Une soirée 

Introduction: 

The following happenings will be narrated in five acts. It’s a stage play without an actual stage, it’s a comedy in a sense that has less to do with laughing and more to do with it not being a tragedy. It’s a story of growth, of adulthood that blooms through misunderstandings and, sometimes, pain. By the rules of its comedic genre, it ends on a positive note. 

If you are to believe that such things do not happen in real life, you’re welcome, reader, to imagine yourself sitting in the comfortable velvet chair of a theatre platea . Now, let the curtain rise.

UNE SOIRÉE 

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

KIM TAERAE

SEOK MATTHEW

KANG SOMIN (The Party Boy)

HWANG YUNSEO (The Informer)

Prologue 

A month prior to the events of this fateful night, Kim Taerae  —  twenty-something engineer from Seoul, South Korea  —  received an unexpected invitation to a party. The scene went something like this. 

Kim Taerae’s phone vibrates on the table it’s laying on. It’s a text message, at first. And then another one. And a third. And so on and so forth. Kim Taerae was cutting up vegetables in a tiny, ill-lit kitchen. He spares it a perplexed glance, but he still goes on to finish cutting a bell pepper, throwing it into a sizzling pan, before he washes his hands and then picks up his phone. 

His screen casts a bluish haze into the kitchen. He opens his notifications and  —  a-ha  —  finds out he’s been added to a new group chat. Its name,  ominous, is graduation dinner . 

Kim Taerae frowns, he’s not heard from the group admin in ages: Kang Somin . They used to attend university together. But then, Kang Somin stayed in the army longer than the mandatory months, pushing back his graduation. And, finally, he made it. He’s an engineer just like the rest of their classmates. 

Kang So Min

I created this group chat to invite you all to the dinner I’ll be hosting for my graduation. It’ll be on Friday, three weeks from now. 

Let me know if you’ll be there. And if you want to bring over your +1s. 

[Classmate]

Yay! Somin!!!! Congratulations!!!! I’ll be there :D 

[Classmate]

I can’t make it, but congratulations!!!

[Classmate]

Count me in!!! Me and my wife will be there! 

The messages keep coming in like crazy. Kang Somin must have invited a lot of people, there’s so many users in this group chat that Taerae can’t even make it to the end of the list. 

It’s a storm of texts from numbers he hasn’t saved on his phone. 

Until. 

Matt

Oh, Somin! Congratulations on graduating! I’ll be there! 

Taerae drops his phone on top of the table. He makes sure it didn’t break or anything, and then he reads that message again. Matt . He goes again to check the list of people in this group, and sure Matthew is right there. 

Taerae taps something on his phone, then he sends a text in the group chat. 

Kim Tae Rae

I’ll be there, too. Congrats, mate!

He also opens the chat with Matthew. Their last message is from two and a half months ago; it says:

Matt

Just landed in Vancouver. Thanks for driving me earlier. You didn’t have to, when I’d just dumped you.

ACT I

Scene 1

At a crowded party. 

Kang Somin didn’t spare any money for this celebration. The party hall is filled with a lot of tables and chairs, and it’s looking more like a wedding banquet than a graduation party. There’s a hanging garland spelling Somin’s name and Happy graduation . And there’s photos of him in ridiculous situations all over the walls. 

People’s outfits are very varied, some girls are wearing dresses and heels, some of the guys are in plain t-shirts. 

Kim Taerae walks in  —  on his own  —  and he’s one of the people who didn’t put too much thought in what he’s wearing. He’s donning jeans and one of his most normal sweaters, and he’s navigating through the small groups of guests as if he’s taking part in some lonely dance. 

It’s inevitable that he gets stopped by someone, and then it’s a barrage of questions and inquiries, that other people would call small talk, but for Kim Taerae it's utter torture.

“Oh my, Kim Taerae,” an elegant young woman stops him. “How long has it been? How are you?”

He looks left and right, trying to find an escape. “Han Jimin, hello!” he greets back. “I’m doing fine, nothing to complain about. How about you?” 

“Oh, I’m getting married in three months,” she replies. “I’ve also had a good promotion at work, so I guess I have nothing to complain about, too.” 

“Great,” Taerae sounds a bit off. “It’s great to hear, it’s good to see you again.”

“Did you just arrive?” she goes on. “There’s incredible prosecco to have at the bar, you should give it a go.”

It’s a great out. “I should definitely try it, then,” he smiles. And he takes his leave, with a nice bow of his head. He takes a sigh, the first conversation is over with. 

Not two steps later, a tall man puts a hand on his shoulder. “Taerae?!” the man exclaims. “I almost didn’t recognize you, blonde! Such a bold choice!”

Taerae is smiling, if a bit rigid. “It’s been a while, you never keep up with me, Minhyun hyung.” 

“Is this the way to speak to your sunbae?” Minhyun jokes. “How’s it going, though? Are you still working at that automotive company?”

Taerae nods, it’s an emphatic gesture. He’s animated. “Yes, yes. I’ve been working there for a while now. It’s a good job.”

“Glad to hear you like your job,” Minhyun concludes. It’s followed by a beat of silence. 

Then, Taerae goes on. “How about you?”

The rest of the conversation is a blur. A job, a family that should start soon, the want for a career advancement. And Taerae is told to go and get something to drink before they start serving dinner. And he moves on. 

“Kim Taerae, do you still sing in that band?” It’s a woman with short hair and a red blouse talking. She’s got a few other people with her, they’re all in an almost straight line before Taerae. 

“Ah,” he shrugs. “No, with my job I’ve had to let it go.” His smile is still there, it feels plastic. It feels like a mask.

“Such a pity,” she says. “I’ve decided to let go of my office job and focus entirely on painting.”

“Well, her husband owns an art gallery,” another woman in the group remarks. “He was so supportive of you, Minah.”

“Oh, absolutely. The best thing I needed in a husband,” she jokes. “Aside from his money.”

Taerae is silent. Until the second woman asks him about his plans for marriage. 

“Well,” Minah smirks. “Don’t you remember he dates men?” 

“Ah, sorry, right. Then good luck!” And Taerae is invited to try the amazing cocktails at the bar, and he’s still empty handed, because every step he tries to take towards the bar is sidetracked by someone asking him about something they aren’t really interested in, and using it as an excuse to tell him all about their great jobs, their great families and partners. And Taerae never reaches the bar. 

Scene 2

Waiting for his drink to be poured, Taerae leans against the bar, looking at the party attendees.

The bartender is taking his time, so Taerae is allowed a moment to catch his breath. He has a lot on his mind, and, as he looks idly at the people moving around them (it feels like they’re almost a soundless, faded, background to his actions), his thoughts wander. 

Look at that woman right there! She’s wearing a pair of earrings that cost as much as a car. And she’s mindlessly shaking her head, without a care that she might so much as scratch those prized stones. And look at how the man beside her  —  they have matching rings, they’re wedding bands, he’s her husband  —  doesn’t even look at her, as he only has eyes for his peers. She might go and say that she’s happy with him, that he gives her great gifts. But is that happiness? Not to be seen, not to be included, being always one step behind  —  is that happiness? She’ll say she’s happy being a wife. And that’s one label, one definition, maybe it’s a bit of a cage. 

Everyone mentioned their career (what a joy, to move forward in a field you broke your back to work in), everyone mentioned family, houses, new cars, new watches, new jewelry. They did ask “How are you?” yet there hasn’t been any real discussion about how people really are . Just what they do. What they project outwards from themselves. 

And he’s been replying in kind. His job, his apartment, his mother, his father, his sister. The money, why not? It’s all about that, after all. This whole party is all about money. The money you already have, the money you will have to make. 

No, that’s wrong. It’s not just about money. It’s about roles. They’re all playing a role, like puppets on strings, like masked actors occupying a stage, stationing in the exact spots they rehearsed and that were marked for them in white tape over black linoleum. Whatever they do looks plastic, a wax statue of a life. And whatever they say sounds empty. It echoes back. 

And where does he fit on this crowded proscenium? He’s actually on the side, and it’s not just now, is it? He’s been on the side. Not wanting to mix too much, not wanting to catch the same illness they’re all displaying. 

He did try. All his life, he’s tried. And then it became a vain effort  —  get a respectable job, he did it. He wanted that job, he likes cars, but he hates offices, he hates dress shirts and leather shoes. He wanted that apartment in that high rise, but it sounds so lifeless with no one else around and with no one to play music with. He wanted to fit in. Yet they all share those things about their lives (promotions, weddings, children, loans) and he only thinks that he gave up so much to be here. And it was not worth it. 

“Sir, your drink,” the bartender finally says. Taerae wishes it didn’t taste as sweet as it does.

Scene 3

Back to the main party scene. 

Some music is playing softly from the speakers. It’s catchy, but not quite wild. Most glasses are half empty, by now, and who’s to say how many rounds people have had. 

“Hey, it’s an open bar, it’s only fair,” the man next to Taerae half shouts. “Kang Somin takes good care of us!”

“He’s the best!” another one says. 

“Did you know that he bought his fiancée a diamond?” a girl asks. 

“He proposed?” It’s the first man, again. 

“No!” A giggle, from the girl. “It was a birthday present!” 

“Oh, to be rich,” sighs the second man. 

“Here’s to becoming rich!” The first man raises his glass. A toast. “Or to marrying rich!”

“To being happy,” Taerae quietly counters. “And loved.” If they’re sharing unrealizable wishes.

There’s some commotion. A few ooh s and aah s from groups near the entrance. People start craning their necks. Taerae doesn’t even have to move. It’s almost as if the crowd parts just right for him to see who just came to the party. It’s like there’s a beam illuminating the man who just walked through the door. 

“Matthew!” someone exclaims, flinging themselves right in front of  —  well, Matthew. 

Their voices travel, they carry really well. Weird, in such a crowded room. “Where are you coming from?” 

“It’s been so long!”
“You said you’d be here, but no one expected you to actually come!” 

They’re all swarming to him. Taerae isn’t. He’s standing exactly where he was. They all move past him. 

“You were in Canada?” 

“What’s Canada like, I’ve never been-”

“How was the flight?”

“What a great friend you are, so devoted!”

“You must be tired, exhausted!”

Taerae watches this, he’s silent. He’s motionless. Until he moves, in the opposite direction from all the other people. He speaks almost to himself, since he’s alone right where he is. “They’re like flies getting stuck in honey,” he says. “I was like that, too.”

It’s hard to know if it’s all in his head or the people are really moving in a choreographed form of torture, everyone gravitating towards Seok Matthew, who just showed up and is smiling at every single person  —  charming, attractive, kind and polite. His smile is the most noticeable thing in the room, and Taerae  —  even from the opposite side  —  is somewhat in the spotlight, too. They’re two extremes of a single segment, a straight line, empty of people, separating them. The fact that Matthew is still surrounded by people (every single one excited to meet him) is the only thing that’s delaying the inevitable. 

The last two people talking to Matthew move back, when he tells them ( so politely, who could ever be offended by him?): “I’d love to go and say hi to Kang Somin, would you excuse me?”

And then it happens. He sees Taerae. Both frozen, for a short interval, while the world around them keeps spinning. People go back to moving, chatting, to filling the space between Taerae and Matthew. Yet, the two of them are the only motionless people. It can’t be too long, yet it’s a slow-motioned thing. When Matthew takes a step towards him, Taerae tries to see if there is a way out for him. But he’s backed up against the bar.

Then, Matthew takes another step, and another until they’re face to face. 

“Hello,” Matthew says. 

“So you came,” Taerae replies. 

“So did you.” It’s not said unkindly. But it’s not too soft either. 

“I wasn’t on the other side of an ocean,” Taerae shrugs. 

Matthew sighs. He moves to the bar. “What should I drink?”

Scene 4 

Moving across the party hall 

The noise around them is endless and it envelopes them again. They’re just walking side by side, although they haven’t discussed whether they’re going to find seats next to each other or just separate when people start sitting down. They’re saying hi to people they still have not greeted, and it is impressive how crowded this party actually is. 

