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The rustling of tree leaves echoes through the narrow streets and shabby houses of the small farming town. The late afternoon sun has colored the old rooftops in a bronze hue. Taerae leaned against the driver’s side door of a silver run-down Hyundai, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. A breeze stirred the grass behind the roadside ditch, and every so often, a bird chirped from the thick crowns of the trees.
He checked his phone. 4:52 PM. Jiwoong was late.
Again.
Taerae didn’t really mind. Not in the way that mattered. He’d been waiting for Jiwoong for three years anyway. A few extra minutes wouldn’t kill him.
As he was about to light the cigarette he had put in his mouth and brought the lighter to it, he heard the familiar sound of shoes on gravel. It made him turn his head, too fast. Too earnest.
Jiwoong came jogging down the slight slope of his parents’ home driveway, a basket in one hand, smile wide and unbothered. His hair was longer now, messier. The kind of mess that looked intentional. City mess.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jiwoong said breathlessly as he stood before Taerae's judging face. “Halmeoni cornered me with strawberries. Swear she threatened my life if I didn’t bring some.”
He lifted the basket in offering, as if it explained everything.
Taerae rolled his eyes but opened the passenger door so Jiwoong could put the basket inside.
“Just don’t eat them in the car,” he muttered, finally lighting the cigarette.
Jiwoong leaned against the car beside him, watching the smoke curl toward the sky. “Still stuck on those?”
“Still stuck on Seoul?” Taerae shot back, too quickly.
Jiwoong blinked at him. “Damn. You really missed me, huh?”
Taerae didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed him the keys. “You’re driving. Let’s see if you remember anything.”
Jiwoong groaned. “Come on, you promised I’d practice driving, not actually do it.”
“I promised to keep you alive. Get in.”
Do you know that feeling of inevitable failure? That’s what Tarae felt while looking out of the window at the cracked asphalt stretching toward the setting sun. The car moved steadily through the countryside roads, the windows cracked, letting in the breeze that smelled like pine and dry summer. Jiwoong gripped the wheel too tightly, chewing on his lip. Taerae leaned against the window, half-listening to the indie playlist Jiwoong had connected from his expensive-looking phone. Taerae’s thoughts were spiraling into very dark places, so he had to distract himself—though not for any other reason—by looking at Jiwoong’s perfect side profile. He looked the same, yet different. All the moles and scars remained the same, but a few new wrinkles had formed around his eyes.
And Taerae hated it. Hated that Jiwoong looked so similar to the Jiwoong who had left three years ago. Left him.
“You’ve changed,” Taerae said suddenly, turning his head away.
Jiwoong laughed. “Good or bad?”
“Not sure yet.”
Jiwoong only snickered in response.
“Remember, you used to drive me to the fields in your dad’s pickup truck. I can’t believe you learn to drive before me.” He shook his head in disbelief, smiling widely, probably reminiscing about old times. “I also remember us lying in the truck bed and watching the night sky. You knew so much about stars and constellations. I used to pretend to enjoy your endless cosmos talk.
“Wow, I’m offended now. Artsy guy like you didn’t appreciate the sight of the night sky?” Taerae teased.
“I preferred the other pretty sight”
Taerae’s breath hitched, a faint heat rising to his cheeks. He didn’t respond. Jiwoong went on.
“Seoul’s been good. Busy, but good. I got lost the first week. Met some weird artists. Shared a flat with a guy who made glass sculptures and never wore pants.”
Taerae snorted, despite himself. “Sounds like your people.”
Jiwoong smiled. “You’d hate it.”
“I don’t know,” Taerae said, tapping the door rhythmically. “I’d probably get along with the sculptures.”
Jiwoong’s grin widened. “You know, I even hooked up with this really hot guy once. Tattooed arms, shaved head. He made me pancakes the next morning.”
The silence was instant.
Taerae stared out the window, his hand curling into a fist on his lap. The thought of Jiwoong spending the night with someone else — someone “hot,” probably godlike, since Jiwoong himself looked like an angel — twisted in his chest. Was this jealousy? How stupid. They weren’t children. Jiwoong obviously had his share of experiences, and so had he. But then, why did it hurt so much?
“Cool,” Taerae said flatly.
Jiwoong glanced sideways. “What?”
“Nothing.”
But Jiwoong was smart. Too smart. “Wait. Are you—”
“I said nothing,” Taerae snapped.
Jiwoong fell silent. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the soft guitar from the speakers.
Eventually, he pulled over by a wide field where the road dipped and flattened into golden grass. He cut the engine without a word.
He hopped out, breathing in deep fresh air. Taerae followed.
Jiwoong took out the strawberries, kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the hood, legs crossed, expression calm.
Taerae stayed standing, lighting another cigarette and facing away.
“You always smoke when you are pissed,” Jiwoong said through a mouthful of fruit. He looked so cute, so childlike. He really didn’t change much. Taerae took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke burn his throat.
He blew out a thin ribbon. “It’s quiet.”
“You could just say you hate it when I talk about guys I’ve kissed.”
The words hung in the air.
“I don’t care,” Taerae muttered, puffing out the smoke.
“You do.”
As Taerae was about to give him another snarky response, Jiwoong laughed gently. “I missed this.”
“Shut up.”
