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“Happily ever after, huh?”
Jun-ho chuckles, hot breath visible in the cold air.
“I’d like to believe it’s possible.”
“Sure,” purrs Ki-yong, foxlike and impossibly tender. “We all want to believe things, jagiya. It doesn’t make them true.”
He exhales, and the smoke from his cigarette floats away, lone in the night. The two men watch it as it does.
Upstairs, the door opens and the loud Balkan music escapes for a moment, before the person shuts it behind them. Then comes the sound of a lighter clicking, and of another breath out.
“True love—” Ki-yong breaks the silence, gesturing, and the cigarette smoke outlines his movements— “exists only in fairytales; and even then, it’s awfully toxic, isn’t it? Princes kissing their princesses with no consent, age gaps, threats of violence and death…”
Jun-ho looks him up and down.
“All of that has happened to us.”
Ki-yong grins his cat-like grin.
“I know,” he assures, voice silky smooth. “That’s precisely my point.”
Jun-ho moves, angling his body towards him. The pavement skids the slightest bit under his boot, thin ice breaking at the contact. The detective’s eyes meet those of the criminal. These labels, once crucial to identifying one another, are supposed to be in the past. Jun-ho, however, can’t help but remember the unlikelihood of them.
And neither, apparently, can Ki-yong.
“Do you not believe in happy endings?” Jun-ho asks, tracing the other’s gaze for his reaction, any reaction. His pupils dilating, his eyes widening.
Ki-yong’s eyes crinkle in laughter.
“How can one believe?” he guffaws. “The science doesn’t lie. The statistics are real. The truth is on display for everyone to see.”
“And what is the truth?”
Ki-yong narrows his eyes. There’s an amused twinkle in his eye, a muscle tug indicating pity.
“That life doesn’t end happily, and love doesn’t last.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Ki-yong laughs once more. “My dear boy,” he smiles, “I’ve lived longer than you, and have plenty more experience to go by.”
“And yet, you avoid the subject.”
To that, Ki-yong’s smile turns cold.
“You’ll run away, Jun-ho.”
Jun-ho looks at Ki-yong.
“And when you do…”
Ki-yong looks away, blowing smoke.
“…I won’t be surprised.”
The door opens again. Jun-ho looks up to the staircase to see they’d been watched; the culprit slips back into the party, faceless, and music blares once more. Jun-ho recognizes swear words and misogynistic slurs. Peak Romanian music, Ki-yong had called it.
Jun-ho closes the small distance between them with a few steps, reaching for Ki-yong’s cigarette. Ki-yong looks up at him, leveling him with a glance. Then, he brings it up to Jun-ho’s mouth for him to take a puff.
Jun-ho wraps his lips around the end of the cigarette, not taking his eyes away from Ki-yong. He inhales deeply, eyes watering, but holds his breath – and with it, his ground – and then gives a soft exhale.
“Ki-yong,” he whispers, the word hoarse with lingering smoke. But it’s all he manages in this moment, and his voice dies in his throat.
Ki-yong, for all his pessimism and supposed hatred, is still looking at him.
“Ki-yong,” Jun-ho tries once more as he meets his eye. For once, the ice in it appears to melt. For once, he’s human. “We have to try.”
Ki-yong looks away. Jun-ho grabs his face and forces him to look at him.
“Ki-yong,” he begs, “we have to try.”
Ki-yong looks at Jun-ho.
“You’re right,” he finally concludes, “you should try. Try with someone equally as rotten as yourself – which is to say, not at all.”
He looks up. The stars are barely visible.
The smile on his face remains, but it’s torn and difficult to see. More than anything, it’s contorted, unreal. A mimic, a trial for happiness that doesn’t quite meet his eye.
Jun-ho looks at Ki-yong.
“But we still love each other,” he murmurs, barely there, “rot or not.” Weaker, “Don’t we?”
Ki-yong doesn’t hesitate when he replies, “We do.” He only pauses before adding, “But love without labor—”
“I’ll do the damn labor, Ki-yong. We both will. We can do that, can’t we?”
Ki-yong studies Jun-ho.
“Is it worth it?”
“Yes,” replies Jun-ho without even having to think. “Yes, Ki-yong, it’s worth it for you. For us.”
Ki-yong smiles at him.
“Us,” he repeats, as if an unfathomable equation.
“Us,” echoes Jun-ho, the word bittersweet on his tongue.
Music bursts a third time onto the small balcony, and out come the bride and groom, looking for refuge. They don’t notice Ki-yong and Jun-ho, partially hidden under the staircase. They’re laughing.
“A happily ever after,” Jun-ho murmurs against his skin, burying his face in the nape of Ki-yong’s neck.
Ki-yong looks at Jun-ho. Jun-ho looks up at Ki-yong through his eyelashes.
“Which I’d like to believe is possible.”
Ki-yong looks at him for a while more before smiling. Upstairs, Jun-ho hears the Romanian word for hope.
“We all want to believe things, jagiya…”
“Let’s make them true.”
“Haide,” they hear.
Ki-yong’s cigarette is worn by now. One puff remains. He gives it to Jun-ho, the younger taking it between his index and middle fingers. A short drag, a long exhale, and the last trail of smoke flies into the sky.
The door slams shut after a few wistful notes from Tudor Chirilă’s Epilog. The laughter of the newlyweds lingers in the night.
As Jun-ho lets the final bit of smoke escape his lips, Ki-yong leans in and kisses him. It’s short, but gentle, chaste. There’s a tenderness to it that shows a willingness to try.
“You taste of ash,” he complains as he pulls away.
“It’s your fault.”
Ki-yong smirks devilishly and extends a hand out to him.
“Let’s go back inside. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
Jun-ho takes his hand and lets him lead the way. They climb the half-frozen stairs carefully, and stop in the doorway.
“We should have some champagne. I want to make a toast.”
Jun-ho quirks an eyebrow. “For the bride and groom?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t even know them.”
Ki-yong pulls him in by his waist, and Jun-ho allows himself to selfishly bathe in his gaze.
“To us.”
His smile reaches his eyes.
“…To hope.”
And Jun-ho stares up at him, more in love with him than ever.
“To hope,” he repeats and means it. He figures – knows – that, for once, Ki-yong does, too.