Completely by chance, three people step in between them, forcing them apart, the weird choreography from before twisting so that they’re no longer pushed towards one another, but removed. Taerae is now facing two people he had not talked to since the last University Reunion they had, months and months ago. 

“Hey, man,” his classmate says. “You look great tonight.” It has to be a lie. 

“You look great, too,” Taerae doesn’t have to lie. The man in front of him is the epitome of handsomeness. He’s tall, he’s clad in an elegant suit and his hair is out of his face. 

“Ha!” the other man barks. “Careful, your boyfriend will be jealous.”

A moment of silence. 

“He’s not,” Taerae starts. He stops mid-sentence, however. He cannot see Matthew, he cannot get his input on how to go about this. “He’s not the type to be jealous,” he settles for. It used to be true, after all. 

The second classmate has a disbelieving expression. “Is that why you came separately?” Pause. “Is it an open thing, what is it like?”

Taerae falters. He feels like he’s center stage, all lights on him  —  maybe not so much as on an actual stage, maybe more like in a police raid. “He just flew back from Canada.” It’s the truth, once again. It won’t hurt anyone. “I was, clearly, already in the city.”

“Oh, was he away for a long time?” the first classmate inquires. 

Taerae does not want to get into this, he tries to get a hold of Matthew, tries to see if he can wiggle out of this conversation with any excuse. He cannot. “Yes, a bit,” he says. Three months. 

“He still works with social media, right?” Why is this conversation so focused on Matthew?

“Yup,” Taerae tries to smile. He fails. “The company is formally Korean, though,” he adds details, though not enthusiastically. 

“Must be nice to know he’ll always come back, then, huh?” 

Taerae has never known such a thing. “It’s especially nice to know people have as much free will as they want.” 

“Shady,” is the second classmate’s comment. “Do you feel like you have too little free will at your company?”

World stop. Taerae tries to laugh it off. “I design cars,” he says, a bit strained. “Who wouldn’t enjoy that?”

“Yeah, no,” the same man comments. “You were always totally in love with cars.”

“Anyway, aren’t we stealing you from your Matthew who just flew back from another continent?” the other one steps in. “What a weird choice to come to Somin’s grad party when you just reunited.” And then they walk away. 

Taerae hesitates to move right back to Matthew’s side. This allows someone else to start talking to him. The conversation flies a bit over Taerae’s head. He replies to the questions, but he isn’t putting his heart into it. It’s almost background noise. Until the woman talking to him asks him to “Say hi to your lovely boyfriend for me, will you?”

“Alright,” he says. And then the phrase echoes through his head forever: your lovely boyfriend. 

And another phrase joins it: I’m moving back to Canada, I think we should just end things . 

Your lovely boyfriend.

We should just end things.

Your lovely 

End things

Boyfriend

I think

Scene 5

Starting in the middle of the party, moving then towards the outskirts. 

“You know,” Taerae starts off a bit strong, maybe. He’s suddenly more decisive than he’s been the whole night. He’s standing right in between Matthew and one of the people talking to him. He’s trying not to put a hand on Matthew’s arm, to keep some resemblance of distance. “I haven’t even said hi to you properly.”

He keeps going. “You just came back.” And, “Let’s step aside for a quick second.”

He addresses the other people around them, none of them too shocked by this outburst. “I’ll steal Matthew for a second,” Taerae says. And, finally, his hand closes around Matthew’s wrist. 

The surprising thing, maybe, is that Matthew follows quietly, without protests, just a quick smile towards the rest of their group, just a shrug and a curious expression.

They take as many steps as it takes to get out from the big crowd gathered in the middle of the party. The area of the hall where Taerae decides to stop is not quite well-lit, which is possibly the reason why no one is standing there. They’re truly alone, for the first time in months. 

“Well?” Matthew prompts Taerae to get it over with. To finally say why he dragged him all the way here. “I don’t think you really wanted to say hi . You’ve never been one for pleasantries.”

Taerae is taken aback, not because the statement isn’t true, mainly because Matthew’s words sting, they touch a place that carries a wound that hasn’t completely scarred over yet. So it takes him a while longer than usual to put together a decent enough answer. “They don’t know,” he starts. What an awful start. “I mean, they don’t know that we broke up.”

Matthew has the decency to look confused. “They’re your friends.”

“They went to university with me,” Taerae points out. “I never see them. I haven’t seen them since…”

“So does this mean that Somin doesn’t know?” Matthew pales a bit. “He invited me without knowing.”

“Yeah, I assume,” Taerae sighs. “What do we do?”

Matthew looks at him with too much focus. It’s uncomfortable. “Well, you cannot tell them now.”

“Out of the question, unless we want to be all that’s talked about.”

“Obviously,” Matthew agrees. “And maybe you don’t need to tell them ever. How often do you see them, anyway?”

“Pretty much never,” Taerae shrugs. 

“So why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” Taerae echoes, quickly. “They studied with me, not with you.”

“But they like me,” Matthew never spares any weapon. “I’m a wonder to them, your international lover, an exotic sight. Something to talk about. You, dating a man and a foreigner at once.”

It’s true. It’s always been like that. These people are only ever interested in this kind of logic. 

“I’m here,” Taerae relents, “because Kang Somin’s graduation had some shady developments and I hoped someone knew something.”

Matthew smiles. It’s bright and honest and Taerae thinks that it’s unfair. It’s like everyone should be looking at that smile, and nothing else. “I knew you had some real reason,” he says. 

“Yeah, but what about you?” Taerae looks right at him as he asks. “What would you have done if I didn’t come?”

Matthew’s smile falls. “Well, you said you’d come,” he shrugs. Taerae remembers the order of the texts in that group chat. “And I’m here to say hi to some people, just that.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Taerae says, and it’s an easy phrase. There’s no rage in it. It’s just a fact: Matthew just lied and it was easy to spot it. However, he doesn’t press on the matter. “So, about tonight. Let’s not make any scene, okay?”

Matthew rolls his eyes. “We never made any scene,” he says. And it’s true. It was all very civilized. Too civilized, maybe. “But okay, we’re going to act as normal, tonight.”

“ Just tonight,” Taerae clarifies. 

“Only tonight,” Matthew convenes. 

“Shake on it?” Taerae extends a hand. 

Matthew grabs it, shakes it. Then he pulls Taerae into a hug. “Didn’t you tell them you wanted to say hi to your boyfriend you missed so much?”

It takes a while for Taerae to let go. Too long. “Enough,” he says, finally. “Let’s survive this.”

“Drama queen,” Matthew smiles at him. “It’ll be fun.”

“It won’t.”

ACT II  

Scene 1

Tables are being organized for dinner. A group of people is gathering towards the doors. 

The music has been dying down, turning to a mellow background that is surely more suitable to act as background for a dignified dinner. Dignified , however, is an interesting word in this context. Everyone is convinced that they’re the epitome of dignity, here to brag about their respectable jobs, their families, their big houses. Yet, Taerae is visibly uncomfortable in such a setting. 

Hanging at the edges of the crowd, he’s still standing quite close to Matthew, who doesn’t look completely relaxed either. They’re both clearly still thinking about the conversation they just had, it’s not something you can move on so quickly, and the people at this party must be noticing it, because they avoid them, moving past them, leaving them alone as if they send ultrasound communications telling people they don’t really want to talk. 

“Do you think,” Matthew starts after a while, “that we were just too naive?”

It’s out of the blue, it’s the product of a train of thought he hasn’t shared until now, and that should be retrieved, explored, explained. Taerae tries to ask, but someone stops right in front of them: “Hey, so, have you talked to Yunseo- Hwang Yunseo, he’s right there.”

It’s Matthew who reacts faster. “He’s the one gathering all the attention?”

True to his words, there’s considerable movement towards where this man is. People come, then they go, and they are all whispering to each other, the clear symptoms of a rumour being spread. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” she smiles. “And I promise you it’s very much worth it,” she adds. 

Leaving them, she also leaves the atmosphere a bit heavier, the urgency of taking a decision hanging over Matthew and Taerae like a dark cloud on a gloomy day. “It’s going to be about Somin, right?” 

“I guess?” Taerae replies, not too convinced. If anything, knowing more about the graduate’s life is going to bring some life into this party which, so far, has only been barely tolerable. “I told you, I’d like to know more about what happened with him.”

“So let’s go,” Matthew shrugs. “And on the way there, you fill me in on what I’m missing.”

The “way there” is not too long, yet Taerae manages to cram a detailed explanation, spoken as fast as he can, in the short steps to where Hwang Yunseo is. “So, you know how he abandoned his studies for a bit while he was in the military, and he stayed in the army longer than strictly necessary because it looked like he wanted a career there?” 

Matthew nods. “So, when he decided he was done with that, he went back to uni. But, they say that he actually left the army after deserting.” 

“What?”

“Yeah. Now, I don’t think that’s true, because, on the contrary, he kept collaborating with them while developing his thesis. So, it’s unlikely that happened. However , it’s still hard to understand why he didn’t stay within the army and enrolled in one of the army-backed universities if he was going to keep working with them.”

“Okay, makes sense. Go on.”

“So, my own theory is that he’s gotten engaged to the daughter of someone producing stuff for the army, decided that his engineering degree would be of use in that setting, brokered a deal between all these parties and stepped back from active service to-”

“To profit off the production of supplies without endangering himself,” Matthew concludes. 

“Yes!” It’s always been easy to run ideas back and forth with Matthew. It used to be exciting for Taerae to have someone who got him so easily, so effortlessly. 

“Okay, so,” Matthew sounds excited, too. “Do we- do you think that Hwang Yunseo knows something more? Like, maybe at least if this interesting business thing is true?”

“I don’t know,” Taerae shrugs. “But the only way we will know is by listening to what he has to say.”

“And if it’s not about that?”

Taerae stops. They’re so close to Hwang Yunseo now. “We have the rest of the night to find out, right?”

Taerae wasn’t wrong. Not one hundred percent, at least. Turns out, it wasn’t Somin’s fiancée who acted as the link between Somin’s new job position and the army, but an uncle of his who suddenly called him to work for his mechanical-parts factory. “His uncle,” Hwang Yunseo is saying, “got him his job, a directorial position and, in turn, Kang Somin got his uncle a deal with the army.” 

“Isn’t that, like, illegal?” It’s voiced by a short girl in a green dress. 

“It’s probably not illegal,” Hwang Yunseo goes on. “But it’s not as linear and straightforward as it sounds, either.”

Matthew looks elated. It’s taking everything out of Taerae not to stare at his smile too much. So he turns his head the other way quite violently.

“But how did he get so much influence within the army?” Matthew whispers to Taerae. And that’d be an interesting question, but Kang Somin himself is walking towards them. 

Matthew is suddenly looping his arm around Taerae’s, hanging off him like he never traveled to another continent after breaking his heart. And Taerae is standing there, rigid, stiff like he has a gun pointed to his temple. “Relax a bit,” Matthew hisses. “He’s the fucking host of all this.”

“You’re too close,” Taerae says, and he didn’t want to say it. 

“I’m here as your plus one, just deal with it.” Matthew elbows him into a less plastic pose. And, after this, Somin is in front of them. 

“Hello! Oh, my god! It’s been so long!” Kang Somin starts. 

“Congratulations once again!” Taerae is now smiling, it’s natural enough to look real. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Somin asks. “Is everything okay? Dinner will start soon, I hope you're hungry enough.”

Matthew laughs about it, tightening his grip on Taerae’s arm. “I am so hungry,” he says. “I could eat a person.”

“As long as it’s not me,” Taerae can’t help but say. It elicits a raised eyebrow from Kang Somin and a roar of laughter from Matthew. “Anyway, I’ve heard that your thesis was liked by everyone,” Taerae goes on, unbothered.

