Kibum was sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas, disheveled, and he was not excited about the beginning day. He hadn't slept well the last few nights and woke up earlier than usual. And, as if to match his mood, instead of invigorating rays of the rising sun, he was greeted by the sight of the gloomy gray sky in the window.
His phone was lying in front of him on the table and not showing any signs of life.
He sighed.
Why am I like this?
Sometimes emotions got the best of him, indeed. But it wasn't only that. As a person who knew himself so well and valued self-balance, it was almost insulting to suddenly find himself spewing accusations and complaints that he hadn't consciously known he had in the first place. Kibum was aware of his own irrationality at times, but the fact that it had a potential to ruin the one good thing that he truly valued, was cruel.
What had he meant when he said that he could ‘just be’, but not for much longer? What exactly could he bear not for much longer? Was he tired of having someone he loved around? Someone who also wanted to be with him? Someone who was his friend? As if he was being forced into that terrible state of happiness and that abominable sense of belonging in the world and his own skin!
‘Do you see us as a couple?’
He hid his face in his hands and groaned.
The sound of someone knocking on the front door made him jump up. He didn't move, however.
He was not in the mood neither to listen to extreme Christians from some basement sect who would tell him that his soul was dead, nor to make talk with any of his neighbors. He'd somehow earned a reputation of a mellow, patient guy who would never say ‘no’ to a request for help and had ears for everyone. Kibum called it ‘the curse of being charming’.
Anyway, he wasn't up for that now. No charm before 11 a.m..
The knocking repeated. It wasn't frantic, so the building was probably not on fire, he figured. It wasn't angry, so he couldn't have possibly flooded the neighbours below.
“Leave me alone,” he muttered, because the noise wouldn't stop. “I don't want to see anyone! Jesus.”
Then, a new thought struck him: what if that half-hearted, but persistent knocking meant that some frail grandma was standing behind his door, clutching at her heart and ready to collapse, because her cat had chewed up the telephone wire and she couldn't call for ambulance herself? And when he would open the door later to throw the trash out, he would discover a lifeless body with a look of reproach fixed on her dead face forever? No, he wouldn't be able to live with that.
He shuffled into his slippers and hurried to the door, shouting: “Grandma, hold on just a bit!”
Kibum flung the door open and froze. It wasn't a grandma suffering from heart pains.
Jinki was standing there with a supermarket bag in hand and his hair surprisingly smooth. He was wearing the blue sweater and the grey wool jacket Kibum had bought for him.
“How did you get i-”
“I do see us as a couple, and I don't remember which Granola is your favorite, so I bought three kinds,” the guest uttered on a single breath and handed Kibum the bag.
“That is such a beautiful sentence,” Kibum said softly. His bottom lip trembled and Jinki hugged him.
“Did you get milk by any chance?”
“Two cartons. Cheapest ones.”
Kibum kissed him on the cheek.
“You're a dream. Let's have breakfast.”

Once they were done with the food and the dishes were washed, it was time to talk.
Kibum's hands were wrapped around his tea mug, Jinki was twisting a napkin between his fingers, and even though that silence wasn't tense or heavy, it wasn't easy to overcome. Each of them was probably questioning the necessity of rehashing the whole thing, but there was an undeniable feeling of unresolvedness floating about. Something needed to be said.
Kibum knew that blabbing was way easier for him to do than it was for his lover, but hesitated to open his mouth, because he didn't want to dominate the conversation – and it must've taken Jinki some courage to come like this, anyway. And he could imagine why Jinki was keeping his quiet - he just didn't know how to start. Especially since Kibum was the one who had come up with certain ‘issues’ that bothered him.
Their eyes met, and Jinki cleared his throat.
“I know I said we should talk on the next day, but... I wasn't ready. I needed some time.”
Kibum nodded and waited for him to go on.
“I don't have the habit of... of discussing things. If a problem arises, I just shut down and wait for it to go away.”
“You switch your brain off.”
“Exactly. And it worked for me, so I thought I had found an effective way of handling nearly anything... I could do things I didn't want to do for a living, study without inspiration and get by without comfort... I didn't care if my relationships with people were falling apart. ‘People come and go’, I thought...”
Kibum felt that he could relate to that, but not quite. After all, he had a more open personality.
“Didn't work with my mom, as you know. She's the one person in my life who's not supposed to ‘go’ anywhere, but I treated her that way, until... until you told me something I needed to hear and I went to her, and it was the right decision.”
