Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nicholas has shared every piece of him wherever he goes.

Being in his twenties, Nicholas finds that constantly moving between two places is far more exhausting than it once seemed.

Eight years old Nicholas loved that idea though, it was fun to tell his classmates that he was born in Taipei, later moved to New York, and returned to Taiwan every holiday. At the time, it made him feel unique, almost special at least, that’s what he thought at first.

Looking back, his childhood was not filled with the warmth and adventure he once imagined. Instead, it was a patchwork of moments where he felt like an outsider no matter where he stood.

In New York, his accent, his habits, the food he brought for lunch, all of it made him different. In Taipei, he wasn’t quite local enough, his Mandarin tinged with something foreign, his mannerisms slightly off. Following him, lingering in the spaces between languages, between cultures, between the places he was supposed to belong.

School is no good, but his house is not quite the most comfortable place either. Every space is filled with walls that feel too close, voices that echo too loudly, silences that stretch too long.

Nicholas was ten when he first started looking for a place that wouldn’t pierce his skin, where he could breathe without feeling like he was always bracing for something. But he never found that place, spending almost his entire life searching for the freedom and peace that no one ever promised him yet he still convinced himself he could have.

Instead, Nicholas found someone, Someone who shared so many things in common with him, yet at the same time, someone who sat in the exact opposite place from where he stood.

Finding another Asian kid in the same neighborhood felt like a midnight wish upon a shooting star, somehow granted to him in the quietest way. His first move wasn’t entirely his choice, his mother had forced him to deliver a bowl of tofu soup to the family next door.

His mind buzzed with questions the entire way there. Is it a boy or a girl? Do they come from the same land as him? Would they want to be his friend? What if Nicholas comes off as weird? The last thought made his stomach twist.

His feet stood frozen in front of the door, his hand trembling as he held the warm bowl. He barely had time to take a steady breath before the door creaked open.

A boy, probably his age. A bowl cut, neat and straight, the kind that looked like it had been trimmed with careful precision. His skin was smooth, his cheeks slightly flushed as if he had been running just moments before. But what stood out the most were his eyes, big, round, glistening with something so bright, so full of wonder, as if the universe itself had cracked open just to let this moment happen. Staring at Nicholas as if he were an angel reincarnated.

Nicholas first met Euijoo when he was ten, curious, full of adventure, yet sometimes weighed down by the creeping suspicion that this city wanted him to be otherwise.

It was a quiet kind of pressure, an invisible force that nudged him toward stillness, toward restraint, toward becoming something smaller, something more acceptable. It had always felt that way until he met Euijoo.

Thinking back, it was a little bit strange how different they are. While Nicholas was always itching to explore, always searching for the next little thrill to chase, Euijoo preferred the comfort of his bed, tucked under soft blankets, absorbed in books or watching television for hours.

Nicholas would beg for Euijoo to come outside with him, to go get ice cream in the thick heat of summer, or to run through the streets until their legs ached.

Euijoo grew up in a harmonious home, one that felt like a well-tuned melody, each note falling exactly where it was meant to be. His family spoke in gentle tones, their laughter light and effortless, their love steady and unshaken.

Nicholas wouldn’t go so far as saying there is something wrong in his family, but something about it never felt quite right. The air inside his house was heavier, the words spoken between walls often carrying meanings that lingered long after they were said. He never talked about it, not explicitly, but deep down he knew. While Euijoo’s world was perfect, or at least, that’s how it seemed to Nicholas.

Nicholas slowly began to dread going back to Taiwan for the holidays. He had made a promise to Euijoo about going on a road trip with their bicycle, or maybe because of another late-night sleepover they planned, stretched out on Nicholas rooftop, staring at the sky until their eyes burned with sleep.

Those nights felt infinite, filled with whispered dreams and quiet laughter, as if nothing beyond that moment mattered.

Five years passed and Nicholas has completely forgotten how he spent his days without Euijoo before. It was almost absurd to think there had been a time when his days didn’t revolve around the two of them, when his world wasn’t measured by the rhythm of their friendship.

Nicholas thought he would be sixteen forever, when the world seemed like a mere playground, when everything seemed simpler and easier to digest, when every fleeting moment was just him and Euijoo.

Nicholas is now twenty-two and he often thinks about how the world stopped when he was sixteen, how he hasn't been sixteen in a long time.

Last night was one of those sleepless nights, the kind where the past felt closer than the present. Where Nicholas lay in his bed, still in the same bedroom in his family house in New York, absentmindedly twisting strands of his own hair between his fingers, pretending that it was someone else’s despite hearing the laughter coming from the other room.

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to push away the thoughts that had been gnawing his insides. Nicholas is no longer ten nor sixteen. But the ache for a place to belong remains the same.

His family is going back to Taiwan for Lunar New Year, it was a tradition they never skipped. At first, his family only returned to Taiwan during long holidays, but lately they always seemed to find an excuse to go back for a few days, even outside of those breaks.

Everyone went, except for Nicholas. Whether it was for a distant relative’s birthday, a family gathering, or simply because they missed home, there was always a reason.

It wasn’t that he disliked going back to his hometown. There was no clear preference, no strong attachment pulling him in either direction. He existed somewhere in between, between two cities, two languages. He belonged to both places and yet, at the same time, neither.

It wasn’t about preference so much as it was more about practicality. The idea of boarding a plane every month, traveling back and forth between two places, was more exhausting than it was comforting. The hassle of long flights, packed airports, and disrupted routines weighed heavier than any lingering sense of nostalgia.

He has responsibilities here, work keeping him to wake up every morning, a schedule that didn’t pause just because his family decided to leave for a few days.

Nicholas stood still at a rest stop, his fingers curled around the warmth of a strawberry latte that had long since stopped steaming. He barely noticed how tight his grip was on the cup.

Outside, the wind howled past the parking lot, rattling against car windows, tugging at loose scarves and coat sleeves. He had just come from the airport, where he had watched his family disappear through the sliding glass doors, figures swallowed by the steady flow of travelers.

He still had a few more days of work left before he could leave, he had no choice but to stay behind for now, which happens a lot.

He decided to stretch his time here just a little longer, delaying his departure until the last moment. Taking the next flight out just one day before Lunar New Year, arriving late enough that he wouldn’t feel completely caught in the cycle of obligation, but just in time to make it home before he had missed it.

Nicholas sighed, he took the last sip of his strawberry latte. With a quiet breath he started walking toward the parking lot, his steps unhurried, his mind elsewhere. His head felt heavy, weighed down by an endless list of deadlines and a flood of unread emails that kept his phone buzzing non-stop in his pocket.

Nicholas regretted not bringing his laptop with him. The café where he had stopped earlier had been surprisingly comfortable, a quiet space, tucked away from the usual noise of the city. It would have been a good place to work, a change of scenery that might have helped him focus, even if just for a little while.

His own studio was fine. It was quiet, familiar, a space that was entirely his. But sometimes familiarity felt stifling. Maybe he just needed something different, a new view, a different atmosphere, something that made the weight on his shoulders feel a little less suffocating.

Maybe sitting by a café window, watching strangers pass by, or losing himself in the background hum of a place that wasn’t his own would have been enough to make things feel lighter.

Nicholas took an unexpected detour from his usual route back from the airport. Living in New York for over twenty years with a family that treated airport visits like casual outings, he was more than familiar with every major road, every turn, every shortcut.

His gaze drifted absentmindedly over the area, scanning the small convenience store, the rows of parked cars, the scattered groups of travelers stretching their legs before continuing their journeys.

Then his breath hitched. His heart pounded in his chest, as if it might break free from his ribs. His steps faltered, body frozen in place.

A man stood a few meters away.

Thick brunette hair, slightly tousled by the wind. A long brown coat draped over his frame, the hem shifting slightly as he adjusted his stance. A black suitcase rested by his side, half-hidden by his figure. His face was locked in an expression of discomfort—Nicholas assumed it was from the cold—but that wasn’t what held him captive.

Those eyes.

Round, warm, endlessly gentle.