“Oh, yeah. I mean,” Kang Somin looks insanely proud. “It was well received, the results were very promising and the prototypes I came up with will be further developed, so I’m truly happy.” Who wouldn’t be? “But what about you? You’re still working on those engines, right?”

“Ah,” Taerae’s mood sours. “Yeah.”

“I’ve never met anyone as passionate about engines as your Taerae, you know?” Kang Somin addresses Matthew. 

“Ha,” Matthew barks. “When I tell you it’s not even his biggest passion!”

Taerae frowns. But Somin beats him to the question. “Really?”

“You should have seen him in his band,” Matthew says. 

“That was years ago,” Taerae cuts in. “You barely saw me in a band,” he tells Matthew. “We weren’t even together, wouldn’t be for a long time.”

“But you showed me the pictures,” Matthew points out. 

“Do you have these pictures?” Kang Somin investigates. 

“No,” they both reply at once. 

And then Taerae goes on, “They’re at home.”

“But there’s a lot of videos, too,” Matthew adds. “They were a good band.”

“Nothing exceptional,” Taerae cuts it off. “Anyway, this is such an irrelevant thing when you’ve just graduated, Somin hyung!” He steers the conversation back to its place. “We were so happy when we got your text.”

“Yeah!” Matthew echoes. “We were.” He doesn’t sound as lighthearted as he usually does. “I thought it was a great occasion to see you all again.” At this, Somin smiles, but his attention is already on a few other people he wants to greet. He’s quick to leave. 

Scene 2

Taerae and Matthew facing each other. 

They’re still in the same spot, in the wake of the dreadful conversation they had with Kang Somin. The silence is heavy, a stale moment that seems to stretch onward forever. 

Until Matthew speaks. “Is there anyone else at this party you need updates on?” He asks.

It leaves Taerae a bit speechless. “Are you asking if I’m looking for more gossip, but about other people?”

“Yeah, basically.” Matthew says it without too much conviction. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Taerae considers the question. Lets it hang in the dry space between them. “Is that why we both came to this party?” He doesn’t let Matthew answer, though. “Are we just here to catch up on what’s up with people, to spread news about them to the other people we know  —  while they do the same with us?”

“I do think it’s mutual, yeah,” Matthew says, pensive. “It’s reasonable to think that just as we’re curious to learn what’s happened to these people in all these months, they’d be wondering the same about us.”

“But is it curiosity?” Taerae asks. “Is it truly curiosity or is it a more vicious thing? Like, I’m not as curious to know what happened to these people’s lives as I am about  —  I don’t know  —  you. It’s a different thing. Knowing things about them feels like gathering ammunition for a war I don’t really feel like taking part in.”

Matthew hesitates. “You came to this party, though,” he says. “Because you are taking part in this thing.”

It’s true. Yet, Taerae has thought about the inconsistency of this before. “Last night,” he starts. “I wondered if coming to this party was worth it. If subjecting myself to the horrors of seeing these people again would give me something in return.”

“And?”

“And the conclusion I came to was awful,” he admits. “Because I thought that if I showed up I could have some control over the narrative, while if I stayed home like I actually wanted to they would have still talked about me, but I would have had no idea what the damage would have been.”

Matthew is frowning. “You’re really dealing with this as if it’s a war,” he says. “And I see your point, because these people are…”

“Fake?”

“Obsessed with appearances, I’d have said,” Matthew goes on. He’s smiling, though. “And you’re not, but you’re one to worry about what people say. And it makes a stressful combination, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a bit hard to digest that you still assume you know what I’m like,” he says. It’s been weighing on his mind since earlier. “You’ve gone and left for Canada months ago and you come back and you think you can go and tell people about my hobbies, tell me what I care about. It’s not right.”

Matthew nods. At least he’s listening. “Fair,” he relents. “Let’s go back to how you don’t want people to talk behind your back, then.”

“It’s not even that ,” Taerae accepts the assist. “It’s more like… why do we have to care if people got a promotion at work or not? If they’re marrying up? If their partner has money? If their company is the most successful in their area of business? Shouldn’t other stuff be more important?”

Matthew waits to reply, he’s thinking about how to say what he’s thinking. “You’re not forced to keep their pace,” he finally says. “You got your degree, you have your job. You can live life as you please, you know that, right?”

Taerae sighs, again. It’s a loud one. “It’s easier said than done,” he says. “People will always keep their eye on you, whatever you do. And becoming good at ignoring their opinion is not easy, at least for me.” He pauses. “If I actually did what I want to do, if I left a lot of people behind, wouldn’t they dislike me? Judge me? Wouldn’t I obsess over it all the time? Would it be worth it?”

Matthew stares at him right in the eyes. “If the people who dislike you are people you hate, does it really matter what they think?”

“It’s not that simple,” Taerae says. 

“I know,” Matthew replies. “But I don’t like how a significant part of adult life has to be devoted to playing nice to people who don’t really care about us. I don’t like how we need to bend ourselves to fit into boxes we didn’t mold, we don’t get to mold. And I don’t like how trying to be ourselves is seen as an act of betrayal.” He stops. “I think that we’re actually betraying ourselves by not rebelling against this.”

“What a poet,” Taerae jokes. 

“Yet you were the one who wrote songs,” Matthew shrugs. He falters a bit, before he asks: “You mentioned you were curious about me. Is that- still true? I can-”

He gets cut off by one of the waiters. “If you don’t mind, dinner is about to get served. I’d invite you to take your seats.”

Scene 3

At the dinner table; Matthew and Taerae aren’t sitting close together, rather they’re sitting at two different ends of the same table. 

Matthew is in full swing. It’s the right way to phrase it, because he’s a party himself. He’s surrounded by people who are eagerly listening to his tales, and he’s shining.

“We would walk the family dog every morning,” he’s saying, “And she’s so fond of the milkman.”

“Oh wow ,” a girl chimes in. “An actual milkman like in the movies!”

“Do you also get the newspaper delivered to your door every morning?” Another one says. 

“My family is subscribed to online newspapers,” Matthew comments, promptly. He’s got a smile that runs at a thousand Watts. This is his element: being surrounded by those who want to keep their attention on him, being adored, being idolized. “So, no.”

A swift round of laughter. “And,” the man sitting in front of him asks. “How was your work, since your company is still technically here in Korea?”

Taerae tunes out of this conversation. It’s a struggle to listen to it, anyway. So, he starts eavesdropping on the exchange going on next to him, where the woman sitting to his left is talking to the one sitting in front of her. They’re discussing the plans for their (yet unborn and non-existent) children. “I was thinking that, once I settle down, I should also evaluate which neighborhoods have the best schools, so that the kids will not have to commute too much to get there, you know?”

“Definitely,” the other one agrees. “But you should also factor in sports and academies. Both things should be featured in their life-”

Taerae has nothing to offer to the conversation, except for the sour observation he shares in a half breath: “When did we become so adult?”

It must be loud enough, however, that the woman sitting next to him turns to face him with a raised eyebrow. “That was always going to happen, though, wasn’t it?” she says, gently. “We would graduate, find a job and then get married, start families. It’s the way life goes.”

She’s not wrong, actually. “Yet,” Taerae ponders, “we’re all moving at different paces, so what if this doesn’t really happen to everyone? What if some get left behind?”

“If you’re afraid of that,” says the other woman, “then you should start trying to catch up. It’s not late.”

Taerae doesn’t feel like this is a good answer. “Life can’t be lived like a rush,” he rebukes. “You need to take your time, figure things out, savor-”

“If you live like that, you wake up one day and it’s too late to do anything,” the woman goes on, sure of her own words. “It’s the truth, even if it’s harsh. You need to work every day for a life you will not regret on any of its sides. If you think that things will fix themselves, that’s never going to happen and you will have to live unhappily for the rest of your time.”

It’s not so easy. “So what if you realize that you’re walking on the wrong path?” Taerae asks. “What if you realize that a lot of the choices you made were wrong for you? What if you realize it late?”

“That’s something that doesn’t happen to people in our line of work, Taerae-oppa,” she says, with too much surety and too much familiarity. “That’s for people with unfulfilled lives.”

He wants to tell her that it’s happening to him, and that yes, his life is just like that: empty. But he doesn’t. He looks away for a brief second, then he goes back to the conversation with a smile and a different disposition. “Enough of such bleak talk,” he says. “I heard you bought a new house, Sara-ssi?”

Scene 4

At the dining table, everyone is eating. 

The evening goes on, borderline boring. People are all chatting among themselves, no one excluded. It’s not the highest point of fun, but it’s a polite environment of educated people having dinner. 

A few people are moving around the table, going to have a little chat with other friends than those they’re sitting next to. It’s a chaotic dance that moves as naturally as tides, coming and going, organic and never forced. 

Matthew, too, takes part in this flow, now closer and now farther from Taerae. Until he stops right next to Taerae, a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer to him. It makes Taerae’s heart skip a beat, not that anyone could spot it from the outside. However, a soft blush spreads to his cheeks. 

Conspiratorially, Matthew whispers in his ear: “I was just told that, after all, Kang Somin has hid a bit more dust under his rug than we thought.”

Taeae turns to face him with a movement so fast that it has Matthew move back in worry. “What?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Matthew warns, throwing a smile at the people near them. “Let them think I came here to flirt.”

“Yeah, right,” Taerae deadpans. “What is it, then?” he asks again, this time way more calmly. “I’m all ears.”

Matthew’s smile is now directed at Taerae, only at him. Oh. How hard it is to be under his gaze. Taerae holds it, however, and he stares right back at Matthew. Let everyone think they’re disgusting, with no restraint. “Cheated on his girlfriend, dated three different women while in the army, and then he proposed to a whole different woman, whom he’d never even dated, only because she’s rich.”

“That sounds fake,” Taerae laughs. “Literally, it sounds like someone made up to discredit someone you don’t like.”

“Which might be, but also that sounds believable to most people who are really close with him, so that tells a lot about our kind host, doesn’t it?”

Taerae huffs a laugh. “Aren’t you a piece of work?” he says. Matthew looks like an excited child, genuinely happy about the new wave of gossip that has come their way. 

“A masterpiece, you mean,” Matthew replies, and it’s definitely flirty. This said, he moves back a little, but it’s only to reach for an empty chair. He’s now sitting next to Taerae. “This can only work until someone claims their chair back,” Matthew shrugs. “ But , let me tell you that this guy is a mess. He’s got the most complicated dating life I’ve ever heard.”

“Does it beat all your previous records on this subject? I’ve heard you saying this a lot,” Taerae points out. 

“You know a few wild people, Tae,” Matthew shoots back, and it’s a quick reply, the rhythm of the conversation tight and cohesive. “This one looks like a new high, though. Or a new low, depending on the perspectives, I guess.”

“Surely, the women mustn’t have been too happy about it.” Taerae shrugs. Seeing Matthew so smiley and happy is great, but it’s also a form of torture. It surely shows on his face, the conflict he’s feeling: on one hand, it’s obvious to everyone just how well matched he and Matthew are, how well-suited to each other they look, how their energy just matches. There’s the other side of the coin, though. The one where they’ve broken up. The one where this chemistry is simply exaggerated because of the situation they’re in. The side of the world where it’s clear that once they walk out of here they’re not going to have anything left to do with each other. 

“And yet, the one he proposed to actually accepted.”

“ What .” Taerae can’t understand. How the fuck do people live like that? “Doesn’t anyone else have any shred of a principle anymore?” 

“Well, to some he’s handsome,” Matthew smirks. 

“Matt,” Taerae warns. 

“I’m just saying,” Matthew raises his hands in apology. “It’s just- people aren’t as tied to their principles as you are. People follow what profits them the most, most of the time. That’s how it is.”

A scoff on Taerae’s side. “Is that why you ran away to Canada, then?”

Matthew freezes. “That’s different,” he says. 

It’s true. That’s different. And this is not the time and place for this. And, once again, just like every fucking time, Taerae has to retreat, he has to walk back from his standing, he has to go and accept that no one is hearing what he’s trying to say. “Fine,” he relents. “So he’ll marry the rich girl, he got the amazing job with the amazing thesis, he’s got everything.”