Jinki was not saying anything profound or completely unexpected, but Kibum's eyes began stinging anyway. Sleep deprivation. Definitely.
“I had a long conversation with her, and we talked about that... I guess I understood, and I thought I'd be able to change after that, but, I don't know... I guess it takes time.”
“No, you have changed,” Kibum argued. “I've noticed, honestly. But it does take time, it seems...”
“Yeah... Also, I... I've never really been in an actual relationship before, so I don't really know how they work. Maybe it sounds like an excuse, but it's the truth.”
“Really? Not even once?”
“Well, there was one girl in the seventh grade who decided that I was her boyfriend and gave me her tamagotchi for a week, but it died on me and she never spoke to me again.”
Kibum laughed.
“So, you got an early experience of a dramatic breakup.”
“Kind of. But other than that, it was always something... weird. Just random connections with random people.”
“Maybe it's because you had a preconceived notion of what a ‘proper’ relationship should be like, so that anything that didn't live up to it was dismissed as something else?”
Jinki sighed.
“Maybe, yes. My mom also told me that I have some perfectionism in me... Anyways, I feel that I will have to learn a lot.”
“Well, to tell the truth, I've been in many relationships, but I still have to learn a lot, too,” Kibum confessed. “I'm definitely a perfectionist myself, but I guess it works differently for me. I always want to improve things, fix things... I give my best without thinking, because it's natural for me. But at some point I start feeling as if what I get is less than what I give, and start nitpicking and feeling insecure...”
“You are very generous.”
“I am, but I can be overwhelming, I know. Not everyone is built like that, so expecting that the other person will do the same for me does nobody justice in the end... I don't know where the need to ‘define’ a relationship comes from. I don't like to think that I'm traditionally minded, but I guess being exclusive concerns me a lot. Maybe it's my hetero envy, I don't know.”
He shrugged.
“Come on, what do they have that's worth envying? Apart from being able to marry whoever they want, having babies and being loved by their parents.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Kibum muttered, and Jinki patted his arm supportively. “Anyway... I do understand that labels are unnecessary. But I guess I need some kind of security.”
Jinki bit his lip, thinking.
“I don't really know what ‘security’ is, so you'll have to help me there. I wasn't ready to talk that night, but I wanted to tell you that of course I care about what you do... But if you wanted me to say that you should give up the job now that we're together, I couldn't do it. I don't think I'm able to feel any ual jealousy, I'm just not sensitive to that... I honestly believe that there's nothing wrong about earning money the way you're used to and I don't want to be possessive and limit your freedom in any way.”
Kibum got up to his feet and strolled to the window with his mug in hand. The sky was still cloudy and it looked like it was going to rain.
“I understand what you mean... I do. I guess I am the possessive one. I mean, I wouldn't say that I'm ually jealous either, not big-time, at least. But I wouldn't want us to go on like we did at the manhwa cafe.”
“Bummie, if you don't wanna go back to that job, you don't have to.”
Kibum pursed his lips.
“But I'm used to it... It's such quick and easy money. I don't know how to do anything else.”
Jinki stood up, too, and came closer.
“You'll know if you try. You don't care about building a career, so just… find what you like to do. You know about fashion and art, you like organizing and improving. You could go from there.”
“Maybe... I don't know.”
Jinki the back of the other's neck.
“You can do it, no doubt.”
Kibum's lips curved in a bashful smile, his dimples showing.
They heard the door open, and Minho appeared in his form-fitting boxers.
“Don't mind me, I'll just get my water.”
However, instead of quietly disappearing after pouring himself a glass of said water, Kibum's tall roommate leaned on the kitchen counter and watched as the two lovers proceeded to embrace each other.
His chiseled abs alone made it hard not to ‘mind’ him when he was standing there barely dressed.
“Forgot something, Choi Minho?” Kibum asked, his arms still wrapped around Jinki.
“No, I'm just admiring your gay paradise. You're encouraging each other with beautiful words while the last thing I heard from my girlfriend last night was, ‘I'm not your , don't tell me what to do’, as she climbed on a bar table after seven cocktails while wearing her high heels.”
“She has a point, to be fair,” Kibum argued. “How is she?”
“Snoring in the bedroom like a bunch of drunken sailors. I bet she won't even remember how I carried her all the way here because I couldn't catch a taxi.”