The kind of gaze that had always softened when it met his, whether the owner of those eyes realized it or not. Eyes that had looked at him in ways he had spent years trying to forget, only to fail over and over again.

Nicholas’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to look away, to shake himself free from the weight of recognition pressing down on him. He forced his mind to drown out the whirlwind of questions flooding his head, questions he hoped—prayed—were built on nothing but a mistake.

Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe this was nothing more than a cruel trick played by his own longing, six years’ worth of buried emotions clawing their way to the surface, manifesting as the one thing he had never quite learned to let go of.

“Nicholas?”

Nicholas had always considered himself an ambitious person, someone who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. He had worked tirelessly to get to where he is now, cutting away parts of himself that he believed would only slow him down. Sacrifices were necessary. Hesitation had no place in his pursuit of success.

Despite the compromises he genuinely loved his job. There was nothing more thrilling than scouring the internet or weaving through the bustling streets of the city, searching for the perfect clothing pieces for his clients.

Being a stylist is an extension of himself. If he were to die and wake up in another life, he was certain he would choose this career all over again. His love for fashion had been with him for as long as he could remember. As a child, he had clung to his mother’s side during every shopping trip, eyes wide with curiosity as she sifted through racks of clothing.

The excitement of exploring different styles, of trying on outfits that others might consider strange, had shaped the way he saw fashion.

When he was younger, Nicholas once thought he might become a model when he grew up. He adored fashion, and he loved the way beautiful clothes looked on him, so why not? It seemed like the natural path.

As he got older, he realized that he found more joy in curating and styling outfits, he enjoyed the process of creation more than the performance of it.

Maybe one day, he would branch out into fashion design. It was a possibility he kept in the back of his mind, knowing that if he ever made that choice, his mother would never stand in his way.

But there was one other person who knew about his dreams long before his mother, before anyone else did, the one whom he poured his heart out to, who had known his dreams long before they fully formed in his own heart. Someone who knew all his dreams, or once knew everything about him.

"I think I saw one of your works."

Nicholas paused, his fingers hesitating as he peeled open the lid of a small food container filled with hotteok—from Euijoo. The warmth of the pastry seeped through the thin plastic, but it was nothing compared to the sudden heat crawling up Nicholas’s spine. His grip tightened slightly around the edges of the box as he finally responded, his voice lifting with genuine surprise, “Wait—how?”

Euijoo’s lips curled into a smile at the question, a soft chuckle followed, and in that moment, Nicholas felt his knees weaken.

"You say that as if you’re not one of the most favored ones out there," Euijoo teased, his voice light. "I could be scrolling through my explore page, looking at random photoshoots, and there you are, your name in the credits."

Nicholas let out a quiet laugh, compliments like that never failed to make his chest swell with pride, but coming from Euijoo, it felt like something more, like an accomplishment far greater than any industry recognition he had received. Yet, instead of sinking into the warmth of that moment, new thoughts began to stir inside him, unspoken questions rising like a tide.

If you knew it was me, then why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you call? Why now?

Nicholas let out a faint smile, one that barely reached his eyes. It was almost ironic, thinking like this, because deep down, in a place he rarely let himself acknowledge, he knew it would’ve been easier if he had never seen Euijoo again.

Euijoo’s old house was still there, still occupied by his aunt, who often greeted Nicholas in the mornings when he left for work. If he had really wanted to, he could have asked for Euijoo’s number a long time ago. It wouldn’t have been difficult, one simple request, and he could’ve had the chance to reach out, to bridge the years that had stretched between them.

But he never did.

And yet, that didn’t stop the questions from surfacing now, unbidden and relentless. Was Euijoo still obsessed with citrus fruits, the way he used to be? Did he still change his dream every other day, always latching onto a new fascination with childlike excitement?

Nicholas had been chasing his degree back then. Euijoo should have been doing the same, right? What major had he chosen? Had he struggled with the decision, or had it come to him as easily as everything else seemed to?

Would things have been different if Euijoo had never left? If he had stayed and gone to the same university as Nicholas?

The what-ifs stacked up, one after another, pulling him into a past he thought he had long since tucked away.

The questions burned at the tip of his tongue, demanding to be voiced, Nicholas swallowed them down. Exhaling as he shifted the conversation elsewhere. "Well then," he said, his voice steadier than he felt, "how’s it been for you out there? Does your hometown treat you well?"

Euijoo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he spoke. “Ended up at an architecture firm, not too bad, really. The pay’s good, and the projects keep me busy.” He shrugged, as if that was all there was to say. “It’s the kind of work that keeps me on my toes, but I don’t mind it.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, waiting for more, but Euijoo didn’t elaborate. Of course he wouldn’t. That was so typical of him, always brushing past anything about himself, never one to linger on his own achievements. Nicholas had half a mind to press him for details, but before he could even open his mouth, Euijoo’s phone buzzed inside of his pocket.

Euijoo glanced at the screen, his brows knitting together briefly before he let out a quiet sigh. “Give me a sec,” he murmured as he answered the call.

Nicholas watched as Euijoo turned away, his voice dropping as he spoke into the phone. Nicholas sighed as he stared at the half-eaten hotteok in his palm. It was strange, having Euijoo standing across from him again, talking as if six years hadn’t passed.

It didn’t take long before Euijoo returned, though something in his expression had shifted. “My aunt couldn’t pick me up,” he said, exhaling softly. “Something came up, so it looks like I’ll have to find a taxi.” Nicholas frowned, setting down his drink. “Hold on—where are you heading?”

Euijoo met his gaze, something knowing in his eyes. “Come on, Nicholas,” he said, voice steady, almost amused. “You already know the answer.”

Nicholas fell silent. He did know. There was only one place that came to mind, one destination that made sense.

“…Your aunt’s house,” he said slowly, the words forming carefully on his tongue. “Your old home. Our place.”

Euijoo’s lips curled into a small smile. “If you’re still living in the same spot you have been for the past twenty years, then yes. That’s exactly where I’m heading.”

Nicholas forced an awkward smile as a chilling sensation crept down his neck, he knew this ride home would forever alter the trajectory of his life.

The day Euijoo left was the day Nicholas tried to stop scattering pieces of his heart in the places he visited.

Yes, he still remembered the first time he took Euijoo to Prospect Park. Yes, he still remembered the taste of the bagels they bought in Ridgewood. Yes, Nicholas had built his life around the people he shared his heart with, and leaving pieces of them in places he went.

But the thing is, it has become part of Nicholas to give meaning to places. Nicholas had always seen the world through his heart. That was how he made sense of it. How he found meaning in it. If he were to pin every meaningful place on a map, there would be countless marks scattered across it, and most of them would be pinned in blue—to represent the other.

It was a little pathetic when he really thought about it. Because the moment he stepped back into his room tonight, he would be reaching for the same blue pin again for that rest stop, to mark yet another place that now belonged to Euijoo.

Nicholas glanced to the side, watching as the cold winter breeze from the open window brushed against Euijoo’s face. He had deliberately left the window down, letting Euijoo take in the city he had been away from for six years. There was something almost peaceful about the way Euijoo sat there, quietly observing the world outside, a world he had once known so well yet was now seeing with fresh eyes.

This was a sight Nicholas had never witnessed before in all his years living in New York, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would again after today.

A thought settled in his mind while Euijoo was here, even if just for a short while, perhaps he should make the most of it. Maybe this was a chance to create something good, to carve out memories that wouldn’t be tinged with regret. Nicholas refused to waste an opportunity like this, not after what had happened the last time Euijoo had stood on this soil.

His gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, but every so often, he stole a glance at Euijoo beside him. He watched as Euijoo lifted his phone, snapping a picture of the vast field of winter grass stretching along the roadside. A small smile played at Euijoo’s lips before he leaned back into his seat, letting out a quiet breath.

“A lot has changed since you left.”

Euijoo let out a soft chuckle, his smile carrying a trace of something unreadable, nostalgia, maybe, or amusement. “Yeah, I was just thinking about that.”

“It’s been six years.” Nicholas said it with a faint smile, the words tasting strange on his tongue. Sitting here now, looking at Euijoo, six years felt like a lifetime. And yet, at the same time, it had passed in the blink of an eye. Nothing had happened, and yet everything had changed.