“Yeah, but he’s still an asshole,” Matthew shrugs, again. “That’s, like, a major element.”

“Yet he’s happier than me.”

Scene 5

Sitting at his corner of the table, Taerae removes himself from any conversation going on near him.

Time pauses, in the way it always slows down when you’re lost inside your own head. Taerae is contemplating the half-full glass of wine in front of him, the vivid red of the drink a stark contrast with the white of the tablecloth. As if the rest of the room was standing still, as if Taerae was the only one capable of moving around at the usual speed, he asks himself the first of many questions clouding his brain.

Is he moving through life at a rhythm too slow for other people? They all seem to be rushing towards a goal he does not even believe in. Towards a fulfillment that sounds more like a prison than true freedom. They’ve all burned their tires in the run towards adulthood, so much , so fast   —  and now there is no more joy, no more time to sit back and relax and play whatif s. Every conversation is about money, about houses, about jobs and children and advancements and success. 

While Taerae feels stuck at a previous stage, where he’s still waiting for his path to clear up. Where he’s still running after a dream he never truly gave up on. Where he looks at Matthew and wishes they could share at least some more of this life. Not necessarily all of it, just a bit more. It was too little, the time they spent together. 

And Taerae isn’t done with this chapter of his life, with any part of it. He isn’t done with Matthew, that’s one part of it. But he also isn’t done with finding a better job, one that makes him smile , that makes him happy . He isn’t done with hanging out with his friends until late night, uncaring about how tired he’ll be the next day. He isn’t done with planning trips for the weekend and wasting money on concerts, clubs or holidays. He spent his entire life up until his twenties hiding from his real self. He can’t lose all of this so soon. 

Yet, maybe it’s a childish desire, a Peter Pan fantasy of always being the teenager he never got to be. Maybe he actually needs to grow up, to face the fact that a job such as his own may not make him happy but makes him comfortable and that’s more important. He might need to come to terms that both his music days and his relationship with Matthew are suitable to stay in the past, they’re ghosts in his memory. And everyone knows that it is impossible, in reality, to bathe in the same river twice: he’s changed, everything else has changed, too. Whether he wants it or not. 

And his gaze moves across the room, landing on Kang Somin himself. He’s standing close to a woman, maybe his fiancée, and he’s smiling. He looks happy, although he must know, to a certain extent, what people are saying about him. 

They’re dragging him left and right, calling him all sorts of names, and Taerae wonders if Kang Somin only wants these people around because he, too, can’t let go of the time they’ve had together, all of them. Are they just two sides of the same coin, then? Taerae who wants to let go of this lifestyle, Somin who doesn’t  —  who can’t. Taerae who’s tired of being the perfect grown-up, who wants to get rid of this role, and Somin who’s eager to take it, to keep it, even when he’s not doing it right and everybody knows. Taerae who’s tried to be perfect, and who can’t. And Somin, who should be exemplary, yet is the person whose back everyone talks behind. 

Matthew laughs, somewhere in this room, and Taerae finds him in the crowd. There has to be a way where Taerae gets to be happy while also being an actual, complete, adult. So he’ll look for this way. Wherever it’s hiding, he’ll find it. And if he’s still allowed to pray, he will ask not to walk it alone. 

ACT III

Scene I

Still at the table, the dinner feels endless. 

The conversation is still lingering on the same three topics: money, jobs, families. It looks like the only one getting tired of it is Taerae. 

At least, the people sitting next to him have changed. So, instead of hearing the girls talking about their future kids, he gets to hear two men discussing which car they will buy next. And, technically, Taerae likes cars. Technically , he likes them so much that he built his own life and career around this passion. He notices, though, how the way these people approach any single subject is twisted, is devoid of any true love. Everything is status, everything is appearance. If you buy a car that is too cheap, people will think you’re poor. If you buy a car that’s just a sports car, people will assume you don’t care about your family (even if it’s still potential). 

It’s sad. 

Everything about this evening feels like a punch in the face  —  behind a life of unwavering success, behind poster-like perfection and stylish choices, all the people at this table are deeply unhappy. Yes, all of them. 

“Do you guys remember when we were children, dreaming of buying Ferraris and Maseratis and it felt like it was the master key to being the happiest guy on Earth?” Taerae shares his musings, and the people next to him turn to look at him with confusion, but also curiosity.

“We had no idea what money was, to be fair,” the guy to his left considers. 

“But we didn’t just want them because they were rich people's cars, we wanted them because they were fast, their engines would roar , we would fly out on the streets with no care in the world, in those daydreams.”

It’s natural, for Taerae, to go on with this line of thought, to get lost in it, the longing and the nostalgia and the rage for betrayed dreams all mixing together within his stomach. “We’d pretend to be driving the coolest car, the fastest car, and it wasn’t even a matter of names. For all I cared, I could drive a nameless car, but in my imagination I’d drive it everywhere. Up across the mountains, over bridges, in the countryside, and then over insurmountable borders  —  in places I could never actually go. Once I revved on my dream car, she’d take me to the deserts, and to the cities of Europe and America, and she’d take me to the moon. I thought she was red, but some days she was white, others she was purple. And she was fast and fast, and fast. And whenever I needed her to fit two or more friends, she transformed and she could do it.”

“And nobody cared that I drove that car,” Taerae concludes. “Nobody wanted me to give them a ride, just because of that car. No one told me I should have got a different one, or a different color, or that this one wouldn’t last me enough, or that the gas would be too expensive.”

It should elicit some perplexity from the people next to him, but they’re all very pensive, instead. “It’s different,” the man sitting across from him starts. “But when I started university I felt the same: I could be everything. I could be doing everything I wanted. We were people with so much potential and so little reality.”

“And now it’s the opposite,” the guy next to Taerae says. “We’ve got so much reality, and no more potential.”

“What a scam,” the across-guy says. “And everyone thinks we should’ve made different choices at some point.”

“We’ve lost our freedom somewhere along the way,” guy-on-the-left mentions. Then he smiles, a bit sadly: “Hey, Taerae-ssi, is there any seat left on your super car?”

It’s a sad laughter, the one shaking through them all. “Yeah,” Taerae shrugs. “Hop on.”

Scene 2

Taerae’s moved to the end of the table where Matthew was sitting, so that he can chat with the people on this end. 

It’s a staple in every grown-up (or half-grown-up) conversation, apparently. Taerae used to think it was something that only happened at family functions, but it clearly transcends boundaries. 

“So,” a woman  —  her hair chin-length, her lips cherry red  —  is asking one of her friends, “are you thinking about getting married soon?”

“No,” the other woman (curls falling down her shoulders, dark eyeshadow) shrugs. “I don’t feel like settling down,” she mentions, relaxed. “I actually broke up with my boyfriend because he wanted to get married.”

“Oh?”

The long-haired woman smiles. “I don’t want to be a wife and a mother just yet. I am something different, right now. I’m an engineer, I’m a director, I can be a lot more things before being a wife.” 

“You could be an engineer and a wife,” the first woman comments. But her conversation partner is clearly of a different mind. 

“Not everyone has the same priorities,” she concludes, diplomatically. It’s a truth that, as undeniable as it is, still sounds harsh in such a setting. But, maybe, Taerae isn’t the only heretic person in this congregation. Maybe, the deeper they dig into how everyone truly feels, the clearer it will be that they’re not so different, after all. 

“Well, marriage is such a subjective thing, after all,” the cherry-lipstick woman says. “I wonder how you guys feel about it, to be honest.” She’s staring at Taerae and Matthew. Right into their souls. 

“What do you mean?” Thank god for Matthew’s quick wit and his steady reactions. 

She beams: “Well, if you could get married to each other, would you?”

Taerae feels his heart stop beating. Then it picks up at triple speed. There’s no need to panic, though. They agreed on pretending they’re still together, right? So, they are going to face this question with the serenity of people who are still dating, yes, but not looking to get married. 

“It’s a bit pointless to focus on such impossible hypotheticals,” Taerae begins to say. 

(How fake of a reply. Matthew, in fact, looks at him with a gaze full of questions.)

“Oh, I can’t imagine this is a topic that’s never come up in conversation,” the woman goes on, relentlessly. 

“To be fair,” Matthew chimes in, “we didn’t get together that long ago. It takes a while for the subject to come up, especially when, as Taerae said, it’s purely hypothetical.”

It’s then that a different person says their piece. “So you guys got together with no idea of what the other imagined the couple’s future to look like. Isn’t that insane?”

“Well,” Matthew is getting riled up, it shows in the way he moves his hands, and in the way he messes up his hair, too. “It’s not like getting married is the only possible future for a couple. Two people could also want to stay together for as long as they can without getting married, and this is not just a homosexual prerogative either.” He pauses, then he starts again. “One could also not want to submit to the institute of marriage, for a series of reasons. Society has progressed enough to allow for different people making different choices.”

“Marriage is a promise,” the woman shoots back. “A promise to be there for each other-”

“I don’t need rings or a priest or whatever to make this promise to the person I’m with,” Matthew cuts her off. It’s rude. And it must be the first time that anyone sees him for more than the smiley, cheerful, guy that Taerae’s been dating for a year and a half and he’s been very close friends with way before that. 

“But society at large,” the woman goes on, undeterred, “places value on this institution. So, your private promise only holds value for you, maybe for the two of you, but not for the rest of the people. That’s why people want to get married, though: to have their union recognized by everyone.”

Matthew outright scoffs. “Well then tell your country to make it feasible for people like me,” he says. “Maybe I still wouldn’t get married, though. But at least I’d stand a chance to be recognized by everyone . Because that’s the only thing that matters, right? What everyone thinks.”

“Matt,” Taerae tries. He has to calm him down, at least a bit. 

“No,” Matthew looks at him right in the eye. “I mean everything I said,” he adds. “I know what my ideas are, and I know that my beliefs are steady enough to not depend on the judgement of outsiders.” 

“I know,” Taerae admits. He offers him a smile. Matthew smiles back, but it’s still on the fierce side. For a second, maybe more than one, Taerae considers saying something else. It’s scarily easy to lose track of things when Matthew looks at him like that. Taerae would win wars if it meant Matthew would look at him more often. Still, he doesn’t add anything else. 

“Maybe your opinion on the subject is also influenced by the fact that you’ve broken up, though.” 

Taerae turns slowly, mirrored precisely by Matthew. Another guest, a man wearing a stupidly yellow shirt, is standing right there, a placid expression on his face, his arms crossed on his chest. 

“I would not want to marry my ex, either,” he says, again. 

Scene 3

Taerae talking to an orange-clad woman, they’re sitting at one end of the table. We can see that, at the other end, Matthew is sitting in front of a man with a blue jacket. Both pairs are a bit isolated from the main group, their poses are mirrored. 

“I don’t think I get it,” Taerae’s companion is saying. “Walk me through your thought process again.”

He sighs. Runs a hand all over his face. Dares a glance at the other end, where Matthew is. “It feels like a cross interrogation,” he jokes. “What will you do when our versions don’t match?”

She hesitates, then her hand goes to rest on his knee. “I just need to understand you, you’re my —  our friend, you know that?”

“We never see each other, we barely text. Are we still friends, after we all graduated?” Taerae has his own set of questions. 

“Nevertheless,” she doesn’t waste a second, “you’re someone I’ve cared about all throughout our university years. So it’s only natural that this… development makes me worried.”

“Ah, noona,” he sighs. “So what’s your question?”

A pause. She runs a hand through her hair, she fixes her posture on the chair. She’s nervous, too. “If you and Matthew-ssi aren’t together anymore, why come to this party together?”

“If only there was a simple answer,” Taerae half laughs. 

“There’s time, start with one part of it.”

Taerae abandons himself to his chair a bit, surrenders to gravity, lets go of some tightness in his muscles. “I didn’t want to skip this party,” he begins. It’s a simple truth, one that guided most of the subsequent choices. 