“Bet you could carry a bunch of drunken sailors, too,” Jinki commented, looking at Minho's biceps with just a drop of envy.
“Well, I'm not that strong, I'm not sure anybody can carry a bunch of people in their arms. Unless they're children...”
“He was joking,” Kibum said, rolling his eyes.
“I just thought some things needed to be pointed out.”
“Yeah. They didn't.”
“I'm very logical, I can do nothing about it,” Minho insisted as he finished rinsing his cup and put it on the rack.
“Thank God you're pretty,” Kibum murmured as his roommate left the room.
“I can hear you and thanks!” they heard him shout from the living room. “Wanna go the movies?” Kibum suggested.
Jinki sighed.
“I wouldn't mind, but mom is coming to visit today.”
“Coming to check on her baby?”
“Nah, she's not really the ‘checking’ kind. She's meeting some people in town later, so she's just dropping by for lunch.”
“Have you tidied up?” Kibum inquired, poking him on the chest with his forefinger. He had his teacher expression on now.
“Um, I needed to talk to you first.”
“What are you having for lunch?”
Jinki faltered.
“I don't know...”
“Do you have any ingredients at home?”
“Um, I was thinking about getting a takeout, maybe...”
Kibum's eyes widened.
“What?! The woman who made you is coming to see you and you don't even want to try?!” he cried.
“You kinda sound like her right now,” Jinki muttered.
“Well, I guess, sensible people tend to sound alike! I'll get dressed and we'll get you ready for the event.”
With those words Kibum headed to his room, followed by his anxious friend.
Minho was in the living room, watching some sports program on TV.
“I'd appreciate your help, but... what if she comes early and...”
“What, are you ashamed of me?” Kibum asked in the middle of changing his shirt.
Jinki, standing outside his room, was pulling on his fingers awkwardly.
“No, it's just that... she'll realize that... you know...” he stammered.
“That you have friends that help you out at times?”
“You know what I'm talking about...”
Kibum rubbed his chin, figuring out which of the measly four pairs of jeans he owned spoke to his heart today. Apparently, the dark purple ones had the strongest ‘going to bf's flat to do things he should be capable of doing himself’ vibe, because they were the ones he extracted from his drawer.
“Your mom sounds like a cool lady and I'd love to make her acquaintance one day. But if that terrifies you so much, I won't insist. When is she arriving?”
“She said around three.”
“I'll be gone by two-thirty then. Don't worry.”
It was impossible to argue with Kibum when he had his mind set on something. Also, Jinki could really use his help, so he gave up and sat on the couch next to Minho.
“I'll ask him to organize our wedding when it happens. He's good at that stuff,” the latter said. “But I'll make sure not to interact with him while he's at it.”
“You're only gonna lose the chance of hearing some life-changing advice, big deal!” Kibum grumbled from his room.
“That's why,” Minho mouthed at Jinki, and the other nodded.
He knew exactly what he meant.

The warm season was still a couple of months away, and the wind that sometimes swept the banks of the river was not of the gentle kind. Taemin and his mother, who had been walking long enough for their ungloved hands to turn pink, decided it was time for rest and dropped by a coffee shop nearby. Having a similar taste, they both ordered a mug of hot chocolate with whipping cream and cinnamon on top, and chose to sit by the window: it offered an excellent view of the Han river and the Yeouido park.
“It's going to rain in the evening,” Mrs. Lee said, checking the weather app on her phone.
Taemin, who was gazing at the scenery behind the glass, did not respond to that in any way.
“I talked to Director Seo. He said that you can continue studying if you complete the evaluation.”
Taemin chuckled.
“It's comforting to now that Father's name still has some effect on people.”
Mrs. Lee smiled, too.
“I'm using the perks while I still can.”
A very polite waitress came with the hot drinks and complimentary chocolates: the prices here were surely high enough to provide excellent service.
“So, when will you be free?” Taemin asked when the smiling girl and her tray were gone.
“It takes some time for the divorce papers to be processed and finalized, but your father very clearly informed me that I'm free to go any place, any time.”
“He's not happy, right?”
Mrs. Lee shrugged.
“He hates to be the subject of people's gossip, so I don't think it's convenient for him right now. But I'm sure that his mistress feels differently.”
“Are you getting anything?”
“I'm taking what's signed under my name. I had years to prepare, so I'll have enough for a comfortable life. I'm not going to miss the opulence anyway.”
“Well done,” Taemin said, nodding, as he scooped some cream with the spoon. “Are you happy?”