Nicholas and Euijoo are now both able to feed themselves a spoonful of food without having to wait for their mother’s cooking. They are now able to walk home alone at night without gripping the strap of each other’s backpacks. They once thought growing up simply meant getting taller, but they are now able to carry responsibilities heavier than their childhood selves could have ever imagined.

And neither of them said a word about it. Time had passed, they had grown older, wiser, quicker to understand the way the world worked. They didn’t dwell on it, and no one gave them credit for it, because that was just how life went.

Euijoo stood a few centimeters taller than Nicholas now. The bowl-cut that had once been the subject of endless teasing was gone, replaced by soft, natural waves that framed his face effortlessly. Euijoo has always been kind and gentle, but that playful side of him has been subdued by a more composed tone, or maybe it’s still there within him, buried beneath the years of distance. Nicholas just hasn’t seen it, not since they were separated, not since they became strangers, and when they meet again—which is happening right at this very moment—they have to start all over. This time they’re much more mature and much more sure about themselves, and they have to rebuild this under the knowledge of what they used to be and what changed between the six years of silence.

“How does it compare to Korea?” Nicholas asked, stealing a quick glance at Euijoo before focusing back on the road. “Well, it’s different, of course.” Euijoo exhaled softly, shifting in his seat.

“Growing up here and then spending those crucial years, the ones that really shape you back home, it made me see things from two different perspectives. It wasn’t a bad thing, just… different.”

His gaze flickered toward Nicholas now, watching him drive, his expression unreadable. “Korea has always been my home,” Euijoo admitted, his voice quieter. “I’m glad that it is. And this city holds so many of my most precious memories. I don’t think I could ever see one as more important than the other.”

When it comes to memories, Nicholas’s mind can’t help but drift straight to everything he had done with Euijoo. He wonders if it’s the same for Euijoo, when he speaks about all the memories he has in New York, is Nicholas a part of them? Or is he just a small fraction of the picture? He tells himself he wouldn’t mind either way, that it wouldn’t change anything. But Nicholas would be lying if he said his heart didn’t crave more.

He lets another thought linger on the tip of his tongue, unspoken. Is it better to know or to remain in the dark? Nicholas has always been a coward when it comes to matters of the heart, too afraid of how his emotions might twist his mind, of how the answer might shape what remains between them.

The conversation between them flows effortlessly on the way back to Brooklyn Heights. Every few minutes, Euijoo exclaims at the sight of a familiar place, his voice lighting up as he points out how much has changed since the last time he saw it. He talks about the things he misses, the memories tied to each location, and each time, it ends the same way—Euijoo reminiscing, and Nicholas, without fail, right there beside him, reliving it all.

“We’re close,” Nicholas says, though from the way Euijoo’s eyes flicker with familiarity, he knows the man has already recognized the neighborhood. It makes Nicholas chuckle softly, Euijoo looks like a kid on his first trip, eyes wide with quiet excitement as he takes in everything around him. “Oh we can see the bridge from here.”

Nicholas feels his smile falter as his gaze follows where Euijoo is looking. The bridge that connects Brooklyn Bridge Park at Pier 1 to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade. It’s just a normal bridge, nothing particularly special, except for the breathtaking view of Lower Manhattan at night, which Nicholas has always loved.

“Do you still go there often?”

Silence. Nicholas doesn’t answer right away, letting the question settle between them.

He has been avoiding that bridge for years. Not when it’s the place where his remaining heart has been buried, where everything ended. Where he had once been young and naive enough to believe that love was simple, that wanting to be with Euijoo forever was enough, where he never thought to think about how much more complicated the world has seemed from Euijoo’s perspective. Nicholas exhales a quiet chuckle. “Sometimes, with my mom.”

There isn’t any sign of discomfort from Euijoo’s face, his expression remains unreadable, calm, and unaffected. Nicholas watches him carefully as he asks himself another question. Does Euijoo want him to pretend that night never happened?

He had thought that seeing Euijoo again—finally facing his childhood best friend after all these years—would bring him clarity, that it would give him the answers he’s been carrying in his chest for far too long. But now that Euijoo is here, right in front of him, Nicholas finds himself hesitating, he doesn’t want to ruin it. Maybe seeking answers isn’t as easy as he once thought. Maybe the truth isn’t something he’s ready to hear. Maybe it’s better to maintain the peace.

If Euijoo wants to pretend like nothing happened, then Nicholas will play along.

Nicholas pulled up in front of Euijoo’s aunt’s house, he could see the man turned his back briefly, saying ‘see you when you get home’ as he walked towards the stairs. Nicholas took a glance through the rearview mirror, watched him walk toward the front steps. Just as Euijoo reached the door, his aunt appeared, her face lighting up as she pulled him into a warm embrace.

Beside Euijoo’s aunt stood three other middle-aged women, ones Nicholas had seen visiting the house before. They greeted Euijoo with cheerful familiarity, their voices blending into the evening air. But what caught Nicholas’s eye was the young woman standing slightly behind them, almost blending into the shadows, her presence barely noticeable, yet Euijoo still approached her, exchanging what seemed to be a few words before he turned back toward the house.

Nicholas tore his gaze away and pressed his foot against the gas pedal, pulling away from the curb. Focusing on the road ahead, weaving through the city streets, heading toward his studio. He didn’t let himself dwell on what he had just seen, not yet. The moment he let his mind wander, he knew the questions would come, questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

It was another night of Nicholas getting lost in his studio, time slipping away unnoticed until the city outside had long settled into the dark. By the time he finally made his way home, it was deep into the night. Yet, yet his eyelids show no signs of begging for sleep, exhaustion never quite pulled at him the way it should.

His body was used to this cycle, coming home late-complaining-then proceeding to scroll through his phone until the numbers on the clock crept toward three in the morning.

After a quick shower, he grabbed his laptop and notebook before making his way up to the rooftop. The cool night air greeted him as he settled into one of the chairs, turning on some music at a low volume. His gaze drifted over the quiet neighborhood, the soft glow of streetlights painting long shadows on the pavement. It’s an activity that he would never get tired of doing over and over again, an unspoken rule he followed without fail. No matter how long or tiring the day had been, he would always end up here, letting himself unwind in the stillness of the night.

As he absentmindedly traced patterns on the edge of his notebook, the creak of a door opening caught his attention. From the house next to his, a familiar figure stepped out. Nicholas glanced over and saw Euijoo.

He had changed out of the clothes he wore earlier, now looking more casual, more at ease than he had back at the rest stop. And he wasn’t alone. The woman from before, was with him. Nicholas watched as Euijoo walked her across the street to a car that was already waiting for her.

Their interaction was brief, yet there was an ease between them that hadn’t been there during the initial greetings earlier. The car pulled away, its taillights disappearing into the distance. Euijoo turned back toward his house, his steps unhurried. As he reached his door, his gaze lifted—and met Nicholas’.

Neither of them spoke. For a brief moment, they simply looked at each other, then exchanged a small, knowing smile before Euijoo turned and disappeared inside. Nicholas lingered for a few more seconds before he turned his eyes back to the city, he found himself lost in thought once again.

It doesn’t take long for him to lose his focus again when the sound of a door opening reaches his ears once more. Nicholas looks down, and there Euijoo is, again, now with a blue hoodie draped loosely over his white ringer tee. He lingers by the doorway for a second before gesturing, a silent question hanging in the air: Can I join you?

“How is it?”

Euijoo hums, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “How does it feel to be back in your old house?” A small smile tugs at Euijoo’s lips. “Surprisingly, a lot has changed. My aunt has a… let’s say unique taste compared to my mom, so that might be why.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting down toward the first floor of the house as if taking it all in again. “But… it’s still the same here, isn’t it?” He looks back at Nicholas, eyes softer now. “It’s comforting, to be greeted with familiarity.”

Nothing makes Nicholas happier than that. Hearing Euijoo find comfort in the remnants of his past, in a place that still seems to hold traces of home even after all these years of Euijoo not visiting. He hopes that this house still feels like it belongs to Euijoo, even if only a little.

