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“And we’re here… why?” Seongjun asks, trying to feign apathy. His fingers dig into the grass around him, the bristles poking at his fingers. A long time has passed since he had gotten used to this feeling.
He needed to get used to it. Being… friends with Gyujin meant going on journeys like this. Exploring nature, inhaling fresh wind, watching tiny critters scamper in the grass. It also meant getting used to ant bites, itchy grass, and pigeons flocking around and looking for food.
Kang Seongjun, someone who likes to stay inside and play Call of Duty, does not favor sitting outside and shaking hands with the natural world.
“Because I got inspiration and I need to act on it now!”
But he can put up with it if it means making Park Gyujin happy.
The said man turns around upon hearing Seongjun’s complaint. A pout forms on his lips, the golden sun shining over his hair. Around him, the wind seems to sing a soft tune. “I told you that you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to!” he scolds. The hands gripping his disposable camera tremble in his mild vexation.
Park Gyujin does not have an attitude. In contrast, he actually is one of the most pleasant people Seongjun knows. He shares his smile with everyone, talks to anyone in front of him, and loves to meet new people. He often gives gifts to new friends, calling it a “token of their friendship.”
Only under one circumstance does he ever get angry: when someone bothers him during his photography time. Seongjun knows this, and so he often makes remarks for the purpose of hearing Gyujin rile with emotion.
In his lap sits Gyujin’s book bag, full of folders and binders of photos. Seongjun clutches it close to his chest as he scoffs. “Did I say I didn’t want to be here? I’m just asking why this specific setting.”
Usually, Gyujin takes him to populated areas. He likes to take photos of the city to capture what people do in their free-time. Watching people live day-to-day fascinates Gyujin. To Gyujin, as he once said…
Everyone leads a different life. We should appreciate everyone’s differences because that’s what builds a society.
He likes finding what makes people so different. Why everyone goes through different experiences, yet can function perfectly fine in a robust society. That is often his center of focus when taking photos.
So for him to bring Seongjun to a more secluded place is quite bizarre, even for Gyujin. Gyujin currently stands in a field of plain grass with his shoes off. His fingers wrap confidently around his disposable camera, and he looks around for the subject he wants to photograph.
Truthfully, Seongjun thinks there is nothing to photograph but the grass… and maybe the setting Sun. “I mean,” he expands, taking a look around him. “There isn’t much to look at here.”
This makes Gyujin sigh in exasperation. He makes his way over to where Seongjun sits, his socks dirty from the soil, and looks down at him with his hands on his hips.
“Do you know anything about nature, huh? Do you, oh wise one?” Gyujin mocks, rolling his eyes. He crouches down and places his hands on his knees. The disposable hangs off his neck and trails behind his bent knees.
Having Gyujin so close makes Seongjun’s heart skip delightfully. He tries to stifle his excitement, along with the urge to pull Gyujin closer. Instead, he simply tilts his head with a grin. “Am I wise? Is that what you think of me?” he teases, subtly flirting.
He can flirt as much as he wants; he knows Gyujin will never pick it up. “You clearly are not wise if you cannot see the beauty in the nature around you.” Gyujin takes a hand off his knee and thumps Seongjun’s forehead with his finger. “You are a dumbass. That is what I think of you.”
“I’m quite hurt,” Seongjun faux-pouts. “Is that why you like nature more than you like me?”
Upon hearing this, Gyujin retracts his hand with a look of disbelief. “Don’t bring my nature into this. I only take photographs of the most important things, and nature is important. It’s not my fault your two brain cells only work for Call of Duty.”
My two brain cells only work for you. Seongjun, in all honesty, is too cowardly to say it directly.
For the longest time, longer than he has known Gyujin, Seongjun has carried the burden of love. His attraction towards Gyujin started as a simple crush, as it always does. He found the little parts of Gyujin to be alluringly demure.
