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There was nothing Hyukjae hated more than being told he was wrong.
He lived a thorough life, and all things considered it wasn’t the worst set of cards he could’ve been dealt. When he looked back on his previous years he fondly recalled many moments of bliss and excitement. Sometimes, though, when the lights went out and the phone no longer rang, when the only noise in the house was the buzzing of a half-broken air conditioner, his mind sped past these happy memories and the torment in his head began to surface.
Why, he wondered, why did love run from him?
~
In all of those good moments throughout his life there was always the one common factor. Lee Donghae.
Hyukjae and Donghae met in their second year of elementary school, during days when the two boys could be free from the strain of adult stress. They only needed enough money for the candy shop down the street from school. Their first meeting was on a spring day, when the school bell was preparing for its final ring before summer. Things were winding down in class which left young Hyukjae’s busy mind to wander. Somehow, who knows how, a crayon was lodged into Hyukjae’s nose.
He cried quietly and tried to pull it out, but his tiny hands shook with anxious tremor. Until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he turned to face the mysterious person.
There he was. His Donghae. There he was.
Within seconds Donghae had the weeping boy smiling and giggling. Was it because Donghae said something funny? Or was it something else. Hyukjae wasn’t too sure.
However he was sure at high school graduation when Donghae pulled him away from the seating area after diplomas were all received. The two boys ran under the football field bleachers out of sight from all the families with their graduating children.
“Can you believe it?” Donghae shrieked, his hands excitedly gripping Hyukjae’s wrists.
“You know I couldn’t have done it without you.” Hyukjae looked at the ground and kicked the dirt up into tiny dust clouds.
“You could do anything you wanted to, but I’m so happy we did it together.”
A few seconds of silence. Feet slowly stepped closer to each other. Eyes met. Then lips. Then hands. Then Hyukjae couldn’t remember what happened next. But he remembered what he felt.
Love, pure and unwavering. All consuming.
It was a love affair that always hid from the light. Getting handsy in locked bedrooms with loud music blasting. Quick kisses in alleyways when they could pull off the main streets for a minute. Love letters were bound with wire and stuffed into glass bottles. Hyukjae didn’t mind, though. It didn’t matter that the world could never accept a love like their’s, because he knew what they had and how it was. He was the one who felt Donghae’s love surge from his heart to his fingertips as his touch lit Hyukjae’s heart firefly yellow. For a moment in time, Hyukjae knew briefly what it was like to love and to be loved. That was enough for him.
That summer after high school was the start and end of it all. They pulled Donghae’s number in August, Hyukjae being just one day off from joining the same platoon. In fact, in his unrestricted angst he hated his mother for quite some time. If she had only gone into labor one day sooner…
“I’m going to come home,” Donghae said. “I’m going to come home in one piece, and we’ll buy a house in the countryside. No one will bother us there.” His words raced from his mouth so quickly it was as if he knew it was the last thing he would say to the other boy and he had an entire lifetime of conversation to let out before it was too late.
“We’ll adopt, if you want,” he continued. “And we’ll have a nice car- no, two nice cars. We can drive to the shore in the summer with the kids and-“
Hyukjae sighed, cutting him off. “I just can’t believe you’re leaving me here.”
They had opened their letters at the same time just a few minutes before. As Hyukjae searched for his birthday on the list and saw nothing, a wave of relief washed over his body. He wouldn’t have to fight this pointless war, he would stay home with Donghae. When he looked over at the other boy and scanned his face searching for the same excitement, he saw the tears racing down his cheeks and dripping onto the official letterhead. He knew.
“I’m not leaving forever, Hyuk, you have to believe me. I probably won’t see any action-“
“Of course you will! Do you know how many soldiers are coming home in caskets from this?”
“You have to believe me…”
In the moment, however, Hyukjae couldn’t believe anything. He waited all his life for love, for Donghae, and it was being taken away from him. Like everything else.
For the first few weeks the two would send letters almost daily.
~
“Hyuk-ah, it’s warm here. You would like it. I’m learning so many things. I get to go to the gym every night in the barracks, you know I love that.
Hyuk, what are you up to? How is university? Tell me that you’re studying hard so one day we can afford that house we talked about. I’ll see you soon.
I love you,
—Your Hae”
~
“Hae,
I miss your voice. I trace your handwriting to feel close to you. School is difficult. Everything is difficult. I love you. I miss you.
Come home,
-Hyukjae”
Come home. Come home. Come home. Every letter from Hyukjae ended the same way. Please come home to me.