“Okay,” she nods. “Any particular reason for this?”

Taerae doesn’t wait too long to reply, he’s ready for this: he’s been thinking about this. “I wanted to see you guys, catch up a bit.” He stops, then resumes. “We used to spend so much time together, then we grew up and… we’re all living separate lives and… sometimes I wonder where we all are, what we’re all doing. I’m curious. And it felt like a good chance to catch up a bit, to tighten our bonds again. I feel stupid now.”

“I think that’s why most of us are here, to be fair.”

“Yet you’re not here with your ex, trying to fool everyone that you’re still together. Or back together. Or whatever lie he’s spinning now.” Taerae can’t see anything that Matthew’s doing, and hearing him is impossible as well. 

“Why didn’t you tell him not to come?” She asks. “We’ve never been his friends, you know? He was your friend at the start, then he became your occasional plus one and then the two of you started dating and it made sense that he came to these things, but now? If you’re worried that we’d not want you if he’s not there, then you’re wrong.”

It makes Taerae laugh. He did think about that, but the truth isn’t that easy. Not at all. “Aside from the fact that everyone adores him,” he says, “it’s not like I could tell him not to come. Kang Somin added him to the group chat, as an individual. It wasn’t like he asked me to bring a date and I asked Matt- Matthew.” The familiar name is too much, maybe. “And if he wanted to come to this party, for some unknown and incomprehensible reason, then who am I to stop him?”

She sags a bit. Her straight back is less like a strong marble slab and more like a frail, precarious, tower of round rocks piled on top of each other. “You would have had the right to tell him it made you uncomfortable,” she points out. “Unless this worked as a chance to see him again.”

“I didn’t want to show him how upset I still was,” Taerae says. “So telling him I didn’t want him here was out of the question.” A pause. “And, noona, he ran to Canada. When he left me, he also left the country. And now he’s back, for some reason. And I- I had to see him, you know?”

“I understand all that, but why hide that you broke up? Why pretend you’re still together? It was bound to come up at a certain point, and no one would have blamed-”

Taerae doesn’t let her finish. “I already don’t fit in,” he finally confesses. “I’m wrong for these people, and it’s not because you don’t care about me, or because you find faults in me. It’s because I shouldn’t be here in the first place. I gave up everything I truly loved to study something that gave me a job I hate , that led me to being alone and unhappy and to find you people’s version of happiness a nightmare. I don’t want to get married, to buy a new house and to have children. I don’t want to have cars that mirror my social status. I don’t want to have another promotion at work, because that means only more time I have to spend at the office. I miss writing music. I miss playing music. I miss when Matthew told me that I had a chance, and he wasn’t even my boyfriend at that time. I just —  how many wrong turns have I taken?”

Silence, for a while. Words that are clearly hard to digest. And then she speaks again. “The thing about wrong turns, though, is that you can find your way back to your intended destination.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” he says. 

Again, she brings a hand to rest on his knee. “One crossroad at a time, then?”

“Maybe,” he settles for. “But we’re leaving the one about Matt for last.”

“Whatever you like to tell yourself,” she jokes. Taerae doesn’t reply, but it’s obvious that she’s correct. And that at least a few Matthew-related issues will have to be solved tonight. 

Scene 4

Matthew’s end of the table. It’s implied that this scene takes place at the same time as Scene 3. 

“And who the hell does he think he is to come and air our business to everyone?” Matthew’s tone is anguished. He’s not merely upset, it’s deeper than that. “Like, what if we’d just gotten back together and he’d simply missed the memo because he’s fucking irrelevant, that’s what he is.”

“But you’re not together,” the man sitting opposite him points out. “And that’s totally your business, but at the same time it was the correct information to share.”

Matthew deflates. “He should’ve just minded his business.” He insists. 

“I don’t really get it,” the man begins, after a while. “I don’t get why you got angry with him, I don’t get what was so wrong about the whole marriage thing, and, mostly, I don’t get why you’re here.”

“I was invited,” Matthew replies, decidedly. 

“And yet, an invitation isn’t an obligation. You could’ve said no, thanks, or I can’t make it . You were on the guest list simply because Somin must have thought you were still Taerae’s partner.”

Matthew sighs. “It came at the right time, I wanted to be here.”

“If you simply needed to clear things up with Kim Taerae  —  which I get, it’s your own business  —  why did you need to ambush him at his friend’s graduation party?”

“It’s not what’s happening,” Matthew says. “I didn’t ambush anyone. He knew I’d be here. I RSVP-ed before he did.”

“Still,” the man insists. “You could’ve been honest about not being together.”

“Taerae doesn’t like people asking questions about him, so he didn’t want others to know. I guess it’s fair, it’s his choice. I was cool about it.”

“Matthew-ssi, you didn’t have any business coming to this party if not Kim Taerae himself!” The man is exasperated. “So, of course you’re going to follow his lead. He had every right to tell you to leave this party, yet he didn’t. He had every right to tell you that none of these people is your friend. Hell, he might feel like they’re not his friends, either. You’re out of place, you don’t belong here on your own, you only make sense in this context as his partner. He didn’t just want to avoid questions, he wanted you to stay and have a place.”

Matthew doesn’t reply for a while. “He wouldn’t kick me out after I flew here from the other side of the world,” he half-whispers. 

“Do you care about any of the people here enough to cross the world to chat with them? Or is it that you needed to make a few assessments yourself?”

Matthew laughs. It’s a rigid laugh, bitter to the sound. “You don’t know anything about me, anything about us .”

“Yet I know that you showed up to someone’s graduation party in order to see if your ex had moved on. Because I think you haven’t.”

Matthew is left speechless again. The audacity this man is displaying. “We didn’t break up because we were tired of each other,” Matthew says, his voice low. He’s staring at the floor, too. “We broke up because I decided I was done with Korea as a country. Because I felt like I was getting stuck here. So I went back home.”

“So are you here to ask Kim Taerae to join you there?”

Matthew laughs. The idea is ludicrous. “I’m here because the country is not the issue, I am.”

“So do you want him back?”

“Does he want me back?”

“Well, I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to ask him. I thought you two were still together until a few minutes ago, right?” He pauses. “Do you want him back?”

Matthew raises his eyes from the ground briefly. Then he goes back to staring at the floor. His shoulders are tense. He doesn’t look like a happy man. “I want him happy,” he says. “Whatever it means. All I know is that he’s unhappy now, and this won’t do.”

“Did you make him happy? Was he happy when you two were together?”

Matthew laughs again, it’s still a dry version of a real laughter. It lacks something. “He wasn’t unhappy about me, or so he said. But the life he’s leading, the life we were leading… I wasn’t happy.”

“Then if you weren’t happy you shouldn’t be here.”

“If only it were that simple, eh?” Matthew raises his eyebrows. “As I said, I am the issue. And I think it was the same for him. We were unhappy separately. And I thought running away might fix at least a part of it, while it made it worse.”

“If nothing changes, though, you’ll keep being unhappy,” this man says, as if it’s easy. 

“Wow, so illuminating,” Matthew deadpans. “We’ll find a way,” he adds, though. And it’s a very decisive sentence. He sounds strong, convinced. 

“And you think it’s a way you’ll walk together?”

Matthew gives up. “I can only hope.” The man smiles. Finally. 

Scene 5

A group of guests, removed from the two different conversations, sharing their thoughts to each other about what they just learned. 

“The way relationships go, you see, is so unpredictable. You might bet on two people to stay together all their lives, and the next thing you know is how they’ve broken up and stopped existing for each other.”

“It’s even worse when you’ve witnessed them falling in love. You get to hope with them, hope for them, and then it’s over  —  just like that.”

“And at the same time, other couples are so improbable and yet, they’re so long-lasting. No logic whatsoever.”

“Do you remember when we first found out that they were dating? How relieved, how happy the whole group was? Months, maybe years, of seeing it bloom and then, such a shame.”

“Does it exhaust itself when it takes that long to develop?”

“Love can never grow tired.”

“The rest of our lives can get in the way.”

“I’ve met people who were apart for a while and reconnected later on. That might also happen.”

“I’ve met couples who hurt each other so bad that they never wanted to be near each other, though.”

“Is there no in-between?”

“There’s everything, I think. People are as different as every sunset differs from the one before it.”

“How romantic.”

“Is it not true?”

“Still, do you ever worry about how deeply unknown our life is to us? One day you might wake up to a different reality, you might lose what you thought was yours forever. And you can’t do anything about it.”

“That makes it beautiful, how impermanent things are. You have to love them while you have them. Never take anything for granted.”

“And the fear?”

“Means you love them.”

ACT IV

Scene 1

A balcony. Taerae is staring out into the night. The party is still raging behind him, inside. 

There is no doubt, coming to this party was a big mistake. It doesn’t take much effort to realize this. Taerae is standing close to the balcony’s railing, grasping it with all of his strength. There is so much going on inside his head, too many questions, too many doubts. At the forefront of everything is Matthew. The thousands of interrogatives he’s capable of raising within Taerae  —  the amount is scary in itself. The worst part, though, is that these questions would still be here without Matthew, even if Matthew wasn’t in this same room. 

Because Taerae is asking himself why he’s here  —  not just here, at this party, in this specific building, but here in this world, in this city, with these people. Why has he been so headstrong, so convinced that he should have to defend his place, his role, to this point? He’s not like them, he doesn’t want to be. And he shouldn’t have come to this party. 

Or, maybe, it’s good that he did, because at least he got to this conclusion, to a truth that’s been right in front of him for ages but he’s refused to see forever, because it’s uncomfortable, it’s uneasy. 

But, at the same time, how does one get out of this spot? If he doesn’t want to live like this anymore (and it’s clear, it’s obvious, how he can’t go on like this), he will have to find a way out for himself. The way Taerae sees it, life offers unending options to everyone, and it’s up to anyone to decide pretty much everything about their life. He doesn’t believe in there not being any other choice but, or in there not being anything left to do. There’s always a solution, there’s always a way out. This is his scientific mind speaking, on some level, but it’s also the way he believes the world works. 

There were times, when he was a child, where he could have taken so many different directions  —  yet, he chose the ones that led him where he is now. But it’s not like he’s now standing on a road that leads nowhere. On the contrary, he’s faced with the biggest crossroads he’s ever seen. A nightmare of choices, every single road twisting around with the others, possibly tangling up with each other. Jobs, relationships, friendships. Everything he holds dear feels like it’s at stake. Like his entire life is unstable. He’s… not exactly lost. But he’s in the wrong place, and he needs to find where the right one is. 

He’s always imagined himself as if he was walking on the same road as the people that are now spending their evening on the other side of the window from him. Now, though, they’ve all surpassed him, they’re all miles ahead on this same road, to the point that it feels that he’s never walked along anyone else. He’s alone, as of now. And he’s considering stopping right where he is, or taking the first possible exit, going for a diversion or whatever. He knows he’s chosen this one road willingly, but he’s failed to consider that in order to stay on it, at the right pace, he would have to sacrifice too much. And he’s not willing to do that anymore. 

They’ve given up some parts of their humanity that Taerae, too, has tried to kill off. He believes, in a way, that the point of being alive is to be happy, and that happiness can be found with others, in others, too. Yet, he sees these people (all of them, he fears) looking for it in the driest of corners: things, idols, images. It’s not happiness, it’s the projection of it. And the more he thinks about it, the more determined he feels: he does not care if he’s imperfect, if he’s fallible. He’d rather be a mess than an empty, yet shiny, shell. 

Rationally, though, he cannot quit his job from one day to the next and start strumming his guitar, busking on street corners yelling his newfound lyricism to the world. He needs to look for a middle ground, for a downsizing of the importance he’s been giving to his career that could let the rest of life, the best of life in. 