The way he presents himself, so confident and demanding. The way he talks to others, amiable and with a full heart. Even the way he walks around, high purely on his self-energy and need to know. What Seongjun likes the most about Gyujin is his curiosity.
Seongjun approached him in their first year of high school. Becoming friends with him had been a walk in the park; Gyujin would talk to anyone. It took a little longer, and a lot of effort, to become truly close to him.
He knew they grew a bond when Gyujin invited him out to take photographs with him. Since then, Seongjun has been the holder of Gyujin’s bookbag, which conceals all of the photographs Gyujin has ever taken.
All the photographs Gyujin has never let him see. In their seven-year friendship, three since Gyujin has shared his love for photography, Seongjun has never seen a single photo.
Seongjun holds no animosity against this. Rather, it enlivens him that Gyujin chose him to keep his hobby a secret with. He trusts that Seongjun will never step out of his boundaries—this alone makes Seongjun happy enough. He thinks he can live off the sentiment for decades to come.
Not even in his next life will he forget the tender acts of affection from Park Gyujin.
The acts of affection… that come from their friendship. Best friendship, if one will. “Just take your photographs,” Seongjun says, lowering his voice into a gentle fondness. “I want to see what you will come up with.”
To this, Gyujin laughs. He lowers his head when he chuckles, hair shining from the Sun. Seongjun willingly mesmerizes himself in the way Gyujin acts. Everything about him—his laughter, hair, disposable camera—makes Seongjun’s heart beat erratically.
Then, Gyujin looks back up at Seongjun. Sunny incandescence flows in his eyes. It sends Seongjun deeper into his daze. “I know you do,” Gyujin replies, standing back up and walking further into the grassy fields.
Suddenly, the grassy fields do not look as empty. Though they flutter devoid of flowers and small critters, Gyujin’s presence fills them entirely. Everywhere Gyujin walks, Seongjun thinks, he carries the fulfillment of life with him.
The bookbag feels heavy against his lap. He looks down at it, more curious than ever on what could be inside. He wants to see life through Gyujin’s perspective, too. He also wants to see what is so special about the way the birds sing and the way people exist.
He looks back up at Gyujin’s departing figure. The curiosity dissipates as he watches Gyujin bring his camera up to his eye, scanning around the field to find a good spot to photograph.
“Just watching you is enough,” Seongjun whispers to himself.
Seongjun jumps when Gyujin turns back around out of nowhere. His eyes go wide in the fear that Gyujin might have heard him. “Kang Seongjun,” he calls.
A few moments of pause go by. Seongjun swallows, aching from the anticipation of what Gyujin might say. Would he be disgusted? Curious once more?
“I forgot my extra film in the car,” he says with an aggrieved sigh. Seongjun also sighs from the revelation, though for an entirely different reason. “Can you go get it for me? It is in the middle compartment.”
“How much do you need?” Seongjun asks, getting up and brushing the stray grass strands off his pants.
“Just bring the entire pack. I like this place a lot,” Gyujin answers. He turns back around and resumes the work with his disposable camera, angling it every so often to get different perspectives.
Again, Seongjun is confused on what could possibly be so enticing to Gyujin… but he knows better than to question his charming oddities. Carefully placing the bookbag on the vibrant grass, he turns around and begins to make his way back to the parking lot.
Due to being in such a secluded area, their car is not hard to find. The entire lot empties of any other activity. Seongjun reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys, unlocking the car and pulling the driver’s door open.
He has no problem driving Gyujin around. Any time Gyujin expresses the desire to go somewhere, Seongjun lets him punch the address into his phone. He follows the directions, oftentimes not knowing where Gyujin takes them.
A lot of Gyujin’s photography stuff finds a home inside of his car. He does not usually let Gyujin drive, finding thrill in the way only Gyujin knows where to go. On the dashboard of his car sits a photo Seongjun personally took of the two of them, where Gyujin led them into the city and took photos of the hustle.