A sudden lull in the mail delivery brought an unsettling, sick feeling to Hyukjae’s stomach.
“Donghae,
It’s almost your birthday. The weather is cooling down here. I know you can’t receive a package, but I have something for you. When you come home, it will be waiting here for you. I love you, please write back soon. I miss hearing from you. Come home soon.
-Hyukjae”
With no response, Hyukjae’s letters became more frantic.
~
“Donghae, please, write back to me. Even if it’s just a word. Please write to me. It’s so cold here. I wish you were here. Please talk to me.
Many ceasefires on the news these days, though I’m sure you’re seeing it all unfold in front of you. They’re saying surrenders are on the horizon. So, you’ll come home soon?
I love you,
-Hyukjae”
~
“Donghae,
It’s me again. Just say anything so I know you’re still here. I’m afraid. Come home to me. I am begging and pleading with the universe and she’s taking her sweet time. I’ll keep waiting.
Talk soon at home,
-Your Hyuk.”
No response for months. No response after the two countries both reached their ceasefire agreement. No response after watching the troops arriving home on the news. That day Hyukjae watched the TV from 3 inches away, scanning every face in the crowd. Thousands of soldiers marching, but none of them were Donghae. Hyukjae of all people would know that face. He never saw it. Would he ever see it again?
It was one thing to scan over the pictures they took together that summer, analyzing the way their lips looked pressed together. The way they stared at each other. The light in their eyes. That could satiate him only temporarily. After a while his mind became clouded. He would never see a new picture, would he? What if he never gets to see what Donghae would look like at 20, or 30, or 50, or as an old man rocking in his chair on the front porch.
It was the silence that pained him most. No closure for broken hearts.
So, all this time, Hyukjae was right. He was always right. Of course things were too good to be true. Love would continue running from him, even if he was so close he could feel his fingertips grazing it. Never close enough to latch his nails down into it.
Years came and went. People from all walks of life approached Hyukjae with artificial compliments and weak pickup lines. His parents always had an array of their friend’s daughters for Hyukjae to choose from. He didn’t want anyone. He didn’t even want himself. All he ever wanted, all he ever could want, was gone.
When his head hit the pillow, the dream was always the same. Hyukjae and Donghae wearing camouflage in the fields, guns too big for them slung over their backs. Donghae’s helmet strap always clipped together while Hyukjae’s always dangled on the sides of his face.
Then they would hear a noise louder than anything they could imagine. Then the smoke. He would reach for Donghae but he wouldn’t be there. He would scream, cry, shooting aimlessly into every direction because whoever had Donghae would have to pay by his hands.
When the smoke cleared, Donghae would be gone. Never a trace. He would never be able to hear his voice once the smoke started to fill the air. Where could he have gone? That was the question Hyukjae would ask over and over but never receive an answer to.
As Hyukjae grew older, his parents fell impatient. He agreed to marry a girl from down the road a ways. She was kind— quite pretty too. Hyukjae didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her. He couldn’t love their kids who had her face. Everything was wrong. They should look so different. They should have Donghae’s eyes, but they don’t.
Even with a ring on his finger, he still did not know love.
Life had to carry on. Hyukjae had a family now, and with his fancy engineering degree he had a lot on his plate at work too. That didn’t stop him from thinking about his old lover, though. Sometimes in public he would see a vague similarity, a bush of thick brown hair or the same pair of sneakers Donghae would always wear to the gym. He would narrow his hopeful eyes and pray to whoever was up there that it would finally be his Donghae. It never was. He eventually realized that so much time had passed he probably wouldn’t recognize Donghae anyway. He didn’t even think any higher power was up there at all. Everything was a lie. Love was a lie.
One day after a double shift at the office, a sleep deprived Hyukjae came home as the sun was starting to rise. The neighborhood mail boy was just riding up to Hyukjae’s house at the same time.
“Mr. Lee! Good morning! We found this letter addressed to you at the post office yesterday. It’s dated 15 years ago, but we thought maybe it was important and wanted to get it to you. Here, sir,” he smiled as he passed the flimsy letter to Hyukjae and sped off on his bike.
Hyukjae ran his fingers over the familiar handwriting, the same way he did all those years ago. His stomach burned like he had swallowed molten lava. Hands trembled as he carefully opened the letter, trying not to tear a single fiber of the paper. The adhesive had grown weak over the many years and he was eventually able to pull out a short, one page letter.