He could make it, if he wanted to. He could start by giving a call to his band members, learn where they are now. Do they still play together some time? Would they like to meet up for a jam or just for old times’ sake? Would they recreate the band with him? And then, maybe he could find a smaller company to work at, with less demanding hours. And he could attend band rehearsals after work and on the weekend. And they could perform at some local festivals, right? Nothing too fancy, but still fun. And Matthew will surely suggest that they record something, put it online, because that’s how success grows these days. Right: Matthew. Where is he, in this unbidden daydream? He’s either on the other side of the Pacific, or he’s glued to Taerae. No in-between. No other options, this time. It scares Taerae, the way his anger subdued so easily when he saw him again.

Scene 2

While Taerae is still staring from the balcony, the door opens and it closes. Together with the loud noise from inside, Matthew steps out on the balcony. 

“Ah, that’s where you’ve been hiding,” Matthew says, first thing. He’s quite determined, if his tone is a giveaway. “I couldn’t find you inside.”

“You didn’t need to be looking for me,” Taerae mutters. “You could stay inside by yourself, our charade is over anyway. They know we broke up.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t.” 

Silence follows. It’s not too long-lived, yet it’s uncomfortable. Taerae resumes his position  —  his elbows are now resting on the railing, he closes his eyes. Matthew, instead, is facing him. He’s completely turned towards Taerae and he’s directly looking for a confrontation. 

“Why did you not tell me to not come to this party?” Matthew asks.

“What sort of question is that?” Taerae counters. “You were invited, it’s not like I could un-invite you?”

“So you didn’t want me to be here,” Matthew goes on. 

“Who would want his ex to be there, come on,” Taerae matches his rhythm too well. “It’s the first time, too.”

“You didn’t tell me,” Matthew attacks. “You didn’t tell me that it would upset you, you let me believe that this would be okay because you didn’t say anything.”

Taerae finally faces him, too. “I didn’t let you do anything, Matthew,” he says. “And I never complained that you came to this party. I never tried to stop you from coming. I have always valued your freedom.”

It makes Matthew scoff. It’s outright rude. “You never, never , told me what any of my decisions did to you. You let me go back to Canada without so much of a word. You just told me it was fine. Fine. ” 

“Matthew, you told me you had bought tickets. What was I supposed to tell you? That I wouldn’t accept it? How could I tell you what to do?”

Matthew’s frustration is high, it shows in his restlessness, in the way he acts like he doesn’t know where he should stand. “At least you could tell me it’d break your heart if I left.”

“Oh you needed me to tell you? Didn’t it show?” Matthew tries to reply, but Taerae is faster. He goes on, “Were my eyes not red enough? Not swollen enough? Did I not cry enough when you told me? Or all the weeks in between until you actually left?” Taerae, then, had cried and cried and cried. Now, though, he’s angry again. “Next time I’ll be sure to write you a letter in which I formally state how heartbreaking it is for me that the man I’m in love with chooses to run to a different continent for no actual reason except being tired .” 

“Didn’t you ever ask yourself what I was actually tired of?” Matthew insists. 

“ Of course I did,” Taerae roars. “Yet, you weren’t the only tired one, Matt. It’s a shitty life, the one we lived. You told me you were tired, you complained about your work, I hated mine. It was useless. You were tired. But I was, too.”

“So you don’t blame yourself, not a bit. That’s what you’re saying. You’re never wrong, right? You’re always morally perfect, you’re always at peace with everyone’s decision, because that’s what matters in life, right? Being able to make decisions, to face them. You’re a hypocrite.”

Taerae is livid, too. “I don’t blame myself? Matthew, if I could have done anything differently, trust me, I would have. If I could go back to the way things were last year, before everything turned to shit? I would, and I would change everything. But the real question is: would that be enough? Would that make you happy? Because I know what would make me happy, I think. And not all of it has to do with you, you know. But, do you know how to make yourself happy? Because that shouldn't have been my job and mine alone.”

“We were happy, for a while.” Matthew points out. 

“Neither of us was,” Taerae says. 

“But not because of the other, that’s what I’m saying. I-”

“Actually,” Taerae stops him. “ What are you saying? Because at first it sounded like you wanted me to tell you how I hate you, then it turned into you accusing me of not caring about you, then it became how I failed to fight for us and now? Why do you want me to lie and say that we were fine , when we were two broken people?”

Matthew stops. He deflates. “Can we not be broken anymore?”

“I don’t know, Matt,” Taerae shrugs. “I think I have quite a long road ahead until I start feeling whole again.” It’s a confession, in a way. An admission that’s truer than anything he’d like to be saying. 

“Going back home didn’t solve anything,” Matthew confesses, too. “If anything, the hole I felt inside only got worse.”

“Do you expect it to fix itself?” Taerae asks earnestly. “If there’s one thing I learned tonight is that we need to take some responsibility.”

“Responsibilities, choices… they fill your mind and your mouth, and you sound like a grown-up when you talk, but aren’t you fucking scared, too?”

It takes Taerae a lot of courage to look right into Matthew’s eyes and say: “Yes. Everything about tonight terrifies me.”

Scene 3 

The door opens again. A man  —  looking slightly drunk  —  steps out on the balcony as well. 

The intruder takes both Matthew and Taerae by surprise. They compose themselves a bit, they go back to leaning against the balcony’s railing, apparently unaffected, apparently nonchalant. As if they didn’t just breech into very dangerous territory with their conversation. 

“Isn’t it chilly here?” the man says. He’s got his tie a bit askew. He’s not as sharp-looking as he probably thinks he is. There is redness on his cheeks and his hair isn’t falling right, either. 

“Were you dancing inside?” Matthew asks, and it’s a kind question. It’s an out for the man, an opening for some small talk, too. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Great music, they’re playing. Feels like being young again.”

“We’re all still young,” Matthew points out. He’s smiling, still kind. And his smile does not fade away when he turns to face Taerae briefly. 

“Ah, you were probably having a talk ,” the man must have realized that there were two people on this balcony, and that Taerae, instead, isn’t smiling at all. He’s frowning, with a deep line setting between his eyebrows. “I didn’t mean to disturb.”

“You didn’t,” Taerae shrugs, but his expression doesn’t change. “This is a public space, after all.”

“I don’t like long faces at parties,” the man comments, and he gets dangerously close to Taerae, who pulls back with a fake smile. “Right? So much better. Isn’t it better?” he asks Matthew. 

“Perhaps,” Matthew doesn’t commit to a full reply.

There’s silence for a while. Not long enough to be uncomfortable, but just the right amount to have the intruder realize something. “I’m thirsty,” he says. “I want to get a drink.”

“I suggest water,” Taerae says, but the man has already opened the door and is stepping back inside. 

Another wave of silence settles over the two of them. Then Taerae takes a deep breath, deep enough to be loud. It feels Earth shattering, it’s an earthquake that shapes the surface differently, that either opens a new fault line or creates a new mountain ridge. And while the world shakes, what else can Matthew do beside holding on tight to the railings? 

“I have a question,” Taerae says. “That’s actually made up of two questions. First part: why did you come back from Canada? Second part: why were you so convinced it would be something so definitive when you moved there?”

Matthew is still trying to hold his balance. It’s not a literal earthquake, clearly. But, within himself, it might as well be. “I moved there because I thought I needed to go back home, I felt unmoored here. I needed to feel more grounded, and going back home felt grounding. I’d failed here. At a lot of things. Even at being with you.”

“So what changed?”

“I was even more lost. Everyone I knew was gone, everything I remembered wasn’t there anymore. The life I’d lived there as a child was a memory, it wasn’t achievable any longer. Too much had changed.”

Taerae takes another breath. “Man, growing up sucks.”

It makes Matthew huff a laugh. “So, I came back because I missed my adult life here. And I thought that the stuff I’d done wrong could maybe be fixed. Maybe not one hundred percent, maybe not all the stuff I’d messed up. But at least some parts. Enough to start rebuilding.”

“You’ve always had a flair for dramatics,” Taerae sighs. “So, does this mean you’re staying for good?”

“I do want a life here,” Matthew says. It’s something he believes in, by the way he’s saying it. “It was always true, but I wasn’t ready to see it.”

Taerae’s expression is unreadable. He stares off into the distance again. 

“Can you say something?” Matthew begs. 

Taerae looks at him quickly, before he goes back to his previous observations. “I don’t know what to say,” Taerae mutters. “Whatever information you add makes everything even less comprehensible for me. We fucked it up quite bad, I think.”

“Is it beyond repair?”

“It depends,” Taerae says. “I don’t know.”

Scene 4

Matthew’s headspace is a messy thing. It’s full of people wanting his attention and trying to distract him from his line of thought. 

Even as Taerae finished speaking, and silence took possession of their small reign of a balcony, Matthew’s head feels all but quiet. It’s not just the party that’s going on right next to them, its music filtering through the thin glass  —  no, it’s more like there is a constant source of noise that comes from within him. You might think it’s his heart beating, so loud and so anxious that it manages to cover the rest of all the sounds. But it’s not that either, it’s like all his thoughts, all his questions are mixed together in a jumbled chorus that makes them unintelligible. A city in chaos, roaring with sirens, people yelling everywhere… and a person trying to meditate through all this. 

This is what he feels like  —  as he forces himself to focus on the words he’s been exchanging with Taerae. It depends , I don’t know . It was fair enough on his side, Matthew thinks. 

He also thinks that he deserves one more chance, one more attempt at making it good, at making it relevant. Because he did run away, it’s the truth. He ran away from Seoul, he ran away from Taerae and from their imperfect love. He was only trying to do the right thing, though. He was trying to be a grown-up, or to find a way to be one, rather. 

Taerae always said that being a grown-up involved talking about things, admitting your mistakes and moving past them with a serene heart. It makes Matthew think of two separate things, though. One, how does Taerae fare on the serene heart aspect, when he’s clearly not ready to move forward from Matthew, either? When he’s still angry, still upset, and he has a right to be, but surely this means he’s not as grown-up as he wants to be. And also, what if a person needs time and a lot of distance to figure out that they’ve made a mistake in the first place? 

Matthew used to think that running back home would be the solution. Sure, it would take him admitting that his foray into a foreign country had been a failure, it would take admitting that the relationships he’d built in Korea weren’t going to last, but at the very least he would have a safety net waiting for him at home. Someone to pick him up and help rebuild. His family did welcome him back  —  he retraces his steps  —  yet it felt like there were always some pieces missing. And it was those same pieces that he’d always missed in Seoul: a purpose, a larger goal for his days and life, a general yet essential idea of the person he wanted to be. And he lacked something more, even: a person to discuss all of this with.

He’d tried talking to his sister, but she kept saying that he was already a good person, why worry so much about what kind of an adult he wanted to be, everyone figures stuff along the way. Which, yeah, true. But then you can end up just like those assheads right behind the windowpane at Kang Somin’s party. 

And so he waited, and he kept doing his job, he kept occupying his days, reminiscing about the old days, where everything looked bright. Where he spent days and nights juggling his studies and his dancing, where he sneaked into music studios just to get a glimpse of a honey-voiced boy who always smiled at Matthew like he had a sun beaming from within him. Where he made all the friends that maybe still waited for him somewhere in Seoul and he slowly built a life there, finishing university, getting a job in this useless international communication company, taking Taerae’s hand one night and not letting it go for too many months, for too many nights. 

And then the darker days, the panic-filled days. Where all he could think about was how he couldn’t live this life forever, he couldn’t bear debating joining a dance class or working more hours to help more with the bills forever. He couldn’t stand pushing back conversations with the man he was still so much in love with just because they were both working overtime. But there were things to decide, appliances to fix, a plumber to call and it was too much . Not because Taerae didn’t care about him  —  like he’d led him to believe, apparently  —  but because he could see just how much he did, and how much he suffered too. So what the fuck was the point of everyone suffering? 