“No, you,” Jiwoong said as he pushed a strawberry into Taerae’s mouth, waiting for him to part his lips. Taerae obeyed, tasting the sweetness of the berry and brushing his lips ever so slightly against Jiwoong’s fingers, all while staring straight into his eyes. Jiwoong’s face immediately turning red, though he was quick to avert his gaze and busy himself with the important task of picking the next strawberry from the basket.
“We need to go before the sun goes down. I’ll drive,” Taerae said sharply, turning toward the car and reaching for the door handle. But it wouldn't budge. The door was stuck—completely closed.
“Jiwoong?” Taerae glanced back, his voice edged with frustration. Jiwoong looked up at him with all the innocence in his big brown eyes. “Don’t tell me you left the keys inside?”
Jiwoong only offered a sheepish smile, fingers stained a vivid strawberry red. Taerae pushed his hands through his hair, exhaling heavily.
“So… are we stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a basket of strawberries?” he asked, voice tinged with exasperation.
“Well, actually, there are no strawberries left,” Jiwoong replied softly, a hint of apology in his tone.
Taerae exhaled again, lighting another cigarette. Jiwoong shifted his feet awkwardly.
“But, I really missed this. I missed my family, this town, these fields…” Silence fell too suddenly. “I missed you.”
Taerae turned to him, eyes dark. “Then why did you leave?”
Jiwoong blinked.
“You left and didn’t even text for six months,” Taerae continued, voice low. “Then suddenly you’re back, all new and glowing, talking about hot guys and glass sculptures like we didn’t grow up next door.”
“I didn’t think you’d—”
“You didn’t think about me at all.”
This was harsh, Taerae thought. But that single sentence encompassed exactly what he’d been thinking all this time — what he was feeling, what he’d been hating, what he’d been regretting.
Jiwoong slid off the hood slowly, standing in front of him now.
“That’s not fair.”
Taerae looked away. He spat the cigarette down on the pavement and stubbed it out with his precious new pair of Converse.
He felt warmth on his forearm, slowly sliding down to his wrist. He didn’t move. Jiwoong’s fingers brushed the back of his palm, as if asking for permission to hold it. Taerae still didn’t move. Then came a tug on his wrist, then another.
“We both know it’s not true.” Jiwoong’s voice was velvet against his earlobe, his breath sweet with strawberries. Too sweet, too fragile. Taerae hated that he wanted to taste it. He wanted to crush it, to smash it, to chew it out. But he also wanted to hold it, to cherish it. Both things were impossible—just like him and Jiwoong. Jiwoong, with another life in the city, pursuing dreams and career. And Taerae, stuck in their hometown with nothing of his own.
But then came another tug, and Taerae exhaled. He turned around. Way faster than he intended.
He felt something wet at the corner of his eyes. What was this? He never cried. Not when Jiwoong left their town. Not when he lay in bed for a week, refusing to go out or eat.
Jiwoong was about to let go before Taerae suddenly charged forward. Jiwoong braced himself for a punch, eyes squeezing shut—yet what came was heavier than a fist. Taerae’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. Jiwoong could hear their heartbeats singing and smell the stench of cigarettes.
They stood like this as the sun was sliding behind the curtains of lonely standing mountains.
“Then”—Taerae whispered, “Please…”
Jiwoong’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Taerae met his eyes. There was no cigarette now, only trembling fingers.
“Please don’t leave me again.”
Jiwoong’s mouth opened, some soft answer forming—but it never came.
Taerae surged forward.
His hands grabbed Jiwoong’s collar, pushing him back until his spine hit the cool metal of the car. He kissed him like he’d been holding his breath for years. Jiwoong could taste the bitterness of cigarettes and the sweetness of strawberries melting on their tongues. They were dancing in a crazy dance, struggling to catch a breath. Lips and teeth clashing. Taerae’s hands were sliding all over Jiwoong’s hips and abdomen, and Jiwoong’s wandered just the same.
Taerae’s hands moved up Jiwoong’s ribs, under the thin summer shirt, mapping skin he’d dreamed of but never touched. Jiwoong arched into it, one leg hooked around Taerae’s, their bodies slotting like puzzle pieces.
The sun had dipped fully below the mountains. The field was dark now, sky deep purple.
They didn’t stop.
Not until distant headlights flickered at the edge of the road.
The headlights grew closer, slow and winding like they didn’t belong to someone in a rush. Jiwoong pulled back first, breathing heavy, lips swollen. His eyes searched Taerae’s face like he was trying to make sense of what just happened.
“Taerae…”
But Taerae didn’t say anything. His forehead rested against Jiwoong’s, breath brushing against his cheek. His hands were still gripping Jiwoong’s waist, as if letting go might undo all of it.
The approaching car honked once, lightly.
They both flinched.
Taerae stepped back. Jiwoong’s hands slid off him reluctantly.
An old truck pulled up beside them. Mr. Park from their hometown's gas station leaned out, squinting at the two of them with a lazy smile.
“Well, if it isn’t the city boy and the speed demon. Locked yourselves out?”
Jiwoong cleared his throat, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Something like that.”
Taerae didn’t speak. He just nodded and moved toward the truck without looking back.
Jiwoong lingered for a moment longer by the car, fingers brushing the spot where Taerae had touched him.
Then he followed.
As they climbed into the truck bed, sitting side by side but not touching, the sky above them was filling with stars. The road back home stretched out ahead—quiet, curved, and unknown.
Neither of them said a word.
But Taerae glanced sideways, and Jiwoong was already looking at him.