Mrs. Lee faltered.
“I'm...” She pursed her lips slightly. “…relieved, I guess.”
She raised her eyes to look at her son. In their expression, he could see gentleness, guilt.
“You know that I'm always worried about you. I was restless after your call… I just wanted to come and get you, and have you by my side again,” the woman confessed.
“Yet, you didn't.”
“No. I remember what you said about the possibility of you trying again if you stayed with me. Each time I want to call you and beg you to come back, that thought makes me stop and put the phone away.”
“Thank you.”
“I am worried, but... A few days ago I woke up at dawn and I had that new, bright feeling. I remember looking around and thinking, ‘He will be fine. He'll recover’, and I still have that feeling. You will be okay, I know that.” Taemin tensed up, because his mother's hopeful words somehow made it difficult for him to breathe for a second or two. He wasn't so sure.
Carefully and softly, she touched his hand.
“Believe me,” she murmured, looking at him with that warm sympathy that he had so needed in the previous years of his life.
As if reading his thoughts, Mrs. Lee added, her voice trembling:
“I hope you will be able to forgive me someday.”
Taemin needed a moment to pull himself together.
“I hope so, too.”
Mrs. Lee patted his hand and leaned back in her chair, and for the next ten minutes or so they were both immersed in their own thoughts, neither of them feeling the need to disrupt the silence. The brisk jazz music coming from the speakers did not match the mood of either of them, but was unobtrusive enough to blend in with the general hum of the place.
“Taemin... Are you still in touch with that young man from the motel?”
He shook his head.
“He left me.”
“Was he... was he really what he said he was?”
Taemin shrugged.
“It doesn't matter anymore. He's gone.”
“Do you miss him?”
“‘Missing’ sounds so simple and lovely… I don't think there's room in me for such uncomplicated emotions right now.”
“I understand.”
“You made a lot of mistakes as a parent,” Taemin said, stirring his remaining chocolate with a straw. He didn't sound like he wanted to begin an argument – he was stating a fact. Still, his mother lowered her head, as if the shame was instinctive. “However, you never made a big deal out of me being gay. Why?”
“Because I don't think it's a problem.”
Taemin also leaned back in his chair, studying the woman's face.
“Why? Do you think I'll get over it and just start dating a girl later?”
“No, I don't think you'll get over it.”
“And? Aren't you supposed to see it as a character flaw or a sickness, as the rest of our bigoted society does?”
“Even if I am, I do not see it as either of those things. You were born with it and you should have the freedom to live with it.”
“You are not normal.”
“That makes two of us, then,” Mrs. Lee concluded, and Taemin laughed.
He had enjoyed his mother's answer.
“I've made mistakes, and I'll do everything I can to fix them. But there are certain things you don't know about me, so don't assume that I should be guilty of every weakness there is,” she said seriously.
“Okay,” Taemin replied after a pause.
They walked a bit more after the cafe, and then Mrs. Lee caught a taxi to go to her meeting, and Taemin took a subway home: he felt like he'd spent enough time outside for that day.
“You will be fine,” she repeated before letting go of his hand and getting into the car.

Thanks to Kibum's influence, the state of Jinki's room was not that bad to begin with. This time, apart from the usual cleaning, he finally made him fold his shirts properly.
“Who cares about what's inside my drawers, anyway?” Jinki muttered, doing, however, as he'd been told.
“She might take a peek. But it's mainly for your own convenience,” Kibum explained.
He stir-fried some rice with beef and vegetables with his lover's help, chopped up a salad, and was in the middle of making delicious, but totally unnecessary, in Jinki's opinion, appetizers by sticking cherry tomatoes, mozarella cheese and basil leaves together with toothpicks, when the dreaded doorbell came.
He turned his head to look at Jinki.
“Oops.”
Jinki sighed as he pressed the button on the intercom.

When Mrs. Lee and her son stepped into the room, Kibum was almost done. He paused to greet her with a polite bow, and Jinki introduced him as his ‘er, friend’.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I like your hair. Looks like you dipped it in strawberry syrup,” the lady complimented him, removing her shoes by the door.
Kibum laughed bashfully.
“Thank you, I dyed it myself.”
“Wish I could do my own hair, too. Especially the cutting. Kind of tired of this whole business of explaining to the stylist that looking like a cocker spaniel was not what I had in mind when I asked for a ‘classy bob’.”
