Chapter Text
acadia is nothing like seoul.
the realisation settles over jiung the moment he turns away from the uber. the door clicks shut behind him, and the crisp scent of fresh snow and pine needles pulls his attention to the open world ahead of him.
evergreen branches reach towards the pale winter sky, their dark, waxy leaves cutting through drifting snow. a broad-winged bird glides overhead without a single flap of its wings. chimney smoke rises in thin ribbons before dissolving into the blue silhouettes of distant mountains.
the hum of the engine fades away as the car disappears back down the street, and the world plunges into a foreign sort of quiet. apart from the occasional birdsong and the rustle of something small disappearing into the underbrush, silence stretches on for minutes at a time. and for a while, jiung doesn't move. he doesn't protest. he remains as still and quiet as this new environment.
his hand finds the camera at his hip without thinking, and he lifts it to his face.
the exposure is already dialled in. the shutter gives way beneath his finger with a soft click that cuts through the silence, but his eyes never meet the viewfinder. the camera returns to his hip before he ever blinks.
frigid air begins to reach through the threads of his gloves. the breeze prickles at his exposed cheeks and steals the moisture from his nose. he sniffles, pressing the back of his hand against his face, then returns his grip to the handle of his suitcase. the little plastic wheels teeter back and forth with overlapping clicks and thuds as he drags it behind him, the occasional rock kicking up beneath his steps. the noise generated by his steps echoes far longer than it seems it should.
before long, the trees begin to thin ever so slightly. the forest peels back just enough to reveal three little cabins nested in a small opening, positioned around an unlit campfire. a folding chair sits forgotten by the side, a toppled bundle of firewood gathered at the leg.
the camera lifts again. the humble buildings snap into focus. jiung's boots shift against the gravel with a soft crunch as the three cabins settle into the frame. he adjusts the composition by a fraction, and the shutter clicks.
the camera lowers in front of his chest again, his eyes adjusting to the photo captured on the screen. his attention catches on an orange snow shovel leaning up against the porch of the leftmost cabin. a black pickup truck rests beside it, a thin layer of fresh snow settling across the bonnet.
he glances up at the cabin. no smoke curls from the chimney ahead, no lights illuminate the windows. the dusting of snow atop the driveway holds the indentation of boots, fading beneath the newly fallen layers.
jiung turns back toward the rightmost cabin. the porch steps creak under his weight as he climbs, and so do the hinges on the front door.
the interior unfolds before him, far roomier than its weathered exterior would suggest. bare wooden floors catch the sunlight spilling through open blinds. a king-size bed sits to the left beneath crisp white sheets, a matching couch to the right. the faint scent of coffee and fabric softener lingers in the air, though the room is no warmer than the flurry outside.
plastic wheels scrape across the floor as he drags the suitcase towards the couch. his backpack slips from his shoulder onto the cushions with a muted thud.
the thermostat sits waiting for him by the door. its screen lights up faintly under his command, blinking briefly at a calm 68.
"…68?" jiung mumbles to himself, his brows furrowing. "subtract 32… divide by… one… and…" a soft sigh escapes his nose. "whatever."
his fingers pause on the controls. he ups it two ticks to 70 and waits for the display to fade back to black. the heater clicks somewhere deep within the wall, and he steps back outside, granting the house time to respond.
it'll take some time, but the park doesn't seem to be in any rush. just beyond the roofs, the mountains await.
natural skyscrapers like these have always existed at the edge of jiung's life. they've watched over him for as long as he can remember, rising beyond the skyline whenever the air eased with unfiltered sunlight. sitting quietly beyond rows of apartment blocks and office towers, blue sentinels against the horizon, too far away to ever seem real. landmarks more than landscapes. he's seen them a thousand times without ever wondering what it may feel like to stand on one.
here, for the first time, they don't mark the edge of the earth. they mark the start of it. the forest swallows the last stretch of road, and whatever beyond belongs to the mountains.
snow dusts the bark in delicate white seams. sunlight filters through the branches in fractured columns, catching on needles that sway almost imperceptibly in the wind. jiung lowers himself into the snow until the cold seeps through his jeans, angling the camera skyward.
the shutter clicks once. twice. the lens twists to the left. it clicks again. he closes one eye and squints. click.
the camera lowers, but for a moment, jiung remains oriented toward the sky. puffy white clouds linger overhead, the snowflakes nearly imperceptible until they land on his skin.
he eases himself onto a fallen log to pull his sunglasses off. the sleeve of his parka clears droplets from the screen with a crinkly swish, his thumb beginning to flip through the captures.
click. good. click. could be better. click. decent. click. not great. click.
jiung tilts his head at the next photo. green against white. branches shaping the frame. nice contrast. that's the one.
a boot lifts from where it had disappeared under the cushion of snow.
it pauses midair.
a squirrel darts up a nearby trunk. birds chatter somewhere above. no voices. no footsteps. no bike tyres. no keys jingling.
his brow furrows. he turns to the left, taking a few strides before pausing again.