“My Hyukjae!
Tomorrow our platoon is going to travel on a huge steamship across the Pacific. It’s going to be a big delivery mission. I get to stay on the bridge with the captain. They told me my artillery skills are the best in the entire platoon, so they want me front and center.
I’m doing well here, don’t you worry about me.
The mission tomorrow will be an important one. I can’t say too much here, I don’t even know much myself. Look at the local papers, though. It’s the S.S. Champion. Please look for me. There will certainly be photographs of our departure. Maybe you can see me. If you do, cut out an extra copy and send it to my mother!
I love you, my Hyuk-ah. Mine, mine, mine. I’ll be home soon. Study hard.
I love you, I have to say it again. I love you.
-Your Hae”
Hyukjae read the letter once. Twice. Three times. During the fourth he broke down. He neatly folded the letter and put it in his shirt pocket as he wept, even with heightened emotions he didn’t want to do anything to damage it.
He dropped to his knees right there outside the house. His wails went unnoticed in the early hours of the morning. They always went unnoticed, it felt like.
The library was just a short drive downtown. Hyukjae collected himself after several minutes of trying to steady his breathing. His eyes burned as he sped through red lights. He parked sloppily towards the front of the library that still had an hour left until it opened. He sat on the steps with the letter, reading it over and over until he had it memorized. Studied the indentations in the paper from how the pen scraped against it. The swirls connecting Donghae’s letters. He could still hear the boy’s young voice, reading the letter in the cadence he knew Donghae himself would read it with. The last traces of his life were all over this letter. He didn’t even care to curse the post office for holding it all this time. None of it mattered. For the first time in 15 years Hyukjae finally had a new memory of Donghae.
In this moment, it felt like Donghae never left. When Hyukjae read the letter he was 18 again. Donghae was alive and well. They were still in love. Everything was okay.
The librarian ladies arrived to open the doors and saw a frantic Hyukjae shoot up from off the stairs. They glared at him as he slid through the doors and over to the historical section. There, he skimmed the shelves for any book referencing the steamships used in the war. Few books existed yet on historical aspects of the war, due to its recency. There was one, however, that caught Hyukjae’s eye.
“Maritime Disasters of the Never-ending War”
It physically pained Hyukjae to pull the book off the shelf, but he knew what he came here for. Donghae must’ve gotten on that boat, but what if he never got off?
He flipped through the alphabetical tragedies. 113 deceased. 479 deceased. 21 deceased. No survivors. His heart pounded through his chest as he got further into the book, until finally.
“S.S. Champion. Set across the Pacific for a delivery mission. The ship carried medical supplies and ammunition for allied troops on the other side of the ocean.”
Hyukjae slammed the book shut after the first few sentences, using the hardcover to shield his face from passing townsfolk. Tears fell faster than he could count, drenching the collar of his shirt. He knew what the rest of the page would say, but it didn’t mean he wanted to read it.
After a couple moments he flips back to the page and skims over the historical facts about the boats mechanics. Straight to the bottom of the page.
“Struck by enemy missile in open waters. Entire crew deceased on impact, no survivors.”
There it was. The truth Hyukjae spent the past 15 years pretending wasn’t prevalent. The thought in the back of his mind that he had compressed until it was a tiny speck of nothing. Now, all the pressure that went into stifling it has all come bursting out. There it is.
He finally brought his attention to a small photograph on the bottom of the page. A crew of men standing outside the unbelievably large ship. The captain stood in the middle, an older man with a long white beard and a cold stare. Then, to his left, was Donghae. A goofy smile plastered across his face as he stood at attention. The only person in the photograph smiling.
There he was. His Donghae. There he was.
Instead of the cries worsening, the pit in his stomach tightening, the tremor in his hands picking up speed, Hyukjae felt something different. Donghae must’ve stayed up late the night before preparing his final letter to Hyukjae, scribbling as quickly as he could so he could get to bed after a long day of patrol and drills. He must’ve ran to the post office on their base as soon as it opened at dawn. He must’ve been so excited for Hyukjae to see that picture. To know that everything was still okay for a little while longer.
Then, it became clear to Hyukjae that love pumped through Donghae’s veins. Love for him, his Hyuk-ah. Nothing but love until the moment he died. Nothing but love.
There was nothing Hyukjae hated more than being told he was wrong. This time, he reveled in it. He was wrong, thank God he was wrong. Love did not run from him. Love had ran straight towards him.