Seongjun sits in the driver seat and leans into the car. He opens up the middle compartment to look for the packet of film when something else catches his eye. It makes his world go still, even as the wind continues to hum in his ears.
His heart stops. He swallows.
What is this?
With a shaky hand, Seongjun reaches into the middle compartment. There, on top of the other objects Gyujin has stored inside, Seongjun finds a photograph.
It is me.
The reality of it makes Seongjun gasp. He lets the photo drop from his astonishment, his heart beating wildly against his chest. He can hear it, feel it, making its way up to his ears and the stream inside his neck. His mouth slightly parts from the shock.
“Gyujin…” He cannot help the words leaving his mouth. He breathes his name like the wind sings its song, completely immersed in wonder and curiosity.
Seongjun reaches into the compartment again and pulls out the photograph for a second time. He swallows harshly as he gets a closer look at it, staring at himself.
This is the first time Seongjun has ever seen anything Gyujin has photographed. The little details on his face stand out—the crinkle of his shut eyes, his face mid-laughter. In the photo, he sits on a desk with his hands holding onto the sides of it, head tilted down as he laughs at something.
Something Gyujin had said. Seongjun remembers this moment vividly.
“We’ve been friends for four years, and you think I’ll judge you for a hobby?” Seongjun laughed. The sunlight streamed into the empty lecture hall, filtering through the curtains and lighting anything in its path with a faint golden glow.
The sunset had begun to set. Already, owls began to come out of their hiding spots and hum light tunes. Seongjun and Gyujin should’ve returned to their respective dorms by now, but they decided to stay longer. After their last class, they simply wanted to spend time together.
So now, they sat in the empty lecture hall, which slowly filled from the sounds of their voices and the twinkle of their joint laughter.
Laughter, mostly on the end of Seongjun. He continued to tease Gyujin. “You are going to judge me! You are much more popular than me!” Gyujin defended himself, crossing his arms. Unlike Seongjun, he sat on one of the chairs rather than the desk.
However, the two of them still sat close. Gyujin angled his body toward where Seongjun’s legs hung off the side of the desk, inching closer with every word. The close contact nearly drove Seongjun crazy. How badly did he want to wrap his legs around Gyujin’s frame and kiss him senseless.
“What does being popular have to do with anything?” Seongjun asked, a little hurt by the comment. In his heart, he knew he could never judge anything about Gyujin. Every part of him was handsomely defined in Seongjun’s eyes. “You think I would put being popular above you?”
“No! I just think…” Gyujin trailed off at the end, sparking Seongjun’s curiosity even more.
In the end… “Just leave me alone!”
His stubbornness roused amusement inside of Seongjun. He could not help laughing out loud, tilting his head down to hide his chuckle. Even when so adamant on Seongjun’s character, which he completely misunderstood at the time, he made a pretty show out of his emotions.
That had been the moment. Seongjun recalls it with a burning heart. He did not notice Gyujin pulling out his camera, his tiniest green one, and snapping a photo of Seongjun before quickly placing it back inside his bookbag.
Seongjun looked back up at Gyujin, who was now standing from the heated emotions igniting inside of him. “Hey, you’re a complete idiot,” was all he could say, still chuckling.
“You’re also a complete idiot! That is why I won’t tell you.” Gyujin grabbed his bookbag from his side and turned toward Seongjun. “Let me out. I want to go back to my dorm now.”
The look on his face—so defiant and intense—made Seongjun want to pry into him a little more. Today, he would find out Gyujin’s hobby that he had kept concealed for so long. “If you tell me, I’ll let you go,” Seongjun hummed. He kept his legs planted firm on the seat in front of him, closing off the area Gyujin needed to go through.
With a displeased sigh, Gyujin crossed his arms in front of him. “Do you promise you won’t make fun of me?”
“If I wanted to make fun of you, I would never have chosen to get close to you.”
“Just promise me, Seongjun!”