They begin making their way upstairs, but just as Nicholas reaches the second floor, something makes him stop. He turns back, realizing that Euijoo hasn’t followed. Instead, he stands frozen in front of Nicholas’s bedroom door, staring at the door, or on the wooden plate hanging there with the name Nicholas and various stickers patched right next to it.

“You still kept it.”

There’s a trace of something unreadable in Euijoo’s voice, nostalgia, maybe. He steps closer, brushing his fingers over the stickers that cluster around the plate. “The board, the stickers, everything.”

Nicholas chuckles as he walks back toward him. “Turns out I’m more of a sentimental man than I thought.” He folds his arms, leaning against the wall beside the door. “This thing holds so many memories, I never had the heart to take it down.” Euijoo’s fingers trail over one of the stickers. “This one’s from that ice cream truck guy.”

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, amused. “Wow, you actually remember that?” Euijoo glances at him with a smile before turning back to the board. His fingers continue their journey, pointing at each sticker, murmuring their origins like old secrets being unearthed.

“I remember this one, it came from one of those cereal boxes.”
“From the dance club.”
“Miss Charlotte’s gift, on Teacher’s Day.”
“Pokémon sticker book.”

He keeps going, caught in the quiet rhythm of his own recollection, completely unaware of the way Nicholas is staring at him.

Nicholas stares, the warmth in his chest growing unbearable. The way Euijoo traces the stickers—so careful, so doting—feels like something more, something more than Nicholas' mind wants him to believe, something Nicholas doesn’t have the courage to put into words. It’s like, in this moment, Euijoo isn’t just tracing the remnants of childhood; he’s tracing the very pieces of Nicholas himself.

The day he got back from Home Depot and called Euijoo to help him decorate his room, all of these things became a part of Nicholas, a reflection of who he was. And Euijoo was there, right beside him, right from the start, adding color to it all, shaping them, making them matter.

Literally and figuratively.

When they step onto the rooftop, they are greeted by the night air and the quiet view of Brooklyn Heights under the glow of streetlights. Nicholas takes a seat first, watching as Euijoo wanders around the rooftop with curious eyes, his fingers grazing the leaves of a potted plant.

"New hobby, my mother loves gardening now," Nicholas remarks, amused by the way Euijoo inspects every plant as if trying to memorize them. Euijoo nods, still looking around. “Yeah, I noticed. There were a bunch of flowers in the living room too, right?”

Nicholas smiles knowingly. “Does it remind you of the past? Being here, sitting like this.”

Euijoo finally settles beside him, murmuring a quiet thank you as he takes the can of soda Nicholas hands him. He cracks it open with a soft hiss before replying, “Yeah, but the rooftop feels so different now. It’s fuller. I didn’t expect this place to be the one that changed the most, to be honest.” He glances around once more, taking in the array of plants, the outdoor furniture, the softened glow of fairy lights draped along the railing. “It used to be empty.”

Nicholas chuckles, taking a sip of his own drink. “It used to be just us here. Lying on the hard concrete, staring at the night sky.”

Euijoo hums in agreement, exhaling a small laugh. “It’s like… maybe it’s just like life, you know? Everything changes. More things come into your life, and suddenly, what used to be empty becomes full.” Nicholas straightens his posture, smiling with quiet amusement. “Now who’s getting sentimental?”

“I’m just trying to put it in a way that makes sense, okay?” Euijoo defends himself, laughing as he lightly nudges Nicholas’ shoulder.

This simple moment is what Nicholas longed for, a quiet night with his childhood best friend, filled with laughter and nostalgia, reminiscing the time that has passed. He watches Euijoo’s profile in the soft glow of the rooftop lights, committing the sight to memory. A part of him, deep and selfish, wishes this could be every night. Nicholas wished he could see this sight every day. A deeper, more selfish part of him has always wished Euijoo had never left.

“When are you leaving for Lunar New Year?”

Nicholas turned his head at the question, caught off guard. Right, he had completely forgotten about that. For a brief moment it felt like he was thirteen again, dreading the family gathering and wishing he could slip away to Euijoo’s room instead, where Euijoo would be curled up with a book, only to be constantly interrupted by Nicholas’ relentless attempts to distract him.

“Ugh,” Nicholas groaned, slouching back against his seat. “In three days. Morning flight.” He sighed, already feeling the exhaustion of early check-ins and long security lines creeping in. Then, with a smirk, he joked, “Why? Do you want to drop me off at the airport or something?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about that.”

His breath caught, he wasn’t sure if he had misheard. He cleared his throat, trying to mask the sudden shift in his heartbeat. He had only meant it as a joke because there was no way Euijoo would actually consider going out of his way to accompany him to the airport. Right?

But here he was, proving Nicholas wrong yet again.

It was ridiculous how even after all these years, Euijoo could still do this to him, to say something so effortlessly, so casually, like it was nothing. When in reality, to Nicholas, Euijoo’s words cost his entire being.

“I’m leaving in the morning as well,” Euijoo continued, oblivious to the storm of thoughts swirling inside Nicholas’ head. “Auntie planned a road trip to Lower Manhattan.”

“Then you should go with her, don’t mind me,” Nicholas replied quickly, trying to push away whatever feeling was threatening to surface. “Are you meeting your family there?”

Euijoo shrugged. “They’ll be arriving the day after. We’re going with my aunt’s friends, you saw them earlier, right? The friendly middle-aged women? We’re all going together.”

Nicholas nodded, recalling the group of women he had briefly seen at Euijoo’s aunt’s house. For a second, he wondered if the younger version of himself, who had once believed that time and distance could never touch their friendship, would have smiled at this moment. That after everything, despite all the years apart, Euijoo still cared enough to consider driving him to the airport.

The thought settled in his chest, warm and heavy all at once.

Then, without meaning to, his mind drifted back to the young woman he had seen earlier, the one Euijoo had just said goodbye to just a few minutes ago. Nicholas had completely forgotten about her for a moment, but now curiosity crept back in like an itch he couldn’t ignore. Who was she? Would she be joining the trip? Is Euijoo spending his holiday here with her?

The questions stirred something uncomfortable inside him, though he couldn’t quite name what. He shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of how tense his shoulders had become. His lips twitched, hesitation making his words stumble before they even left his mouth.

“That woman earlier,” he started, feigning casual interest as he took another sip of his drink. “The one you just escorted out, uh, is she one of your relatives? Is she going with you?”

Euijoo didn’t seem to catch the slight edge in Nicholas’ voice, or if he did, he chose not to acknowledge it. “She’s the daughter of one of my aunt’s friends,” Euijoo answered simply. “I just met her today, actually. They were making plans for the trip with her just then… so yeah, she’ll probably join.”

Nicholas nodded stiffly, pressing the cold can against his lips in an effort to ground himself. He avoided Euijoo’s gaze, keeping his eyes on the night skyline instead. He wasn’t sure what to say next, worse, he wasn’t sure what expression he was making, and he didn’t want Euijoo to see it. Then, as if sensing something, Euijoo’s voice cut through the silence.

“Are you interested in her?”

Nicholas nearly choked on his drink.

His head snapped toward Euijoo so fast that he felt the strain in his neck. Euijoo held his voice, almost bursting out laughing. “Goodness gracious, Byun Euijoo,” he sputtered, his voice slightly higher than intended. “How the hell did you even come to that conclusion?”

Euijoo barely contained his laughter, biting his lip as amusement twinkled in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “I was just asking.” He leaned back, stretching his legs as he continued, “You know we’re at that age where our relatives start asking about girlfriend, marriage, all that stuff. Just thought maybe you were thinking about it too.”

Nicholas let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. Really? That’s what Euijoo thought? That Nicholas—who had spent years longing, yearning, and carrying the weight of something unspoken—would just be casually thinking about dating someone else?

He wished he could say it outright. He wished he could grab Euijoo by the shoulders and shake him, tell him, No, you idiot. I’m not interested in her. I’ve never been interested in anyone. Because ever since Euijoo left, Nicholas had never seen anyone else, not in that way.