he raises the camera to compare against the image before him. snow crunches under his shoes as he pivots slowly, searching for the perfect match. the forest looks the same in every direction.
he lets the camera falls back to his chest with a sigh. the sunglasses settle on his nose again as he picks a direction and starts forward.
he walks. snow compresses beneath each step with a soft, rhythmic crunch. the trees drift past one after another, each trunk giving way to another that looks almost identical. every so often he glances back down at the device in his hands, comparing the angle of light to the photographs he'd already taken. the sun inches brighter and higher the further he goes.
then, somewhere, someone hums.
jiung stops.
the melody fades before it becomes a song. wind stirs the branches overhead. a crow calls once in the distance.
jiung takes a few steps forward, eyes sweeping the scene ahead. he turns toward the sound, only for it to disappear, then return again somewhere over his shoulder.
he turns again, slower this time. the melody comes and goes with the wind, never lingering long enough to follow. it slips between the trees, carried somewhere beyond the endless pattern of bark and winter.
then, something interrupts the palette abruptly. a flicker of red. not a cardinal. not a maple leaf. too bright, too deliberate. the colour catches his eye immediately, startling against the muted forest. it doesn't belong, and yet it sits so naturally beneath the trees that, for a moment, he wonders whether he's imagined it.
it hangs motionless between the trunks, then spins once just before disappearing again as jiung shifts his weight.
he takes a step closer. the umbrella comes into view. a splash of crimson suspended among snow-covered pines.
he changes course almost without thinking.
he trudges through the snow now reaching his ankles, the camera rising almost of its own accord. the red umbrella grows larger beneath the trees. beneath it, a metal easel planted firmly into the snow. a gloved hand moves across a canvas with steady strokes.
"♪ you're old as he was when i left for war… ♪ … hm… that's not the right color. … ♪ close your eyes and spare yourself the view… ♪ "
jiung pauses. his knees bend slightly, eyes narrowing against the viewfinder. it focuses in on the red umbrella. click.
it tilts lazily as the painter glances over his shoulder. his eyes settle on the camera in jiung's hands, then returns to his face. "...want me to pose?"
jiung blinks. "...what?"
"hang on." the stranger plants his paintbrush between his teeth to toss one end of his orange scarf across his back. the umbrella lifts a bit higher as he turns back to the canvas. "better?"
"...you actually want me to?"
he laughs. "yeah, why not?"
hesitantly, the camera raises again. it steadies in his grasp. he takes a step to the left, and the stranger disappears behind the viewfinder. his thumb rolls across the rear dial, and the snow brightens in response. the red umbrella settles into a richer shade, no longer swallowed by shadow. better.
the lens turns beneath his fingertips with a soft, rubbery rasp. the background trees soften until they become little more than washes of green and white. the canvas remains crisp. the umbrella. the scarf. the gloved hand hovering hardly an inch from the developing canvas.
he shifts another half-step to the right. a branch slips neatly out of frame. perfect. click.
"hm…" he narrows his eyes at the viewfinder. "step back with your right foot?"
snow rustles under the movement.
jiung half-presses the shutter. the focus catches on the edge of the umbrella. no. another slight adjustment. the painter's shoulder sharpens into focus instead.
"...perfect." click. he lowers the camera. "thanks."
"my pleasure." the painter turns around, fully this time, the umbrella swapping shoulders to avoid knocking into the canvas. "where'd you come from?"
"huh?" jiung glances up. "oh, uh…" he gestures vaguely behind him at the spread of white ahead. "from… somewhere over there…"
the stranger shifts his weight, watching jiung silently.
"...i got lost."
he smiles knowingly. "you get the perfect shot?"
"...yeah."
"worth getting lost over?"
"...also yeah."
"good." the stranger laughs warmly, then steps forward to offer a hand in greeting. "keeho."
jiung meets his grip. "jiung."
once they break away, keeho's hand disappears into the pocket of his coat before returning with a small brass disc hanging from a worn leather cord. "know where you're trying to go?"
the question goes over his head as he nods to the disc. "...what's that?"
"compass." he raises the little device to the light, a smile lingering on his face. "never leave home without it."
"neat." he looks up. "uh… well, the sun was on my… right. when i got here around eleven."
"hm." keeho's eyes scan the horizon, brows furrowed in thought. then, he raises the compass to a vague direction over jiung's shoulder. "you want to go back south." the compass returns to his pocket. "i was just about to pack up if you want me to walk you."
"oh— yeah," jiung responds, slightly startled by the offer. "if it's not too much trouble."
"not at all."
plastic clinks as keeho begins to collect his belongings. jiung settles onto a nearby boulder, expecting the process to take a while.
it doesn't.
the palette disappears beneath a handful of fresh snow. keeho rubs it clean with the heel of his glove before wiping away the remaining moisture on a faded tea towel tucked into his bag. the brushes follow, one by one, wrapped carefully in the cloth before disappearing into a narrower canvas roll. the umbrella folds with a practiced flick, disappearing into the embrace of the towel.
the canvas never once leaves the open air. instead, keeho clips it snugly to the back of his backpack, where the paint catches the breeze untouched. every movement occurs in quick succession with practiced ease.
the metal easel folds in on itself with two quick movements.
jiung blinks.