“And when I asked for ‘Kim Soohyun in My Love From the Stars’, I definitely didn't mean ‘next-door ajusshi at the funeral’,” Kibum chimed in. “From then on – no, thanks, I'll do my hair myself.”
“Right, right.”
Mrs. Lee took a sweeping look around the room and gave her verdict:
“This place is okay. Well done.”
Nobody said anything for a moment, and the sight of Jinki looking like he was going to drill holes in the pockets of his jeans with his hands brought Kibum back to reality.
“Oh, I'll just... finish these last ones and, um, leave you to it,” he murmured, rushing back to his appetizers.
“Leave us to what?” Mrs. Lee asked, moving on to inspect the condition of the furniture.
“Um, surely, you need to catch up and stuff?”
The woman opened the closet and nodded approvingly, as Jinki's shirts, jackets and coats were hanging in a neat row instead of being piled up below.
 “I don't think Jinki can tell me anything interesting.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“You have other good points, my child. And hey, you've finally learned how to shut your drawers!”
While everything was being said in jest and good spirit, Kibum couldn't help feeling a little sorry for his poor boyfriend, who was still standing by the door awkwardly.
“You should stay and eat the food you've made. I know by the smell that it's my meat, so it should be delicious.”
To tell the truth, Kibum did want to stay.
“Uh, okay!”
“Oh dear, I really need to pee,” the lady muttered as she made her way to the bathroom.
Jinki exhaled and walked to the sink to help Kibum clean up.
“Sorry,” Kibum whispered, giving him a dish he had used while cooking, together with an apologetic look.
“It's okay. Not long until we're official now.”
“Don't worry so much, there's no way she can tell.” Kibum rubbed the other's arm. “Relax.”
Jinki only shook his head. He had already chosen his side for that day, and it was the pessimistic one.

He only had two chairs, so they put the table next to the bed, and Mrs. Lee was invited to sit there. Unlike her son, Kibum wasn't afraid that today was the day when they would inadvertently become ‘official’ due to some stupid mishap, but, on a subconscious level, he was already behaving as if they were official: he felt the pressure to impress the parent. In spite of normally being confident about his cooking, he found himself worrying about the condiments, and the texture of the meat, and whether the smell of garlic was too strong (it wasn't). As a way to compensate for the imaginary shortcomings of the food, he was ready to be at the height of his charm. (If only he had picked some other pair of jeans, though!)
He was trying so hard that he even forgot to let the host take care of serving, and began laying out the food himself.
Meanwhile, Jinki was sweating so much that he would soon be wet enough to be wrung out like a rag.
“Where are you from, Kibum?” Mrs. Lee asked, treating herself to an appetizer.
“I'm from Daegu.”
“Daegu! Lovely parks, wonderful dialect... My father-in-law lives there. I don't understand half the things he says. He's so ancient, bless him. Wow, this is delicious.”
Kibum laughed.
“We have famous spicy ribs, too.”
“Ah, yes, the ribs!”
“You put the cucumbers in,” Jinki observed sullenly as Kibum put the salad on his plate.
“They were necessary here.”
“Cucumbers are never necessary.”
“They have a cool, refreshing quality to them. You won't even taste them,” Kibum insisted.
But Jinki was not ready to give up.
“What's the point of putting something in your food if you can't even taste it.”
Mrs. Lee sighed, looking at the pair.
“You know how some parents are afraid that their kid will grow up too fast? Well, I'm not.”
That was enough for the bickering to stop and for Jinki to accept the fact that those cucumbers were going to end up in his mouth.
Mrs. Lee asked Jinki about his studies, updated him on the events of her own life (there weren't many), and then the three of them talked on general subjects. To Kibum's satisfaction, both the mother and son were treating themselves to his ‘useless’ appetizers with no less enthusiasm than they did to the meat and rice, and he was mentally praising his own thoughtfulness, when there was a little pause in the conversation, after which the bomb dropped.
It came in the form of Mrs. Lee propping her chin on her fist and asking simply:
“So, you guys are lovers?”
The two young men, between whose faces her eyes were shifting, exchanged terrified glances. Their answers, though, were not as synchronized. While Jinki burst with: “Why would you think so?!”, Kibum cheeped: “Yes.”
Mrs. Lee's face was calm, but serious, as was her voice when she said:
“Come on. The room is tidy and clean, the food is delicious and my son finally looks like the handsome man he is. And he's actually eating cucumbers. Someone's got to be gay.”