Seongjun extended his pinky finger in Gyujin’s direction. He watched Gyujin look down at it with a confused expression, buying another chuckle out of him. “I pinky promise it to you,” he said calmly.
A few seconds passed. Then, Gyujin stuck his own pinky out and looped it against Seongjun’s. The connection electrocuted Seongjun’s heart when they stamped their thumbs together.
Afterward, Gyujin caved in. He kept his pinky locked with Seongjun’s, speaking in a hushed, flustered tone. “I like photography.”
“Park Gyujin, I told you to be—”
“I’m serious!” Gyujin stammered. “I like photography, and I like it a lot.”
At first, Seongjun really thought Gyujin to be messing with him. Would he really make a fuss over a hobby so sincere? So intimate? The thought of Seongjun ever judging him for such an earnest recreation… Seongjun could never imagine it.
“Why would I judge you for photography? You better not be lying to me, Gyujin,” Seongjun said with a smile. “What is so embarrassing about that?”
“Nothing is embarrassing about photography! I just did not…” Gyujin’s words trailed off again.
“Did not…?”
“Did not want you to judge me. Instead of smoking like your other friends, I like to appreciate nature. I was scared you would think it was silly,” Gyujin explained honestly. His head tilted down as the words poured out, all genuine and full of notion.
Seongjun could not speak for a little while. He took in Gyujin’s words, and he wanted to tread carefully on his emotions. He tried to pick the best words to say.
The best actions, too. He raised his other hand, the one not locked with the pinky, and patted the top of Gyujin’s head. The loose strands of hair intertwined with his fingers. “Nothing about you could ever be silly, Gyujin. If you like photography, then I do, too. What kind of person would I be if I judged you for being simply yourself?”
When Seongjun went home that night, he threw out the rest of his cigarettes.
Sensations of all sorts—love, confusion, allure—fill Seongjun as he stares at the photograph. Three years have passed since then, the picture making him look youthful, but Gyujin chose to keep the photo with him. He carries it around with him and even leaves it in Seongjun’s middle compartment.
“What the fuck, Park Gyujin?” Seongjun laughs in disbelief. “What does this even mean?”
Seongjun cannot stop himself from asking. He grabs the photo, disregarding the packet of film inside the middle compartment, and sprints out of the car. He just barely manages to close it before running back to the grassy field.
The wind whips past his ears, dragging along his hair and disheveling it, as he runs to Gyujin. A multitude of thoughts rattle his head, begging for answers, but he does not have the time to focus on them. Right now, at this very moment, he only wants to see Gyujin.
Seeing him would cure the suspense in his heart.
Eventually, he makes his way to where Gyujin is. He still stands on the grassy fields, camera hanging off his neck and looking off into the distance.
“Park Gyujin!” Seongjun calls, wasting no time. The exhilaration of running comes over him at once, and he leans over to put his hands on his knees. His breaths come uneven, and he can only see the way the grass dances around his shoes.
Gyujin jogs over to him, voice shaking from worry. “Seongjun? What happened? Are you okay?” he asks immediately, placing a hand on top of Seongjun’s shoulder.
His touch nearly, completely, revives Seongjun. He straightens his posture and holds up the photo in his hand. Gyujin’s eyes go wide when he realizes what Seongjun found in the middle compartment. “What is this?” he snaps in ambition.
“Seongjun—”
“Do you like me, too?” Seongjun’s words make Gyujin go quiet. Gyujin stares at him with his bright, fervent eyes. In them, Seongjun can see a collage of all the important things he has photographed.
Gyujin does not say anything. He simply stares at Seongjun, rendered speechless from seeing the photo in Seongjun’s hand. Seongjun can see the bewilderment in his eyes.
Eventually: “What?”
The words rush out of Seongjun. He speaks without thinking, only acting on the impulse to unravel Gyujin; figure out what really goes on inside of his mind. “You said—” he swallows.