"...is that a music stand?"
"yeah." it sways in his grasp as he hikes his backpack more comfortably onto his shoulders. "can you imagine dragging a whole easel out here?"
"i take it you do this often?"
"often enough." keeho rolls the stiffness from his body for a moment before starting off in the direction jiung had come from. "started when i was twelve." he nods to the camera. "how about you?"
jiung follows a few feet behind, fingers growing numb as he buries them into his pockets. "only last year. just needed something to do after work, and now…" he shrugs with a soft chuckle. "...and now i'm on a secluded mountain somewhere in maine."
keeho smiles. "funny where hobbies drag you, eh?"
"this place look familiar?"
jiung scans the empty car park. shrouded in the dwindling light of the leaving day, it looks different than it had this morning. the wooden sign is darker, the tyre tracks disappearing beneath fresh snow, a black rectangle in the asphalt where a vehicle had recently been.
"...yeah." he glances toward the horizon. then down at his watch. then back at the horizon. "...the hell?"
"what?"
"...it's almost dark. and it's half past three."
"...yeah?" keeho follows his gaze. "it was just after two when you ran into me."
"it was?"
he nods once, then swivels to reach into the side pocket of his backpack. fabric rustles for a moment as he withdraws a flashlight, tilting it toward jiung.
"it's easy to get lost once the sun goes down."
"o-oh." jiung chuckles awkwardly. "i… have one of those."
"alright." the flashlight returns to the side pocket as he trades it for a compass. "need one of these?"
a smirk pulls at jiung's mouth. he glances up at keeho's face. "why do you have two?"
"oh, i have four," he corrects matter-of-factly. "people get lost all the time."
a quiet snicker escapes jiung. "thanks. but… i think i have one of those too."
"...then how'd you manage to get lost?"
his shoulders pull into a tense shrug. "i've never used one before."
"really?"
he shakes his head.
keeho smiles and tilts the compass to face jiung. "this red arrow here," he taps the glass, "always points north. so if you wanna keep going south, keep it facing you."
"...that's it?"
"yeah." a grin stretches across his face. "unless you're in a volcano. or on mars."
"...i'll keep that in mind."
"good." he slips the compass back into jiung's hand with an approving nod. his eyes slowly part towards the dimming road ahead, something serious washing over his face. "stick to the trail this time. they tell a lot of scary stories about these woods for a reason."
jiung's face falls. "...really?"
keeho's grave expression lingers for only a moment longer before fracturing into a hearty laugh. "no, i'm just messing with you. not about sticking to the trail, though. don't go wandering off again."
"i…" jiung blinks, then lets out a playful scoff. "okay. thank you so much."
"yeah, don't mention it." he waves a hand dismissively before returning it to his pocket. snow crunches beneath his boots as he turns away. "i'm gonna try to beat sundown. but it was good to meet you, jiung."
jiung nods in return. "same to you."
the painter adjusts his grip on the music stand beneath one arm and turns back for the forest. jiung tilts his head curiously as he watches him disappear back beneath the dimming veil of the canopy, his quiet humming fading out just a few moments after he does.
jiung glances down at the compass in his hand. the arrow points back toward his chest. he heads forward down the side of the road.
the first few steps feel no different. then, the silence settles back over him. without meaningless conversation to fill the distance, each stride grows a little heavier than the last.
the asphalt feels strangely unforgiving after a day of stepping through the cushion of snow. every step lands harder than the last, the soles of his boots no longer sinking to soften the impact. the breeze no longer smells of pine, simply finding every gap between his gloves and sleeves. what had felt crisp that morning now stings. the only color left is the occasional reflector post along the roadside, the red umbrella never appearing again.
a heavy sigh releases from jiung's chest as the cabins eventually return into view as if they had been waiting all day. his flashlight casts a white cone of light up against the shadowed walls.
the windows of the leftmost cabin cast a faint yellow glow against the ground ahead. the snow is higher now, but a freshly shoveled path reaches toward the door, the boot tracks beside it recent. the powder has been dusted off the bonnet of the pickup truck, gathered unevenly around the tyres. even the orange shovel has been moved to the opposite side of the porch.
hunger pangs in the pit of jiung's stomach. dismissing the neighbor, he heads inside, and the tension releases from his body the moment the warmth envelops him.
hardly before the door closes, he reaches for the forgotten backpack on the couch. the fabric of his parka swishes with the movement as he withdraws a plastic bowl of noodles, peeling back the plastic covering on the way to the kitchen. the tap runs, the microwave beeps, and he all but strips as he waits, doffing his winter gear as sweat begins to bead on his forehead.
he reaches for the thermostat, eases it five ticks back down to 65, and returns to the microwave just as it sings again.
the scent of cheddar cheese and beef seasoning slowly dominate the lingering aroma of evergreen and ice. it's not ideal, but there will be better options after sunup.