Again, Jinki argued: “That's too general to make assumptions,” and Kibum simultaneously said: “Amazing observation skills.” The former glared at his lover, while the latter bit his lip almost hard enough for it to bleed. Why can't you just be quiet?!
Mrs. Lee chuckled.
“The Polaroid of you two kissing on the fridge also helped, but thanks.”
If accusatory looks could kill, Kibum would've died a few times in a row now.
The tension in the air was unbearable, and he decided that now would be a perfect time to get up and let the mother and son do the serious talk one on one while he washed the plates, but Mrs. Lee read his brave intention and the piercing look she gave him clearly ordered him to stay put. He placed his back on the chair and gulped.
“For how long have you been together?”
Kibum looked at Jinki, but he was petrified by shock. Only the sweat drops rolled their way down his forehead.
So, he cleared his throat and answered on his behalf:
“We met almost a year and a half ago, but we've been going out for a couple of months or so.”
“How did you meet?”
“At a cafe.”
The woman raised her eyebrow, making the same surprised expression her son often did.
“Didn't know that people still make moves in cafes.”
“We were both working there.”
“I see. Do you use protection?”
Even Kibum felt perspiration forming on his brow now.
“Every single time,” he replied earnestly.
“Do you take the tests regularly?”
“Every few months, yes.”
“You know that the HIV test alone is not enough, right?”
“Yes, there are other kinds, too. We take those things very seriously.”
Kibum turned to Jinki for confirmation of what he'd just said, but to no avail: he was staring at his plate as if it was showing him a future where he died by being crushed under a giant piece of cheese or something preposterous like that. He was completely useless.
“As you should,” his mother replied with a nod.
She wasn't saying anything for a while, clearly waiting for her son to join the conversation.
When a few minutes passed and Kibum could bear it no longer, he touched Jinki's knee under the table.
The young man came to.
“Are you mad?” he asked in a fallen voice.
Mrs. Lee shrugged.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Well… you don't look happy for sure.”
“I'm not feeling happy right now, true. But not for the reason you think.” She sighed. “No parent should ever say it to their child, but the world is a ty place, and there will be people who will make it their quest to make your lives miserable... Also, I did want to have a grandkid who would look like you, but I reckon I'll have to settle on a corgi or two.”
Jinki was looking at his mother with rounded eyes.
“Corgis are cute,” Kibum chirped, because he was nervous, even though on a rational level he could see that this was going unexpectedly well.
“I know, I have a separate folder for corgi pictures on my phone. They make me smile,” Mrs. Lee replied.
There was some soft sadness in her expression, but definitely no anger.
“Is that all?” Jinki asked, dumbfounded. “Like, you've found out that I have a boyfriend, and that's all you're gonna say?”
Kibum, who was drinking water, choked on it and coughed.
He had just been called what?
“While you were sitting here and trying to teleport into the ocean, your boyfriend answered all the important questions. I suppose, the rest is not my business.”
“Well... Thanks,” Jinki said.
“You're welcome.” With those words, the kind-hearted lady took a paper tissue and started mopping her son's wet face from across the table. “You've suffered today.”
Kibum was so touched at that expression of motherly care, he actually shed a tear.

“What kind of meeting are you going to?” Jinki asked after tea, when Mrs. Lee rose to leave.
“The reunion meeting of the graduation class '87. Going to be a dreary, boring affair, I'm sure,” she said with a sigh, studying her reflection in the mirror with a concerned look on her face.
“You look very elegant and natural at the same time,” Kibum remarked encouragingly.
She was wearing a simple knee-length green dress that matched her figure well, with a long grey jacket and beige shoes.
“Ah, thanks, honey. One's gotta lay out money to look natural these days.”
“I didn't know you wore dresses,” Jinki said, because he'd only just noticed. (Kibum facepalmed himself mentally.)
“That's what your aunt told my brother before divorcing him. I guess gay runs in the family after all.”
She took one last look at herself and was ready to go. She hugged Kibum by the door.
“Take good care of yourself,” were her goodbye words to him. For some reason, she chose to say that, instead of telling him to take good care of her son.
Jinki walked her to the subway station, because, according to the lady, taxis were a waste of money.
“Jinki, can you promise me something?” she asked when they stopped by the entrance.
“What?”
“If you do choose to marry a girl after all, only do that if you really love her. Because otherwise you will ruin two lives at once. Trying to conform when you can't will only bring pain to everyone involved.”