But instead, all he did was scoff, shaking his head as he looked away. Maybe he wasn’t dropping enough hints. Or maybe Euijoo was just dense.

Or worse, maybe Euijoo knew.

Maybe he had always known and had simply chosen to brush it all off.

Nicholas wasn’t sure which possibility unsettled him more, but the latter made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Maybe you’re projecting,” he blurted out, his voice deliberately casual. “Have you been thinking about getting married?”

The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His fingers tightened around the now lukewarm can in his hands as he squirmed in his seat, waiting for Euijoo’s answer.

Euijoo paused, his gaze steady as he studied Nicholas with an unreadable expression before finally breaking into a small smile.

“No… but even if I did, I don’t think I’d have the courage to actually go through with it. Not yet, anyway.”

Nicholas exhaled, forcing himself to keep his voice light. “But… Do you want to get married?”

The silence that followed was thick enough to drown in.

Nicholas felt it creeping in, settling between them like an invisible barrier, and for countless times, he wanted to take his question back. Maybe he should have kept it all to himself. But he knew that Euijoo never brought up topics like love or romance, much less marriage. If Euijoo from the past had been unsure, unsure about love, about them, then at the very least, Nicholas wanted to know what Euijoo thought now.

If nothing else, then this would be it. Just this one answer. Then he won’t push it any longer.

Euijoo exhaled softly, his gaze drifting away. “Kind of…” he murmured. “It’s just… in my head, it seems like that’s just how life is supposed to go, you know?”

Nicholas doesn't know how to respond. Nicholas doesn’t have an answer to that. Truthfully, Nicholas didn’t know what he was expecting.

Was he expecting Euijoo to say, No, I have no interest in marriage because I’ve been holding myself back for the past six years, suppressing my feelings just like you have?

Had he really been waiting for that? For Euijoo to finally give in, to lay everything bare between them, to let it all come crashing down in a way that would force them to acknowledge what had always remained unsaid?

Or was that just what he wanted to believe? What he thought love should look like. Messy, undeniable, an unraveling of everything held tightly beneath the surface?

Was he only projecting? Forcing his own emotions onto Euijoo, twisting reality into something more bearable, something that fit the narrative he had built inside his head?

Nicholas doesn’t know the consequences that come with loving someone, for loving a man, for loving Euijoo. Maybe it’s more of a consequence that comes with making Euijoo’s arms his home. If Euijoo were a home, Nicholas would have wanted him to leave in ruins, to tear it apart until nothing of its shape remained. But instead, Euijoo left with a quiet farewell, a room still perfectly in order, except for the untouched breakfast Nicholas had made, left to grow cold.

And now, Euijoo had returned, the breakfast was still the same. Untouched, neatly laid out. A repetition of the past, a cycle Nicholas didn’t know how to break.

“Well then, good luck with that.” Nicholas tried to keep his tone neutral, his fingers idly tapping against the can in his hands.

Euijoo hummed, staring down at his own drink as he traced circles against the condensation on the aluminum. “Yeah… thanks. Good luck to you too, with whatever path you choose in the future.”

Nicholas turned his head slightly at that, studying the side of Euijoo’s face. The words were simple, but they carried a weight that Nicholas couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not curious?” Nicholas asked, tilting his head.

Euijoo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’ll tell me if you want to, right?”

Nicholas felt his throat tighten.

Would he?

Would he ever be able to say out loud the things that mattered?

He coughed, clearing his throat to buy himself a second to breathe. “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment before Nicholas exhaled. “Also, enjoy your trip. You’ll have fun in Manhattan.” He didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but he could hear the slight edge in his own voice.

Euijoo turned to look at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Yeah, I will.” He hesitated for a second, then added, almost too casually, “I wish I could go with you, though.”

Nicholas’ fingers froze mid-tap. His heart skipped, then pounded painfully hard.

“What?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, his body going rigid.

Euijoo smiled, but it wasn’t teasing or playful. It was soft, almost wistful. “I wish you would go with me. With us.” He glanced down, as if choosing his words carefully. “We could spend more time together… catch up on our lives properly.”

Nicholas swallowed. His hands felt clammy, his entire body suddenly hyper-aware of the space between them, of how close they were sitting, of the way Euijoo’s leg almost brushed against his.

Euijoo mused, his eyes meeting Nicholas’. “Because being in New York reminds me of you.”

“I missed you.”

Nicholas forgot how to breathe. He could only stare, his mind scrambling to make sense of the words. He simply sat there, pretending that his heart wasn’t trying to claw its way out of his chest.

His mind replayed twenty-two years of his life in flashes, every moment spent with Euijoo, every shared glance that lingered just a second too long, every accidental touch that felt more intentional than either of them ever admitted. Every small, fleeting thing Euijoo had ever given him.

Nicholas let out a laugh, but it was dry, hollow, laced with something bitter he couldn’t quite swallow. The weight in his chest felt unbearable, suffocating, yet familiar, something he had long learned to live with.

Without another word, he abruptly stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his jeans as he reached for his belongings. His hands moved with practiced ease, but his mind was elsewhere, spinning in circles, drowning in the memories that clawed at him from the depths of his heart.

Euijoo remained seated, unmoving, watching him with quiet confusion. His gaze followed Nicholas’ every movement, as if searching for an answer in the way his fingers gripped his laptop a little too tightly, or in the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavier than before, filled with all the words left unsaid.

Their eyes met, and Nicholas forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s past twelve already,” he said, his voice carefully even. “Let’s get back. I have work tomorrow.”

Nicholas woke up with the worst headache ever.

His client even got worried when he arrived at the photoshoot location, saying that instead of looking like someone who gets zero hours of sleep, he looks like he had slept for 3000 years and now he is mortified by the horrors of the world he had just witnessed.

Well, they weren’t entirely wrong.

He spent the entire day immersed on his work, working at an inhumane speed and focus. It was a pattern whenever he wanted to avoid his thoughts, he worked at a relentless pace, filling every empty space in his mind with tasks. Resulting in finishing the work early, and of course instead of taking a well-earned break, he went straight into his studio and started working on projects that were originally planned to finish after he got back from Taipei. By the time he finally dragged himself home, it was past midnight. The house next door was dark, silent. No lights, no movement, no sign of humans still awake.

That should have been a relief. It should have meant he could finally rest without distraction.

It wasn’t.

He woke up with another pain in his head and his back. The project he was working on lasted for two days in a row, so the cycle repeated the next day. Another early start, another long stretch of work, went to his studio, picked up all the wardrobe pieces that were needed, and then returned to the set, with the same exhaustion in his face.

The day dragged on. Unlike yesterday, he finished late. By the time he wrapped up, it was already ten at night, and exhaustion clung to his body like a second skin. He barely had the energy to sort through his belongings, let alone haul everything back to his studio. Then it hit him, he hadn’t even packed for his trip. Nicholas sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He needed to get it done by tomorrow, but right now? Right now, he just needed to get home.

And when he got home, he had never regretted a decision so fast. He should have just slept at his studio. No matter how cramped or uncomfortable the couch was, it would have been better than this, better than stepping out of his car, dragging his exhausted feet toward the door, only to find someone sitting there, waiting for him. He wished he could pretend the guy in front of his door wasn’t there.

Nicholas exhaled sharply. "What are you doing here?"

Euijoo blinked up at him, eyes heavy with sleep, as if he had been waiting for hours. He stood up slowly, stretching his stiff limbs, then wordlessly held out two plastic containers. "Orange chicken... and bread pudding."

"I got back at nine yesterday and realized you hadn’t come home yet. You are alone, so I was worried you weren’t eating properly.”

For a moment, his mind went blank, overwhelmed by a dozen conflicting emotions. The rational part of him wanted to be annoyed, wanted to tell Euijoo that he could take care of himself, that he didn’t need anyone checking in on him. But his heart said otherwise. The sudden warmth of being looked after by Euijoo stirred something deep within him. It felt like his entire being was unraveling.

Nicholas swallowed down the lump in his throat and took the containers. His fingers brushed against Euijoo’s, and it took everything in him not to flinch at the warmth.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “You know what, I'm an adult and I know how to cook now but of course I cannot blame you for not knowing that.”