“You said you only take pictures of important things. You love taking pictures. It’s your hobby. You can’t stand spending your free time doing something that is not photography.” Seongjun’s feelings tip over wholly. “Am I important to you? Is that why you kept this? Do you really like me?”
Gyujin still cannot bring himself to answer. His fingers clutch around his camera, shaking while who-knows-what runs through his head. It becomes hard for Seongjun to bear with, too. “If you do not answer, I’ll—”
“And what?!” Gyujin suddenly exclaims. His head shoots down, but it hardly does anything to hide the redness floundering up to his ears. The very tips of it burn like the setting Sun behind him.
Seongjun pauses, but Gyujin continues to disentangle right in front of his eyes. “Yes, I do like you! And what about it? I take photos of things that are important to me… and you’re important to me, too. Is that a crime?” Gyujin’s head shifts up, catching Seongjun off-guard.
Everything Gyujin says, and has wanted to say, prances in the rich color of his eyes. “Am I not allowed to take photos of you? I won’t do it anymore, just say the word, and I’ll—”
…I do like you. And what about it?
Acting on sincere longing, Seongjun brings his hands up. The photo of himself flutters to the ground as he grabs Gyujin’s face, tilting his head all the way up and pressing their lips together. The tension taut in Seongjun’s chest unfurls with the ecstatic contact.
Their lips naturally move together, as if destined to be slotted against each other in this way. Gyujin wastes no time in reciprocating the touch. His hands grab onto Seongjun’s shoulders, and he stands on his toes to fully press himself against Seongjun.
Seongjun pries into his mouth with his tongue. His eagerness to be closer to Gyujin, feel more of him, overrides his rational senses. His hands grasp the sides of Gyujin’s shirt in desperation when Gyujin parts his mouth, an enticing invitation for Seongjun.
The wet sounds of their kiss, the small groans elicited out of Gyujin, deliciously fill Seongjun’s ears for a long time. He cannot help himself, cannot get enough of him. He wants to extort everything out of Gyujin and lay him bare.
Park Gyujin, his mind blissfully, the feeling of him on his tongue.
Eventually, his jaw tires from the incessant kissing. He tugs on Gyujin’s lip as he pulls himself back, letting their kiss fizzle out with a pop. Their breathing shakes in sync; they come down from the rush of emotions.
Gyujin speaks first. “I took more photos of you,” he murmurs. It shocks Seongjun, and Gyujin keeps talking. “They’re all in the bookbag. I take at least one every time you come out with me.”
“Is that why you never let me look inside?” Seongjun asks.
A hasty nod hides the growing rouge spreading across Gyujin’s cheeks. “I did not know what you would say.”
“I don’t think I would have said anything.” He laughs when Gyujin hits his chest from the remark, thoroughly abashed from the truth of his photographs coming to light. “Can I see?”
Hearing the question, Gyujin tilts his head back up. “It’s a little embarrassing.”
“I thought we already established there is nothing I could ever make fun of you for.” Seongjun leans down and picks up the fallen photo. He stares at it meaningfully before holding it up, a playful smile carving his face. “I find this more endearing than embarrassing.”
The wind whistles once more in their direction. The fabric of their clothes rustle together as they stand close, taking in the warmth of each other and never wanting to let go. Gyujin’s hands tremble on Seongjun’s shoulders as he laughs, the absurdity of his truth hitting him cleanly.
Watching him laugh, falling back into his morphed world of thrill, Seongjun laughs, too. His head knocks against Gyujin’s, and he relishes in the moment. Everything about each other belongs to them, and them only.
They have all the time in the world to go through the photos. They have all the time in the world to finally blend their lives together. But for now, this moment of all-knowing sits lovely in his heart.
All he needs right now is to hold Gyujin, and everything else will fall into place with due time.
Gyujin had said he only takes photos of important things. Kang Seongjun, who listens to Park Gyujin’s laughter with devotion blossoming in his heart, thinks he might pick up photography, too.