I walk a lonely road…

Once upon a time, my dear, there was a man called Han Geng.

((Daddy, was he handsome and tall?))

Of course, my sweet, of course he was handsome and tall, very much so. He had a piercing gaze and imposing stature. May I go on?

Yes?

Han Geng was an exchange student in a country far away from home, and he often felt very lonely.

Until someone came along.

((And that person was called Yesung!))

His name was Jongwoon, but yes, he preferred to be called Yesung.

((And his name means art-like voice! And you said he looks like a work of art too!))

W-well, of course he did! He had dark, smoky eyes, jet black hair, and a husky voice.

((And he was just a TAD bit shorter than Han Geng, right?))

Yes, only three centimeters shorter, and half a year younger. Han Geng found this boy to be quite interesting, so he quietly observed him at school.

((Daddy, that’s called stalking and it’s not good!))

Well, Han Geng didn’t follow Yesung home to peek at him when he changed. He simply observed, and that, my dear, is not the same as stalking.

((Go on, Daddy, tell me more!))

Jongwoon, at the same time, felt drawn to this mysterious exchange student who hardly participated in class, and even then with broken speech, and yet had perfect scores.

He enjoyed watching the other’s lithe movements as he navigated his way through the packed hallways, as fluid as liquid.

Slowly, slowly, he began to observe him from the corner of his eye.

((So that’s not stalking either?))

No, sweet, that is not stalking.

It is only two lovestruck birds wishing to find a life in each other…

((What does that mean? Daddy, what does that mean?))

What does that mean?

Oh, my dear, I hope you will never have to find out.

And back to Han Geng.

He had previously signed up for a tutoring club, which is a group of students with good grades that helps other students with bad grades get better grades.

((I know what they do! My school has one too, and I’m in it!))

Really now? Well, keep up the good work!

So Han Geng was a tutor, and one day, his upperclassman came to him with a tutoring request.

“Geng,” he said. “I would usually take this one, but I’m just so busy, and I’m so sorry, but could you take over this one?”

Han Geng looked into his pained brown eyes and agreed.

Park Jungsoo smiled, and hugged him.

“I knew I could count on you!”

But as Jungsoo walks away with a spring in his step, Han Geng’s heart freezes.

((Because it’s Yesung he’s gonna tutor!))

Right, it was Yesung’s name on the little pink slip.

Han Geng swallowed with difficulty and wanted to call Jungsoo back, because he must have made a mistake, Yesung gets perfect grades in math.

But he had already promised, and who knows, maybe Yesung just needs a bit more practice?

Han Geng steels himself and waits until lunch period.

((What about Yesung? Was he nervous too?))

No, my dear, he was terrified.

Jongwoon could not have waited longer for lunch, and yet the day went by quicker than any other.

When the bell finally – dreadfully – rang, he stood up, took a deep breath, and walked resolutely towards room 1106.

Han Geng was already there, head bowed, pencil in mouth, deep in thought.

((And all Yesung could think about were his lips-))

Who taught you that??

No, no, he was thinking about his math!

…

…yes, he was thinking about Han Geng’s lips.

He was also thinking about his long, slender fingers, and how much he loves them.

Han Geng, at that moment, looked up, and flushed a deep red.

“J-Jongwoon,” he stuttered. “You’re here.”

Yesung felt heat rise to his cheeks, and nodded.

“I-I, yeah.”

They stood in awkward for a few long seconds.

Then, Jongwoon moved out of the doorframe.

“Can I sit?”

“May I,” Han Geng corrects automatically. Then, realizing what he had done, he turns even redder than before and stammers an apology.

Yesung laughs, a clear, rich sound.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures. “I do it too.”

The tension breaks, and Han Geng pushes a few worksheets towards the other.

“So you need help on trig,” he begins. “Sine, cosine, tangent?”

“Mhm…” Yesung mutters, embarrassed. “I can’t remember the degrees and stuff…”

“Ninety degrees, Sin alpha is 1, Cos alpha is 0, Tan alpha does not exist, and Cotangent alpha is 0.”