Nicholas was kind of startled by how the words came out more passive-aggressive than he had intended. He caught a flicker of something unreadable in Euijoo’s expression before looking away, reaching for the door handle. He just brushed it off.

“Wait.”

His hand stopped midair, mere inches from the doorknob. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, already regretting turning back around. But he did. Staring at Euijoo that look hesitated, “Do you still have work tomorrow?”

No, I don’t.

“Yes, I need to go back to the studio.”

Euijoo looked surprised, not the response he had expected, Nicholas assumed. Nicholas wasn’t sure what Euijoo was trying to say, but from the way he asked, Nicholas can only think of one thing, and no, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to spend this one day with the man who had haunted him for six years for the last time, only to act like it doesn’t affect him, only to pretend like none of it mattered.

Maybe Nicholas from three days ago would; crazy how much could change within a short period of time. Maybe three days ago, he would have taken whatever time Euijoo was willing to give him, no matter how temporary, no matter how painful. But not anymore. Not when he knew just how much it would ruin him.

“Are you working until midnight again?”

Nicholas exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have to pack in the morning and yeah, by the time I get back, it will probably be midnight again. Or maybe eight at the earliest because I have morning flight and I need to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, Euijoo looked disappointed. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but then he held back. Nicholas knew Euijoo well enough to recognize the signs—he knew the way Euijoo hesitated when he was biting down words he couldn’t say.

But at the same time, Nicholas didn’t know everything. Not anymore. There were too many years in between them now, too much that had changed. And maybe that was for the best. Because Nicholas didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to let his most vulnerable, unspoken wish rise to the surface, only to remind himself of its impossibility.

Their eyes locked and Nicholas felt his throat tightened, no please Euijoo no. He wanted to look away, to step back, to escape the weight of those eyes before they pulled him under. He didn’t want warmth. He didn’t want kindness. He didn’t want the man in front of him to keep making it so goddamn hard to let go.

“So this will be the last time I see you?”

He bit his lip, his entire body rigid with the effort of keeping himself together. His mind screamed at him to shut down, to sever the moment before it became something unbearable. But his heart, his heart was already crumbling, piece by piece, under the weight of Euijoo’s voice.

He could feel the sting of tears creeping up, burning at the edges of his vision. Nicholas swallowed hard. "We can see each other in the morning." His voice was quiet, strained. A pause. Then, softer, weaker, "Right before I go."

Nicholas was reminded of the last time he saw Euijoo.

They were sixteen. They were young. They were stupid. They had just come back from a farewell party, the air in the bridge was cold, and so was Euijoo. There were two minds that crashed, two hearts that hesitated, two souls that stood side by side yet felt miles apart. There were words that hung between them, there was something left unsaid, something buried beneath the silence.

Buried along with Nicholas’ heart, along with his feelings that Euijoo had ignored, along with what makes Euijoo truly hold himself back from acknowledging Nicholas feelings and his. Which was something that Nicholas would never find out nor understand, because Euijoo had never given him the chance to try. On why Euijoo never let him try, why he never let him fight for the possibility of something more.

And today, Nicholas had just buried his heart again, willingly, with his own hands.

Nicholas once believed the world could be his.

He spent his days dreaming about the future, all the possibilities, all the goodness and love the world could offer. He used to believe that if he reached far enough, if he worked hard enough, if he wished long enough, the universe would eventually be kind to him.

This city was heavy and surviving felt like a life sentence but he was brave and hopeful. Now he is ashamed, ashamed that the ten-year-old boy who once lived within his body was far braver than the man he has become. A child, helpless and small, with so much courage, busy surviving while also searching, starving for something.

And maybe God is cruel because he once had the taste of it, only for it to be taken away from him after let himself grow with it, let it take root inside him, let himself believe in it. Nicholas is no longer ten nor sixteen, Nicholas is now twenty-two and he has grown with all he has loved and lost.

He thought losing it for the second time would be easier, he thought it would hurt less. Until he found himself wandering around Brooklyn Heights, head tilted toward the sky, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his mind elsewhere. It’s crazy how life just goes on, so does his exhaustion, so does his sorrow, he carries it unnoticed, he has learned to live with it and get over it. Well he had grown how to live with it but he never knew how to get over it.

Nicholas could feel loneliness everywhere, but it weighed him the most in the city. The city is a very lonely place. The absence of intimacy and connection has made him more exposed to the vastness of human beings, living and attaching to each other, pressing into him.

The group of teenagers laughing in the coffee shop, the elderly couple in front of the flower shop, the woman in suit talking to her phone. It doesn’t matter whether he is walking with a direction or purpose in mind, with his jobs in his mind, with his friends waiting at the bar, or with his mother grocery shopping list in hand.

In the end, he has always been searching for a place to belong.

Nicholas woke up late and immediately started packing, which he managed to finish in just an hour, stuffing his belongings into his suitcase with the kind of practiced detachment that made it feel like he wasn’t really leaving.

After zipping up the last bag, he decided to leave his car behind and walk to his studio, wanting to spend more time with himself. Yesterday, his mind had felt like a wrecked ship, but today he felt empty, an overwhelming tide of emotions where he feels everything all at once to the point he reached numbness, he doesn’t know which one he prefers.

To his surprise he met Auntie Byun by the doorway before he could leave, saying that the younger man was looking for him at nine in the morning but Nicholas was still asleep at that time.

For a moment, Nicholas could only stand there, gripping the strap of his bag a little tighter. Nicholas could only force a small smile before he stepped out onto the street with an empty head. He didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t want to make anything of it. Instead, he just walked, the city stretching around him, the sounds of traffic and chatter and everyday life filling the empty spaces in his head.

He told himself it didn’t matter, but Nicholas knew himself, he knew that when he returned back from Taipei, finding the man is no longer here would probably wreck him, and it would take months to recover.

People always told him that the gentle heart is a gift of yours but Nicholas wasn’t sure what to do when he loves someone to the point of ruin.

By the time he finished sorting out his work in the studio, two hours had passed. He had one last errand to run—a quick trip to the supermarket to pick up something his mother had forgotten to bring home. A small, simple task. It’s still four in the afternoon, he doesn't want to go home yet. So instead he chose to keep walking, to spend just a little more time with himself.

He stepped into the usual café, ordered his favorite pastry, his favorite strawberry yogurt. He walked through streets he had memorized like the back of his hand,letting his feet take him nowhere in particular, slowing when he stumbled across a bookstore or a flea market tucked between two buildings. He eats his take outs in botanic park, settling onto a bench as he watches the sunsets.

He ate slowly, not out of hunger, but to give himself something to do as he watched the sky shift from blue to gold to something deeper, something quieter.

He did more watching than eating. More listening than thinking. People passed by, some alone, some in pairs, some in groups. Nicholas wondered how people carried their lives.

How they carried their losses, their regrets, their unanswered questions. How they continued forward even when there was no certainty of ever finding the answers.

He thinks about his upcoming projects. He thinks about his plan to work on his own clothing brand. He thinks about all the dreams that were once only floating in his head.

He thought about how far he had come. How the boy who once felt trapped in his own skin had grown into someone who carved a space for himself in the world. But despite everything, despite all that he had built, he still longed for some kind of relief. Some permission to just exist without constantly feeling the need to prove himself, to earn his place, to keep moving.

Maybe he should be easier on himself.

Maybe it was okay to just exist.

Someone had taught him that once. Had sat with him through restless nights and moments of doubt, reminding him that healing wasn’t a race, that growth didn’t have to be painful to be real. Nicholas had learned how to be kinder to himself back then.

But now, he had to learn how to exist with everything that remained.

To carry the love and the loss without letting it tear him apart. To let the memories settle within him without reopening old wounds.

He needs to learn how to be kinder to himself, to just breathe, not being in survival mode all the time, and he needs to learn to come at peace with every aspect of his life connected with his lost love, for them to exist within him without hurting.

Drowned in his thoughts, Nicholas barely noticed the time until the clock struck half past seven as he made his way toward the supermarket. Scanning through the racks with his mother’s list in his hand.

