmin, then to Hanjin’s eyes, which were already apologizing. His stare moved to the floor, and the index cards in his hands.
“Sorry, I have to go.” Dohoon immediately turned and ran back upstairs, his steps fading away into the distance. After a while, they heard the room door upstairs open and shut again, the creaking sound announcing Dohoon’s retreat.
At that, Hanjin took Kyungmin’s still outstretched arm and brought it down, holding it with ease. “Let’s get you rested, love.”
“I’m such a mess, I’m such a mess,” Kyungmin repeated, again and again, under the orange lamp. “I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”
The shadows couldn’t capture the way that Kyungmin shuddered every time he spoke, or the rapid blinking of his eyelids as he looked down at Hanjin’s feet. From his vantage point, leaning on the wall, it was all for Hanjin to absorb. The sunshine was nowhere to be seen now. Nowhere.
Only pale evening surrounded them here, intruding on the privacy of Kyungmin’s gloom. Every now and then, the orange lamp flickered, like a candlelight flickering from afar.
“This is so terrible,” Kyungmin said, holding his chest. “Last night, I wanted to make sure that my time with you would be the best. But here I am… I’m… I’m a mess.”
Hanjin’s hands met Kyungmin’s on his knees, stopping the trembling in his fingers and warming up his cold hands. Hanjin couldn’t even look at Kyungmin right now. He needed to be the strong one now, Kyungmin needed him. But… But how? And why didn’t Hanjin care enough to find out how to comfort Kyungmin? Know the words to make him feel better? How selfish was he?
And even now, Kyungmin seemed to be picking up on Hanjin’s thoughts, himself looking up and staring at Hanjin. He smiled, as if to pick himself up from his own collapse.
“Minnie,” Hanjin tried, clearing his throat. “Let’s work through it together.” There was a small weight in Hanjin’s chest knowing he could have said better words. So he tried again. “It’s okay. I’m glad you're here now. We’re here now.”
Kyungmin chuckled at Hanjin repeating his own words to him. Hanjin tightened his hold on Kyungmin. “Right? We’re here now.”
Hanjin opened his arms wide, and Kyungmin knew what to do. He lifted his feet off the edge of the bed and scooted over to Hanjin’s arms, taking his hands and wrapping them tightly around him. Their hands stayed together on Kyungnin’s waist.
It was a new sensation, holding Kyungmin like this. Kyungmin was a bit tall, so he adjusted himself so that Hanjin’s head could rest comfortably on his shoulder. Hanjin left a kiss on Kyungmin’s right shoulder. On the wall, the two of them were one figure, a splattering of gray across pink, indivisible.
The lamp flickered again, a small spark audible from above them. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that the bulb needed replacing. They were focused on each other’s breathing, complementing each other at first, then, synchronizing fully.
Hanjin squinted to look for the narra tree outside. It was barely visible. But Hanjin closed his eyes instead, not focusing on anything else. Just the feeling of holding Kyungmin’s body like this. The smoothness of his nails and the smell of the Dove shampoo on his hair. The warmth of Kyungmin’s back meeting Hanjin’s torso, the easing of his heart.
“How did you know about Dohoon?” Hanjin asked, whispering.
“Jihoon told me, in Seoul,” Kyungmin muttered, leaning closer to Hanjin. A few more minutes passed as neither one of them wanted to break the quiet. And finally, Kyungmin spoke again, clearing his throat.
“Did you love him?” Kyungmin murmured, his lips pointing to the room on the other side of the wall.
Hanjin relaxed his strained eyes on the window, blinking slowly as another spark came off the lamp. His vision blurred on the yellow curtain. He knew the answer, certainly, but God, did it hurt him to find it. How it ached to find that answer.
“Maybe I did,” Hanjin whispered, his heartbeat picking up. He could tell how Kyungmin’s body winced just then, his fingers tightening. “Maybe I didn’t. I don’t know what it was. But it abandoned me, Minnie. It ran away. Suddenly. Is that love, still?”
There was silence, as Hanjin waited for Kyungmin’s answer. The lamp seemed to settle on a steady dim, its filament almost giving up. Their shadows now seemed indistinguishable from the wall, their figures blending with the night outside.
“I would never leave, Jinnie,” Kyungmin answered. “Never.”
And Hanjin nodded. “I would never leave you, Minnie.” Kyungmin nodded too.
The lamp was unplugged now, darkness all around the two of them. In the blackness of the room, Hanjin pondered, his thoughts loud and clear. Do bright things cast shadows in the night? His thumb caressed Kyungmin’s wrist. Do bright things disappear in the darkness?
Kyungmin stretched his hand to reach for the sling bag from his right. He unzipped it softly and took out his gray recorder.
“Jinnie, I want to show you something.” Hanjin watched as Kyungmin used his thumb to feel for the button on the recorder. It turned on, a small screen lighting up yellow. Kyungmin pressed another button and turned it upside down beside him. It was dark again.
The sound of waves danced around the room, gracing the scene with a soothing whisper. There were the sounds of birds chirping and people speaking in the background in a language Hanjin couldn't decipher, spare for the delight in their tones.
He felt Kyungmin settle back into his chest, snuggling into Hanjin. He whispered. “Close your eyes for me, Jinnie.”
He followed, and Kyungmin closed his eyes with him. The river sprawled in front of him, the buildings sharpening in his periphery like a digicam focusing. The birds made big swoops around him, dragging across the autumn air.
Despite the chill, he could feel Kyungmin’s steady warmth, smiling at him with the glow of a thousand summers. That smile thawed any doubt inside him. Whether it was coming from Seoul or from Manila, he heard Kyungmin’s voice speaking, firm and constant. “I love you, my princess.”