There’s a thing about adulthood, in Matthew’s opinion. It’s that most of the time there is no one offering you a ready solution. That’s for children. No, adults have to go and try, and fuck up, and try again. And maybe the second time it’s going to stick. And if it’s not destined to last either, then Matthew will wipe his tears away and he’ll give it another try. Until he finds his place, right? A place that he thought was Canada, at a certain point, but that most likely is not a real place  —  it’s the person in front of him, the only oasis of peace in this neverending chaos. And he hopes that Taerae will take him back, in a way. He hopes he’ll let him try to be on his side again, maybe forever. Maybe not. But if Matthew thinks that there has to be a place where he can truly bloom, truly find out who he’s meant to be, this has to be here . 

Scene 5

Taerae is still silent. Matthew, in reality, has been silent too. The silence goes on for a few more moments. Until, again, Matthew moves around the balcony, finding another position, where he’s not facing Taerae. 

“Do you remember that time when we almost missed the train to go see your parents and it felt like the world was ending even though we both own cars and could have easily driven there?”

It’s a question that comes out of the blue. It’s such a specific memory, too. 

Taerae turns to face him with a quizzical look. “I do,” he says. “When we both realized it, we were kinda stunned that we didn’t think of it earlier.” 

“Yeah,” Matthew agrees. “Sometimes I still feel that way, with a lot of things. Why didn’t I think of it earlier ? And it would make everything so much easier, if I just wasn’t so slow, and so stupid, sometimes.”

A sigh. “Do you remember when you insisted that we went to that noraebang because it would cheer me up without a doubt and you ended up crying because we only picked sad songs?”

It makes Matthew laugh. “I missed your singing voice,” he confesses. 

“I still think about it whenever I put on music,” Taerae whispers. “I can’t even remember why I was so upset that day, but I have the whole night memorized, I can recite the exact songs we sang, I can…”

“Go on,” Matthew urges. 

“I just…” Taerae hesitates. “It helps me put things into perspective, you know? How it felt like everything was over , but I can’t even remember what the problem was. Yet I remember the songs, I remember your face, I remember how I had to make you laugh, somehow.”

Matthew sighs, it’s a lot. 

“And what about the time we both got locked out of our dorms?”

“Ah,” Taerae laughs. “It’s such a long time ago, we were barely friends back then!”

“And the night I forgot it was my birthday?” Matthew smiles at some private memory. 

“It made everyone so angry,” Taerae still laughs. Then he pauses. “You kissed me, that night.”

“I did.” He’s looking at Taerae now. Is there any regret on his face? “You waited months to ask me about it.”

A shrug, an eyeroll. And then, “I could say that it took you months to try and do it again.”

“ Oh ?” Matthew is smiling too wide, happy and unbridled. “You manipulator!” 

“It’s not like you didn’t know that I liked you, Matthew,” but he’s still laughing. “I was doing okay, waiting for you to come around.”

“And I always thought I was the patient one in this relationship,” Matthew sighs. There’s a pause, a shift. The laughter is soon abandoned, returned to the past it belongs to. “I guess I wasn’t patient enough,” a half-voiced admission. “I gave up too soon, right?”

Taerae bids his time before replying, the hesitation making it slightly uncomfortable. He frets around, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeves. He’s trying to find both the real answer he’s willing to give and the right way of phrasing it. Finally, he sets himself up to reply to the direct question that was asked to him. “I hope that the time felt right to you.” He tries again. “I hope you  —  at least you  —  thought it was the right thing to do, at the right time.”

Matthew, on the contrary, leaves no space, no silence between these words and the ones he says next: “It felt like unfinished business, didn’t it? It felt like leaving things half-done, because I ran away like the stupid coward I’ve always been. I’m-”

“Stop,” Taerae is stern. Matthew actually stops. Taerae, in front of him, is standing with his back straight, with a serious face and a very determined expression. So Matthew shuts up, waits for him to go on. “We both have our faults.”

“Why do you never blame me? I walked out, I- Fuck, you even drove me to the airport.”

Taerae, weirdly enough, laughs again. Briefly, but it’s there. “I thought…” a hiccup, “I thought that I could be mature enough to do it. I was so angry, you have no idea. With myself, mostly. And with you, because you just told me to take care and then you flew away. And left me.”

“Is that the last thing I actually said? Take care ?”

“Yes,” Taerae takes a deep breath. “Thank you, for everything. Take care.”

Matthew barely stops himself from hiding his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Truly.”

“It’s fine, I have no recollection of what I said either.” Taerae, the diplomat. 

It’s Matthew’s turn to laugh. “No,” he says. “I meant for the things I said,” he clarifies. “Though, I clearly remember you saying This is it, then. And I suck at goodbyes, what do I even tell you? And Tell me if the flight goes alright. And then you looked like you wanted to say something else. But you didn’t.”

“There was a lot I wanted to tell you.”

Matthew’s curiosity makes him lean forward. “Then say it now.”

But Taerae is a solid person, he only tilts his head to the side. “No point,” he says. 

“Actually, there’s a point,” Matthew pushes forward. “More than one. You can, firstly, make me feel like the asshole I was.” It elicits a laugh. “And, also, are we really done?”

Taerae freezes. Blinks too fast. Then he opens his mouth and he closes it again. “Done discussing this?” he whispers. “Because you can’t be asking-”

“But I am,” Matthew states. 

“Matt, it’s not that easy,” Taerae sighs. 

And it’s not. It’s not easy. “It’s never been easy, though,” Matthew insists. “What love story is actually easy?” Another eyeroll from Taerae. Another sigh. “I know that our problems won't go away by magic, I know I can’t just pretend that I didn’t leave and that I didn’t break your heart, I know that we’re not children anymore. But-”

Taerae takes another deep breath. He looks like he’s reached some decision or other. “It’s always so exhausting,” he breathes out. “To have to fight with the knowledge that, in the end, I’ve forgiven you too soon and that, no matter how much you made me cry, I have never stopped being in love with you.” He adds, “I wish I wasn’t. It would make everything simpler.”

It leaves Matthew in silence for a long stretch. Then, he straightens his shoulders, he goes for the door that leads back inside. “We can revisit this in the future,” he suggests. Taerae only gives a tired nod as an answer. 

ACT V

Scene 1

Back inside, our protagonists are re-approaching the dinner table. The room is brightly lit, and the contrast with the previous setting is all the more real: lights, people, noise. It feels like a galaxy away from the conversation they’ve just finished.

Taerae and Matthew mechanically head back to the seats they’d kept at the beginning of the seated part of the evening  —  going each at one end of the table. It feels like no one is paying attention to them and to their actions, even though it was these very same people who brought up their break-up right before they left the room for a while. 

It’s perfectly reasonable within the frame of how the night has been progressing. Everything is, after all, superficial and fleeting. From one conversation, you can move to the next, with no consequences. 

Taerae, then, sits down in a position that is close enough to the one he thinks he had before. He observes the cutlery and the glass to try to determine if this was, indeed, his seat or if he mixed it up with someone else’s while he was gone. Or, perhaps, if someone shifted to sit at his own seat and now he’s taking another person’s. It’s highly likely it’s not the right position, so he makes a point to stop a waiter and ask him for another glass, a clean one. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Taerae can’t fight back a smile when he realizes that Matthew is asking him this question. “Pathetic attempt at flirting, my dear,” Taerae deadpans.

It makes Matthew huff with laughter. “No, seriously. There’s no seats left on my end,” he shrugs. 

“What a coincidence,” Taerae’s sarcasm is never lost on Matthew. “If I get up and I go check, will I find out that you lied?”

“I’m being honest,” Matthew’s wide eyes look honest. 

“Whatever,” Taerae lets it go, and right then the waiter comes back with his clean glass. “Thank you,” Taerae addresses him. “If it’s not a bother, one more for the gentleman here?”

Matthew raises one eyebrow, and then he waits for Taerae to deliver his last line. And, promptly: “It’s vacant,” Taerae says. “All yours.”

Taerae pours himself some water, he downs it. Then, he also pours himself some wine, but he keeps the glass in his hands, nestling more than actually drinking it. The waiter is quick to return with another glass for Matthew, and it, too, soon gets filled. “Do you think we missed some important conversations?” Matthew asks, after this silent ritual is performed.

“I feel like no conversation held here tonight was important,” Taerae counters. Matthew holds his gaze, until he breaks and finishes the sentence. “Except our last one, fine.”

“Wanna bet they’ve all been talking about us?”

Taerae shakes his head slightly. “We’re not the most interesting ones,” he shrugs. “I think our situation lost its appeal  —  look at the way no one is paying us any mind.” 

The yawn Taerae lets out takes Matthew by surprise and he’s soon thinking about something else entirely. “Oh,” he exclaims. “I haven’t reserved a taxi to go back to my B&B yet.”

Taerae looks at him without a word. He looks like he’s contemplating something, though. Matthew, however, goes on, bringing out his phone and tapping on it. “Which app do you think is better for taxis, since you always use it?”

Taerae closes his eyes for a short second. “I’ve reserved a taxi, let’s just share that one.”

Matthew is silent for a couple of seconds. “So generous.”

Taerae only looks at him in silence, his features unmovable. Matthew’s breathing is a bit uneven. So he drowns the contents of his glass. 

Scene 2

  The music has softened, it’s getting close to the time the party has to wrap up. People are still mostly involved in many conversations, and the graduate, Kang Somin, is once again making the rounds of his guests. 

“Hey!” Kang Somin is, once more, approaching Taerae and Matthew. He’s smiling, and his cheeks are pinker than the last time they crossed paths with him in this too-crowded hall. “It feels like I have some apologies to make.”

“Oh?” Taerae politely reacts, while Matthew almost yells: “I bet you do.”

Somin has the good spirit to laugh about it. “When I invited both of you to this party,” he starts, “I didn’t know you were on a break. Like, you’re this solid unit in my perception, I couldn’t begin to imagine people like the two of you face crises just like the rest of us, go on breaks , fight about their things, push-and-pull and all that.”

Taerae is already rushing to set the record straight, but Matthew beats him, even quicker. “No need to worry at all,” he’s extra fast to say. “A human mistake, an honest one.” Taerae is now looking at him with a quizzical expression. Matthew continues. “Just like you say, we faced a crisis and kept our head high and now, would you guess, we’re here at your party to tell the tale, ha!”

“Yeah,” Taerae interjects. “A mistake everyone could make,” he echoes weakly. “But it’s actually merely coincidental that-”

“That we came here separately,” Matthew speaks over him. 

Taerae frowns and, unheard to anyone else, he whispers to him: “What the hell are you doing?”

Matthew goes on, unbothered. “I only managed to come back from Vancouver today,” the expressions on his face are almost comical, as he clearly tries to convince Somin of the truth of a made-up story. “You can imagine how much we both cared about being at this party, we were so eager to come and, of course, to reunite after a few weeks away from each other.”

“Yes,” Kang Somin looks pleased. “I did imagine that your break was a short-lived one. Again, if there’s a pair I’d bet on to make it ‘til the finish line!”

“Well,” Taerae points out. “Calling it a break implies-”

“You’re being too generous,” Matthew’s pantomime goes on. 

“I don’t like how you’re calling it a break,” Taerae finally says. And it’s loud enough that both men hear him. It’s strong enough that they stop with their dumb conversation and turn to look at him.

“Well, Taerae?” Matthew gestures at him to go on. 

Taerae is not one to back up from challenges, especially when they come from one Seok Matthew. “I’d say we were very broken up for the better part of three months,” he says. 

“A pause of a few weeks,” Matthew reiterates. “A break, as Somin-ssi is saying.”

“Do you consider it a break when you assume you’re not getting back together?” Taerae asks, candidly. 

Matthew knows the challenge for what it is: provocation, dare, competition. “If you already know that you’re getting back together, why take a break at all?”

Taerae looks him right in the eye. “Matt, this isn’t what happened. And you know it.”

It’s almost like Kang Somin has turned invisible, he’s there and he’s trying to put his words in, but there is no space for him. He’s cut out from this development. 