He thought about his older sister, who had stayed in Taipei after graduating from college—how she had built a life there, separate from the one they had once shared under the same roof. He thought about his younger cousins, their faces flashing through his memory like faded photographs. He thought about the rest of his family, the ones he didn’t see often, whose preferences and habits he tried to commit to memory in these brief reunions.

It was one of the rare chances for him to reunite with them, he had spent his time today walking through Brooklyn as if this were his last moment here. But stepping into the grocery store reminded him that he would be staying in Taipei for a short time. He thought of meeting his relatives, who would ask him the usual questions about college, about life in New York. How does it feel to live in the US. How fluent he is in speaking English.

Nicholas once told him about being split between two places, to exist in both and neither at the same time. And Nicholas had once learned about the perks of having two places that held so many of his memories, to come back no matter where the continent he stood, that there is always a place for him to go back home. And Nicholas wanted to believe that, once more he wanted to try to believe that.

Stepping out of the store, he took a deep breath and let the cool night air fill his lungs. His heart felt lighter, a little less burdened than before. As he walked, he let his gaze wander, drinking in the sight of the city lights reflecting off the towering glass buildings. He didn’t rush, allowing his feet to guide him through the streets, absentmindedly tracing a familiar path.

And then, almost instinctively, he found himself heading toward Brooklyn Bridge Park. He knew where this road would take him. Crossing Squibb Park Bridge meant confronting the place he had been avoiding for years, the place where so much had been left unsaid, where something had ended before he even had the chance to hold onto it.

It’s a first step for him to come at peace, to face what he had buried once.

But what he didn’t expect—what he couldn’t have possibly prepared himself for—once he reached the bridge, he would be greeted by the object of his dilemma. Byun Euijoo, standing there, his hand gripping the hand rail.

Euijoo jolted at the sight of Nicholas, his body tensing as if he had been caught off guard. Nicholas took a step back. The distance settled between them like a wall, thick and impenetrable.

“What are you doing out here?” Nicholas asked. Euijoo hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Auntie told me she saw you enter the grocery store, so I thought I’d wait for you.”

Nicholas studied his face, searching for something—anything—that could explain why Euijoo was here, standing in front of him like this. But all he saw was worry. Worry, and something else he couldn’t name. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand.

“I was waiting for you…”

“No…” Nicholas shook his head, his voice breaking as he took another step back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say another word.”

Euijoo’s lips parted, but he obeyed.

Nicholas had looked at Euijoo a thousand times before, when they were kids, when they were teenagers, when they were something in-between, but never like this. Never with this unbearable weight pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. He sees an expression he had never seen Euijoo’s make throughout their years being together. It torments him how all it took for Euijoo is to stare right into him, like he is exposing Nicholas’ raw and bare, laid him open, made him feel like he was unraveling at the seams.

Euijoo moved first, reaching out again, slower this time, hesitant, giving Nicholas the chance to pull away, and Nicholas didn’t reject. That is the moment where his gaze fell on Euijoo’s palm, on his finger, on his pinky finger, on the silver ring.

“What—” His voice caught, his throat tightening. “Why are you wearing this? What are you doing—”

Euijoo swallowed. “You wore a shirt the first time we met, at the rest stop. You wore one again that night, on the rooftop. I could see the chain around your neck, but I never saw where the pendant ended.” He took a shaky breath. “I saw it yesterday. When you got home. You still have the ring.”

Nicholas felt like his body was caving in on itself.

“And now you decide to wear it again?” His voice cracked, disbelief spilling through his words. “For what?”

Euijoo’s gaze didn’t waver. “No… you didn’t notice.” His voice was so quiet, so careful, it almost sounded like regret. “I’ve been wearing it since we met at the rest stop.”

The realization hit him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs. Nicholas could feel his body crumble hearing those words, his feet stumbled back instinctively, as if retreating could somehow protect him from the weight of those words. Euijoo’s hand—whose grip is too gentle, trembling—lost his.

Nicholas’ fingers found his hair, gripping at his scalp as if grounding himself could keep him from spiraling. The pressure built inside his chest, something heavy, something unbearable.

“One question.” His voice wavered, his lip trembling as he bit down on it, forcing himself to hold it together. “Do you think I stopped loving you just because we were separated?”

Euijoo’s breath hitched. “What…?”

“You left.” Nicholas’ voice broke, and suddenly, it was all spilling out of him. Years of agony, of questions left unanswered, of wounds that never healed. “You left, and you never gave me an answer. Never even acknowledged my feelings.” His hands clenched into fists. “And then you came back like it never happened. Like it never existed.”

His breath stuttered. His chest ached.

“I—” Nicholas tried, but his voice was barely a whisper. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, trying to keep the sob lodged in his throat from breaking free.

“I would have preferred you to say it to my face,” he continued, his voice rising, shaking. “Scream it at me—just like I’m doing right now.” His vision blurred, and he hated himself for how weak he sounded, for how much he was still hurting. “If you never loved me… if you never even wanted to give me a chance… then act like it.”

His voice cracked, and the last words came out like a plea, like a curse.

“Act like you meant it.”

He stood there, watching Euijoo, waiting for the words to come. He knew it would take time, Euijoo had always been careful with his words, always measured, always hesitating just a little too long before letting them slip past his lips. And Nicholas had always waited.

Then Euijoo lifted his gaze, facing Nicholas. His hand trembled at his side, fingers twitching, his lips parted, quivering slightly, uncertainty evident in every breath he took.

“I love you.”

The wind was cold and still. The street was empty, void of movement, void of sound. It was just them, standing there, frozen in time. And the words came out so quietly, so fragile, that for a moment, Nicholas almost thought he had imagined them. Euijoo’s words felt like they had been swallowed by noise, lost somewhere between the space of Nicholas’ past and present, taking too long to settle, too long to make sense.

Nicholas blinked. The meaning felt distant, out of reach, and when it finally caught up to him, his chest constricted.

“If you’re saying this out of pity,” he started, his voice rough, unsteady, “because I’m your best friend or something—then I don’t want to hear—”

“I mean it Nichol!”

The words were sharp, desperate—Euijoo’s voice rising in a way Nicholas had never heard before. For once, for the first time in his life, Nicholas heard Euijoo raise his voice. And for the first time in years, Euijoo called him by his childhood nickname.

Euijoo’s walls, the ones he had spent years building, were crumbling right in front of him. The man who had always held back, always kept his emotions locked behind careful restraint, was unraveling.

“Shit—sorry, Nichol I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

Nicholas barely registered the apology. His mind was racing, “Then why—” his body moving before he could think—stepping closer, closing the space between them, his heart pounding so loud he thought it might deafen him. “Then why would you do that, why would you treat me like that?”

Nicholas had always known it took courage for Euijoo to open up. That was why he had never forced him. He had never rushed him, never demanded more than Euijoo could give. Euijoo had once told him, I’m most like myself when I’m with you.

And Nicholas had never questioned that. He had never minded if there were pieces of Euijoo that remained hidden, if there were parts of himself he chose to shield. Nicholas was always willing to wait, always willing to be patient.

But this.

What Euijoo had been holding back all these years, this was different.

This involved Nicholas.

This had hurt Nicholas.

In ways he never thought Euijoo could.

And he had to live with that.

Euijoo had left, and Nicholas had been forced to bury everything, to swallow the ache, to pretend it never happened. And now, Euijoo was back, standing in front of him, telling him the words he had once begged to hear.

And yet, all Nicholas could feel was pain.

Because it had come too late.

And because Euijoo, with all his tenderness, was still hurting him.

“Nichol…”

His voice faltered, barely above a whisper, fragile and trembling like a thread on the verge of snapping.

And for the first time, Nicholas saw Euijoo completely undone, standing there with the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders, unable to speak. His face twisted, brows drawn tight in frustration, lips parting and closing again like words were trapped inside his throat, too afraid to come out.

Nicholas had never seen him like this. Never seen Euijoo so visibly frustrated… not with Nicholas, but with himself.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Euijoo breathed out, his voice cracking with strain. “I’m afraid it’s hard to explain, and I’ll sound—”

“Then make me.”