So on and so on, zero degrees ((0, 1, 0, none)), one hundred eighty degrees ((0, negative 1, 0, none)), 30 degrees ((1/2, square root of three over two, square root of three over three, square root of three)), sixty degrees ((square root of three over two, 1/2, square root of three, square root of three over three)), forty five degrees ((square root of two over two, square root of two over two, 1, 1)).

“Ah,” Han Geng says suddenly. “I hope you know the equations to find Sine, Tangent, and Cosine…”

“Refresh them once?”

“Sine equals opposite side over hypotenuse, Cosine is adjacent side over hypotenuse, Tangent is opposite side over adjacent side.”

“SOHCAHTOA, right?”

“Yep.”

((Daddy, slow down! I don’t know this yet!))

My dear, it will be a long time yet, so don’t worry.

But Yesung should have known this.

Han Geng was amazed by how quickly Yesung completed the worksheets.

“All right!” he exclaimed. “Jongwoon, you’ll rule the world one day!”

“By trigonometry!” Yesung laughed, striking a ridiculous superhero pose.

Han Geng smiled. “Trigonometry is the fundamentals of-”

“Oh my god, Geng, stop it! Just play with me!”

((Did he? What did they play?))

Oh, of course they played.

They played pretend, my sweet.

They pretended they were singers, part of a band that rocked the entire world.

They danced popping moves in synchronization, drawing the attention of the talent show.

They rolled in the grass on the hill in the middle of the campus.

Among much more…

((They had a lot of fun, didn’t they, Daddy?))

Oh, of course.

Of course…

But separation was inevitable.

They had to go their own ways.

Had to live their own lives.

Because their lives did not entwine but for those few years.

Those few, short years…

((Daddy, why are you crying? Don’t cry!))

Daddy is crying because they would never see each other again.

They would get married and have children, but would never truly love their wives.

And their wives knew that.

((So they left.))

Yes, my dear, they left.

((It’s ok, Daddy. I just want them to find each other again. I want them to be happy.))

You are too old for your age…

Good night, my dear.

((Good night, Daddy.))

---------------------------------

Han Geng closes the door to his precious daughter’s room, softly, softly.

His legs take him to the living room, where he looks out the window at the cityscape.

A splash of twinkling lights amid the boundless darkness.

It truly is beautiful.

“And more beautiful with you… for how many times did we do this then?”

Unbidden, warm tears slip from his eyes, washing away the layers to reveal the pain from all these years.

“Jongwoon…”

His phone rings, suddenly, startlingly, with the tune of the song they composed so many years ago.

“Life couldn’t get better…”

“Hello?” he answers, preparing an excuse if the caller asked about his trembling voice.

“Geng?” a soft voice asks. Han Geng’s words die in his throat.

There is only one person who has such a beautiful voice.

“…Sung?”

“Han Geng!” Yesung’s voice breaks as a torrent of tears takes him away.

Han Geng’s breath shudders, and finally, for the first time in forever, he allows himself to cry.

“Jongwoon, Jongwoon,” he repeats, over and over, holding onto the hope, chanting it like a mantra, wanting to hold the other in his arms.

“Han Geng!” Jongwoon cries, clutching his phone, never wanting to hang up, never wanting to let go again.

Not this time.

They will not make the same mistake they made ten years ago.

“I don’t want to let you go.”

“We were never meant to be.”

Han Geng collapses against the window, forehead pressed to the cool glass.

Yesung stands in a doorway somewhere, trembling like an autumn leaf.

“Han Geng…” he whispers. “Where are you?”

“I am where I have always been,” Han Geng breathes shallowly.

Yesung smiles shakily.

“Then I am outside your door.”

Han Geng scrambles to his feet, lurches to the door, and pulls it open.

He stands, quivering, heart bursting, shot down by old love.

Jongwoon stands in front of him, hair as black as it had been ten years ago, eyes still as charismatic as when they were both young.

He smiles, a sideways smirk that brings back memories, and, never taking his smoky gaze off of him, holds his phone to his mouth.

“So, Han Geng, how have you been?”

Summer will come again.