“So, let’s call it a break-up,” Matthew shrugs. “And let’s agree that we’re both fine with the idea that getting back together is out of the realm of possibilities, that neither of us wants it. Me and you both , the two of us. We’ve been a couple. Now, we’re not anymore. And we will not be.”

Taerae twists his hands, he’s not comfortable. “People can get back together even after break-ups,” he says. “It’s not a life sentence.”

“And then, depending on the chronologies of their relationship, isn’t that merely a break ?” Matthew is undeterred. “Suppose we dated for ten years, then broke up for three months and dated for another twenty years. Wouldn’t that be just a pause?”

“You’d have made an excellent philosopher,” Taerae sighs. 

Matthew smiles. “I am an excellent philosopher,” he jokes. “I do a lot of excellent thinking.”

“Considering how many philosophers ended up executed for their ideas, I can’t disagree,” Taerae’s smile is cutting.

Matthew reaches over to lean his head on Taerae’s shoulder. He’s weirdly allowed to do that with a mere, weak, sigh on Taerae’s side. “I know you like the concept of break because it implies hope,” Matthew says, his voice low. “I know it scares you because of the same reason.”

“Then you should know that I don’t like when you act smart with me.”

“Bear with me,” Matthew almost begs. 

“Lord help me,” Taerae lets a hand fall on top of Matthew’s knee. 

Scene 3

As Somin moves away, a few people follow him to catch up and chat with him. Inevitably, it leaves Matthew and Taerae a bit more isolated from the rest of those sitting at their same table. 

They’re not sitting as close to each other as they were just moments before. It’s simply useless if one wants to have a constructive conversation, it turns out. 

Matthew looks lost in thought, his glass still half full and his gaze lost somewhere along the table. Taerae, instead, is looking at Matthew. He cannot hide from his face the million thoughts swimming through his head. 

Finally, he gives in. “If we really want to try again,” he starts, “I think we should start by dropping a few acts.”

Matthew immediately perks up, like a kitten who hears their name being called from another room. “Yes,” he immediately says. “Whatever you want,” he adds. 

It makes Taerae’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he still goes on with his reasoning. “It’s not easy, for me, to be completely honest with anyone, including you.” A harsh truth. “Honesty implies vulnerability, implies being ready to accept that your perspective will be used against you, in a way. And it’s easier, most of the time, to just pretend like you’re fine with everything that’s being thrown at you. To keep your cards close to your chest, because the less people truly see, the less they will dig and hurt you in the process. But,” he stops, then resumes, “if I want honesty from you, if I want to know everything you think, then I must give you the same.”

Matthew knows better than to ask why Taerae is suddenly saying that he wants anything from him. “I can give you honesty,” he swears. “I want to, even.”

“You’ve asked me why I came to this party. I told you that I wanted some gossip, then I told you that I wanted control over what people said about me. It’s all true, but it’s not the main reason. The truth is that I’m selfish. And I’m insecure. And I felt like I needed to see for myself that they , they’re just pretending. All they’re saying, all they’re achieving. Everything is but a projection of being okay, of being happy and accomplished. It’s all fake. And I knew that, because I know that material success doesn’t equal happiness, but I needed to come here and see it with my own eyes.”

Matthew waits to reply. He knows that Taerae isn’t finished yet. And he knows it because, in the end, this is the person he knows the best. The only person he cares to know, even. 

So, Taerae continues. “And I’m a bitch, I’m a horrible person, I know,” Taerae sounds like he believes this. “Which is why I needed to reassure myself that I could see through this patina of glamour, that I could see the truth of the unhappiness that joins us all.”

It’s then that Matthew chooses to speak. “I have a further question about your motives,” he starts. Taerae nods, silently. “Aside from all this, aside from your need to see these things for yourself,” a brief pause, “did you also hope to see me here?”

It takes a few seconds. Taerae might be willing to divest himself of all the layers he’s coated himself with in an attempt at protecting himself from the outside world, but it doesn’t mean that it’s easy to let go of everything in one second and stand bare in front of someone else. But something shifts within him, and the whole room shifts with it. If a human being could emit light from the inside, this is what it would feel like. Taerae, finally, is shining. “Yeah,” he says.

“Why?”

And, this time, Taerae answers right away. “Because I wished to have the closure I didn’t get three months ago. Because I hoped I could tell you all the things I hadn’t told you, I hoped I could finally tell you to go fuck yourself for breaking my heart and moving to the other side of the world. And I wished that, seeing you, I could realize how stupid I’d been for not getting over you, not one bit, in all this time.”

It’s merely selfish, the question Matthew asks next. “And what’s the conclusion, then?”

Taerae’s smile looks tired. “That I missed you terribly,” he says. “And that I was stupid, but for having let go of you.”

It doesn’t happen often that Matthew is left speechless. Yet, now he is. He struggles to find any word that can suffice to reply to such a… confession? 

“Ah,” Taerae sighs. “I was too much.”

“Never,” Matthew quickly says. “Never too much,” it’s said in a rush. He still can’t find anything more to say, there’s too much he can’t wrap his head around. So he just extends his hand for Taerae to hold. And that, exactly that, happens. 

Scene 4

Waiters start going about with slices of cake on dessert plates. It signals that the dinner is about to end, this whole night is. 

When the waiter that brought Matthew and Taerae their own cake slices starts walking away, Matthew doesn’t waste time to start his speech. He’s been thinking for a while and now it’s time for him to share his reasonings out loud. 

“You want me to be honest, and I will be,” he says. He might come across as argumentative, but he’s merely sharing what he thought. “I’ve been observing the same people as you all night, and I’ve seen the same things you speak of  —  their eagerness to talk about their goals, their hopes for the future, the willingness to check off life achievements from a sort of shared to-do list.”

Taerae listens to him attentively, as he eats the cake in front of him. So Matthew continues. “I think most of them are not as superficial as you make them out to be, though. I feel like they’re just like us, in a way. People with their own set of insecurities and hardships and who look at their goals, their reached goals, as demonstrations that they’re more than their self-doubt. I might be filled with questions, they may think, but at least my boss trusts me enough to have given me a promotion. Or, my job might be fucking stressful but at least I got to buy a cool house, an amazing car and that has to be enough for now.” 

Taerae hums. “It’s a nice perspective,” he concedes. 

“I understand why you’d think that they’re all incredibly superficial, just because they tend to focus on the achievement and not on the background of it, on the behind-the-scenes. And that makes them come off as pretentious.”

Taerae knows Matthew pretty well, too. Because he asks: “And yet?”

“And yet, you say that you came here to basically assess your moral superiority. Doesn’t that make you pretentious as well? Aren’t you just the same? You don’t flex your elegant clothing, you don’t flex your costly car or a fancy apartment  —  which you have, by the way. You’re here to show off your detachment from the material temptations of it all, though. Your superior awareness of the things that truly matter in life. Aren’t you the same, then?”

Taerae takes time to ponder this. “It might be true,” he says. “And it’s my fault for wanting to be next to people I don’t like that much,” he also adds. “So, does this mean that you’re sick of my pretentiousness? That it’s finally clear why you got away?”

Matthew, surprisingly, laughs. And, once more, he reaches out to touch Taerae’s hand. “It’s not what I said, though,” he smiles. It’s so bright. 

“But the things you said,” Taerae picks up. “Thank you for saying them, thank you for always making me see the world in a less dry way.”

“Is that a way to say that I keep making you cry?” Matthew jokes. But he’s the first to dismiss it, “Taerae, I would die if I didn’t have you to dissect things with. If I couldn’t talk about a single thing for hours, through all the mechanisms making it up, through all the nuances of the same thing. I like it when the person I’m talking to has a different perspective than mine, I like it when they’re open to hearing what I’m saying and to, maybe, change their mind a bit.” He pauses. “You talked about maturity, earlier. This is it, for me.” And then, “Even if you don’t end up changing your mind, even if you stay your little pretentious self, I know that you listen to me fully, I know no one else does.”

Taerae lets out the millionth sigh of the night. However, it’s so full of relief this time, that it only widens Matthew’s smile. Taerae closes his eyes, as he brings his other hand on top of his and Matthew’s already joined hands. Still smiling, Matthew blinks a few times, then he dares to reach out, stroke his cheek, let his fingers linger on the softness of Taerae’s skin. He can’t look away from the way Taerae squeezes his eyes shut, his eyebrows tensing, his breath stuttering. Matthew lets his thumb rub circles on Taerae’s cheekbone, then moves on to comb his hair behind his ear. It’s tender, it’s downright religious on some levels, and it’s like no one else is left around them. Only the two of them, at a ghost-like table, at a deserted party. Them  —  the thickness of Taerae’s hair and the rhythm of both their hearts, pounding, hammering, echoing. 

Scene 5

The scene has moved. They’re now outside, coats on, and there’s a taxi waiting for them. 

The backseat of the taxi feels, once more, like a private bubble. It’s ill-lit, the only amount of light coming from the streetlights illuminating the outside. It casts bright, yellowish shadows on them, it puts their profiles in such a stark contrast with the darkness surrounding them. Their shapes are at the same time harsh and malleable. 

Taerae is looking outside, from his side. And Matthew is doing the same, eyes on the other half of the world as divided by the dimensions of a car. Without looking away from the window, Matthew reaches out to take Taerae’s hand again. Their fingers twine together, tangling in ways intimate and practiced. 

“Taerae,” Matthew’s voice is hushed, as if afraid to break the spell of quiet and serenity that the taxi casts around them. “I was thinking.”

“Hm?”

“I know that tonight was kind of a miracle,” he keeps his tone soft. “That right now it feels like we’re living in a place where nothing can touch us, that we feel invincible and blessed.”

“Is that so?” Taerae matches his tone. He throws a quick glance at Matthew, too. 

“It won’t be like this, not always, but also tomorrow already it will be, it will feel different. Life will come at us again,” he sighs, softly. “And we will not be happy all the time, we will be angry a lot of the time, even.”

“Matthew-” Taerae’s invocation feels tinged with worry. 

“I’m just saying,” Matthew goes on. “That we need to believe in what we’re doing. We have to believe that growing up together will be the best thing we can have. That being side by side is a privilege, because it is.”

Taerae turns to look at him. The smile playing on his lips is bright even when there’s no streetlight to highlight it. “I need to change a lot of things in my life,” he says. “I can’t keep being as stuck as I’ve been all this time. I-” a brief pause. “I want to retrieve something else from my past, not just this ,” he nods at the way they’re still touching each other. “I need to find new balances, new paths.”

“If you go back to singing,” Matthew catches up without effort. “Do I get to help you write songs?”

Taerae lets out a sound that’s not a sigh and it’s not a laugh. It’s both. It’s everything. “Matt,” he starts. And he stops there. He’s looking at Matthew like nothing else exists in the whole world, and Matthew shivers right there. And then he’s scooting closer to Taerae, and he’s grabbing at the lapels of his coat, because he needs Taerae to understand that it doesn’t matter what shape the future ends up taking, what matters is that there’s a space for him with Taerae. 

“Matt,” Taerae repeats, and there’s an undertone of urgency right there. 

“You haven’t answered,” Matthew points out. It’s half breathless. 

Taerae closes his eyes. “Is it not obvious?” Matthew shakes his head. “You get to do anything you want,” Taerae whispers. “Except leaving me again, I guess,” he adds. “That’s the only hard line.”

Matthew’s eyes seem to contain all the stars in the sky. “Fair,” he smiles. “I’m in, then.”

If they could revive the first kiss they shared, it would be just like this one. Matthew leaning in eagerly, with a smile. Taerae surrendering with a soft sigh, his hands gently placed over Matthew’s hips. Slow peck after slow peck, warm breaths mingling into one. And then, the shortest pause, forehead against forehead. A joke, a reminder of where they are. A name whispered and a wish expressed. And then, again, the softness of lips against lips. A thousand kisses. And a thousand more. Just like the Latin poet said, until they lose count of it. 

THE END

(curtain)

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