“Make me understand.”

Nicholas' voice cut sharp, contrasting with how Euijoo talked slowly followed by stutter. Euijoo’s lips parted again, but no sound came out. Nicholas didn’t move. He held his ground, fists clenched at his sides, his breath uneven.

“I spent years,” he began, voice low and hoarse, “loving you. Waiting for you. I loved you enough to carry the weight of everything you wouldn’t say. I loved you even when you left. Even when you acted like none of it mattered. I loved you through every silence, every wound you refused to show me, through every time you made me feel like I was the only one bleeding.”

And then, in that still moment between them, Nicholas realized something else, something terrifying in its clarity. Maybe they were more alike than they had ever let themselves admit.

The way they both hesitated. The way they stuttered and stumbled over their feelings, too scared of how deeply their emotions could cut. Too scared of what loving each other truly meant.

As someone who loved Euijoo, Nicholas had every right to be angry. To feel betrayed. But as Euijoo’s best friend, Nicholas would have walked into the fire for him. Would have stepped willingly into his chaos, his contradictions, his self-doubt.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Euijoo finally said, voice cracking. “Back then I was scared. I was so confused. I was unsure of myself and I don’t want to get you inside of this mess.”

His eyes were glassy now, shimmering under the bridge lights. His shoulders shook as he continued.

“When you confessed… I didn’t know what I felt. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I acted like a coward. I know I did. I was afraid to accept yours because I never understood and accepted mine.”

“If I had said I loved you too, I would have been lying, because I didn’t know what it meant yet. But if I had said I didn’t like you at all… that would’ve been a lie too. Because I did. I loved you. God, I loved you, Nichol. But I didn’t know how to be with you.”

“I’m sorry…” Euijoo’s voice broke again, and he took a trembling step forward. “Because my first instinct was to run away. That’s all I knew. I thought, I hoped, that if I left and gave myself time, I could come back whole. I could come back and finally be someone who deserved you.”

“But I never stopped thinking about you,” Euijoo continued, eyes locked onto him. “I looked for you everywhere. I looked for you in every crowded street in Seoul. I thought of you when I walked by the Han River and saw the moon hanging low. I kept reaching out in ways that had never been fulfilled, only to realize that the person I was looking for was the same one I had pushed away.”

His voice softened, barely more than a breath.

“Because I fear I had messed up, and when you finally opened me up, all you found was something broken. Something that couldn’t be put back together. And I was scared that if you saw all of me, you’d walk away.”

“But despite everything, I have always, always loved you.”

And just like that, the breath in Nicholas’ lungs escaped him, and he wasn’t sure if it was from pain or relief or some mixture of both.

He looked at Euijoo. At the trembling hands, the tear-streaked face, the raw vulnerability written in every inch of him. And all he could do was stand there, aching with a love that had never stopped, and a hurt that still had no end.

“Look at me, Euijoo.”

Euijoo hesitated, as if the request alone required all the courage left in him. But he lifted his gaze, inch by inch, until their eyes finally met. And in that moment, the world quieted around them, their lips touched.

It was tentative at first, like a question neither had ever dared to ask aloud. But as they leaned into it, the kiss deepened. It wasn’t passionate, not yet. It was tender. Gentle. The kiss feels like a solace, a balm pressed to every wound Euijoo had just laid bare.

Nicholas breathed him in like a prayer, his hand moving to the back of Euijoo’s neck, gently pulling him closer, anchoring him in place. His fingers curled into the fabric of Euijoo’s collar, grounding himself there, in this fragile, trembling intimacy.

He waited for Euijoo to respond, to hold him back, to embrace him, to choose him. While Euijoo stood frozen for a heartbeat too long. The weight of the moment was overwhelming.

Then, with a breath, he reached out—hesitantly, carefully—as if afraid Nicholas might slip away again if he wasn’t gentle enough. His hands found Nicholas’ waist, fitting there with a kind of reverence, like his palms had always been meant to rest there. He held him like he was holding something sacred.

And then, slowly, his right hand rose to Nicholas’ cheek, brushing away a trace. His thumb lingered under the curve of Nicholas’ eye, and with a light, trembling pressure, Euijoo tilted Nicholas’ face back to him.

Nicholas let him.

Their foreheads brushed together, their breaths mingling. Euijoo studied him, the flush that bloomed on Nicholas’ cheeks, the soft curve of his lips still parted from the kiss, the way his eyes shimmered, not from tears, but from something far deeper: tenderness. Forgiveness.

And in those eyes, Euijoo saw everything he had feared he’d lost.

Nicholas had every reason to pull away. To turn cold, to close himself off, to protect his heart. But instead, he looked at Euijoo with nothing but affection. So much affection it made Euijoo ache.

And somehow, that love, quiet and unwavering, was the most painful and beautiful thing Euijoo had ever known.

The wind blew softly across the bridge, the city lights flickered around them like scattered stars.

“I have so much love to give you, Joo.”

The confession fell into the air like a stone into still water, gentle but rippling, far-reaching. His hands trembled slightly as they reached for Euijoo’s, their fingers brushing before finally curling together.

Nicholas exhaled slowly, his chest rising with all the weight he’d carried over the years.

“I love you as I feel the red strings tied into my finger every time I wake up.” He gave a faint, almost sorrowful smile. “I think I have loved you in every life. In one where we met in college, in one where you confessed first, in one where we met in Seoul and it also took us years to realize we have promised to our souls.”

The bridge creaked gently beneath their feet. Euijoo’s breath hitched, but he said nothing.

“With every fiber of my being I had walked into love and chosen you. I choose to love you with all the flaws and filth, in a hundred lifetimes I’d find you and choose you again.”

“I tried to be brave because of you, I survived because I had you. I went through it all because you made me believe in myself. You shaped me in a way no one else could ever do, Joo.”

The wind stirred again, brushing Nicholas’ hair into his eyes, and he blinked it away. The silence that followed felt thick with grief and love, tangled in the same breath.

Euijoo’s throat worked before he could speak. He looked down at their hands, then back up, ashamed of the tears he could no longer hold back.

“And yes. Of course, it doesn’t erase the fact that you hurt me,” he said. His voice was firm now. “I want you to live with it. To remember it. To carry it like I carried it.”

He let go of Euijoo’s hand then, just briefly, just enough to place it on his chest. “I despise you as much as I love you.”

He let the words linger, not cruelly, but honestly. With weight.

“I want to start it all over,” he said. “Not by erasing the past. Not by pretending it never existed. But by holding it between us. Letting it live. And choosing each other anyway.”

The wind brushed through their soft skin, gentle as a whisper, rustling the hem of their coat and carrying the scent of the soil that flowed beneath the bridge.

Above them, the city hummed, dimmed and distant, as if it understood that this moment belonged to them alone.

The golden hue of the streetlights bathed their figures in a soft glow, catching the shine of tears that clung to the corners of their eyes. The sky above was painted in a deep violet, with stars just beginning to peek through the dusk, and the world felt stretched out before them, uncertain but infinite.

The bridge had become the witness of what they thought were the ending and where they found the beginning.

A quiet promise echoed in the air, in the way they stood facing one another, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath in the cool night.

Nicholas has shared every piece of him wherever he goes.

Pieces of him were scattered like echoes in the streets of Brooklyn, hidden in the corners of old bookstores, pressed between the pages of journals he could never quite finish. There were parts of him that left Taipei, the place of his origin, holding the boy he once was.

Being in his twenties, Nicholas found that constantly moving between two places—between expectations and longing, between past versions of himself and the future he still feared—was far more exhausting than it once seemed. There was always something left behind. A conversation unfinished. A version of himself not quite fully lived.

But he had found Euijoo.

Whether it be New York, Seoul, or Taipei, whether it was in a busy subway station or a quiet rooftop, in the way Euijoo said his name, or in the way he never needed to, Nicholas belonged wherever the man’s love carried him.

To be held as dear and close, to be seen so wholly and still chosen, he would fall into the same arms in all of his lifelines. Again and again, in every version of the world, in every universe where stars still burn and hearts still ache, Nicholas would find him.