To the love of my life and my life itself,

We first met at the till of a small antique bakery on that cosy little street in our youth.  Your hair was black back then, like mine was.  I remember it clearly, as if the past you were to stand before me now in youthful, beauteous glory.  You smelled like vanilla and mint and perfection and your skin looked so smooth and touchable - like a china doll, but soft and pillowy and velvet.  When you asked for my order, the confectionary in mind tumbled out of my brain and onto the floor, forgotten; your eyes were tantalising and I couldn't remember a moment ever feeling so empty yet full in my entire life previous to meeting you.  

At my bumbling lack of words, you offered a smile and your thoughtful suggestion, to which I nodded out a reply.  "Could I suggest something to you?" You had asked, sweet as the cake display, "The new chef makes wonderful lemon cheesecakes!".  You had spoken with such passion and life and I had no hesitation to bring the fork to my lips with excitement.  The sudden, tangy burst of flavour struck through a creamy, sweet undertone and it reminded me of you.  I kept watching you from my table near the window as I devoured my treat with guiltless greed.  Long after I had scraped my plate clean, I would catch you glancing at me and I would watch you watching me from beneath my fringe.  I had flicked my hair up and glanced around the room, preparing to leave, when our eyes locked again.  You ghosted me a sweet yet sly smile which seemed so fitting between your high cheekbones.  

That was the moment in which I realised our love would be timeless.

I returned to our bakery many times, but after several weeks of fruitless visits, I realised that my efforts where in vain.  That was when, at my questioning, a member of the staff had informed me of your resignation.  I was crushed, deep into a despair, but I still retained a hope that we would someday meet again; that if our unexplored love really was true, surely fate would favour us and find us back together once again.

However, years passed by without you and I had decided to move on.  In the midst of my university career, I had no time to waste searching for you; not in my heart nor in the real world.  I had finally given up hope of ever seeing you again and, although it hurt me, my life had slowly rebuilt itself around the empty space I had carved for you within it.

And that was when I met you for the second time.

Your hair was light blonde and contrasted so perfectly with the supermarket display that backdropped your re-entry into my life.  I didn't know what to say to you, so I just stared.  You recognised me, and my heart filled so full of joy that it swelled and stretched to accommodate your absolute presence inside it.  Because of this, in that moment, I knew I couldn't lose you for the pain I would feel in a repeated absence.  So I spoke to you for the first time; I asked for your number, which you gave with a smile and a chuckle that continues to thrill me to this day.  

The phone dial became the most exciting sound, and your voice my favourite.  You became, yet again, my favourite sight and eventually, sweetly, my favourite touch and taste.  You where the first man to invite me into your bed and the first man to invite me into your heart.  When we became one for the first time, I felt as an enlightened Buddha, a transcendent being, so connected with love, with you, my love.  Remember when I cried in your arms under the sweaty sheets, still buried deep inside you?  You just smiled, a light twinkling dampness over your own eyes as you caressed my cheek.

After that night, we were inseparable.  Each night was bliss and each day I lived to live and breathe you like oxygen.  When I buried my nose in your neck, you still smelled like vanilla and perfection, but with a little hint of me, a subtle yet potent quality, and that made me happier than any man I am inclined to believe could exist.  You, simply, were, in every sense, my life.

And I know I was yours.

Since then we have shared, fought, laughed, lied, pleasured, devoured, lived, breathed, and loved each other with more burning truth than I could have ever asked for.  Even so, my darling, I must ask if you one more thing.  I can't plead with you not to miss me, as our love was true and separation of true love is painful for all, no stones are we.  But know that, though I cannot be their to hold your hand or kiss your lips any longer, my love for you is eternal, unbreakable, unshakeable, as beautiful, fluid and strong as those songs we shared in the springtime of our youth.  I will always be yours, don't forget, and I will wait for you a thousand eternities if that be possible... 

Because just as I knew when I first met you so, so long ago, my dear Kibum, our love truly is timeless.

Kim Jonghyun

Shaky, wrinkled hands grip gently at the thick, textured paper.  A tear falls with a mute drip and stains the parchment a darker shade of pale pink.  The not-quite neat, desperate cursive of the letter blurs around the edges of the man's watery vision and he closes his eyes with a broken smile.  

"Oh Jjong, you've... always been a hopeless romantic."  But their is no bite in his words, only a soft, melting affection, broken and mellowed with time.

A while later, the old man stands with stiff muscles and crunching, popping joints, breath already heavy from the simple movement.  He folds the old paper neatly along practised creases and slips it back into his pocket.  He caresses the silky rose petals as they lay beside the headstone.  His worn, frail hands glide up and over the familiar name engraved upon it.  He thinks over how many times that name has brought him a smile, and how many times it has made him sad.  But he knows that Jonghyun would want him only to find peace, and so he nods another goodbye to the familiar stone before turning and walking away.  The day will come when he'll join his beloved, but for now he must make the most of the life that Jonghyun worked so hard to give him.

Kibum hobbled away from the grave just like countless times before.  But that was the last time he would ever visit.

Maybe, just maybe, in another, better place, that night was the third time Jonghyun met Kibum.