“I... okay.”
Jinki nodded.
“Is Kibum one of those two that you told me about last time?”
He nodded again.
“I think I know which one he is,” his mother said with a faint smile. “Don't hurt him, please. He's a kind boy.”
“I'll do my best. Mom... are you really not mad?”
“It would be hypocritical of me to be mad at you for this.”
Jinki frowned.
“Why?”
“That's a story for another lunchtime. Come here.”
The woman embraced her son tightly – tighter than she had done ever before, he felt. She didn't say anything else and just his hair with her palm.
“Someone is very affectionate today,” Jinki joked, because he felt a lump in his throat and didn't want to give in to emotion.
“Maybe I'm getting old,” Mrs. Lee replied in a wavering voice.
He could see tears in her eyes as she left with a quick wave.

When he came back to his room, he found a restless Kibum pacing back and forth.
“Jinki, are you very upset?” he asked, biting his nails and watching anxiously as Jinki tumbled on the bed, putting his hands beneath his head.
“No, I'm not very upset,” he answered tranquilly. “I do feel exposed, but what can you do.”
“I'm really sorry.”
Jinki gave a sigh.
“I didn't even know that photo was there.”
“That was my fault!” Kibum whined. “It fell out of somewhere while we were cleaning and I just stuck it to the fridge temporarily and...”
Jinki laughed.
“And now we have permanent damage.”
Kibum's tormented expression became even more pitiful.
“Come on, it's over now. You saw that it went well.”
The young man relaxed a bit.
“Do you want me to leave you to brood here alone?”
“No, stay.”
Kibum's mood quickly improved as he sprang unto the bed and settled next to his lover.
“I'm your boyfriend,” he said, grinning.
“Did I call you that? I don't remember.” Seeing immediate disappointment in Kibum's eyes, Jinki chuckled. “Come on, what else are you?”
His arm got hit twice.
“What do you wanna do now?” Kibum asked, tracing the line of Jinki's jaw with his finger.
“What can you suggest?”
“Movies and cuddling?”
“What else?”
“Um... alcohol and heavy spanking?”
Jinki laughed.
“Or movies and spanking?” he offered instead.
“Or alcohol and cuddling? That's what usually happens anyway,” Kibum said.
“Or cuddling and then spanking and then a movie?” Jinki went on, because he never rested until a joke reached a certain level of absurdity.
“Uh, shut up.”
Kibum kissed him to stop the nonsense.
“You know, if you and I fall through, I wanna marry your mom,” he confessed when they lay in each other's arms, watching TV on the cheap projector Kibum had bought off some guy on the internet.
“You'll have to get in line. She has many admirers.”
“Ah, that should've been expected... Let's not fall through, then.”
“Let's not fall through,” Jinki agreed.

Eunsook almost missed her stop. When she got off the train at the Ewha University station and glanced at her wrist watch, she realized that she was already running late. However, instead of rushing towards the exit, she dropped by the bathroom – not because she needed to use it, but because she had to collect her wits first.
She still needed to process the fact that her son had a boyfriend. Yet, for now, she lay it aside: there was something else weighing on her mind.
Eunsook was not ashamed of owning a meat shop, or being a single mother who never remarried, or having given up on life at the great city of Seoul, and she didn't care if people were going to judge her for not looking as sprightly and slender as she had been some thirty years ago. If they were going to judge, she could do nothing about it anyway, she reasoned.
No, the reason for that small, faint feeling in her knees, lay elsewhere.
Is she already there?
She didn't know what would be worse – seeing that one person from her past after all this time or finding out that she wasn't coming at all and losing perhaps the last available opportunity to meet her again, ever.
Eunsook wanted to splash some water on her face to regain her spirit, but she needed to be careful with her makeup, so she just rinsed her hands with the cool water one more time.
Her heart was racing as she walked down the street towards the restaurant rented for the reunion event. She might have scolded Jinki for his deteriorated eyesight, but she couldn't see quite well herself when her destination became visible on the other side of the narrow road.
There was a group of women in dresses and fancy suits gathered by the doors, chatting, but their faces were not distinguishable enough.
Eunsook looked hard while she waited at the crossing. The light switched to green, and at the very same moment one of the women turned around and looked straight at her. Her heart jumped.
“Taeyeon,” she whispered, caught by surprise.
Taeyeon's eyes lighted up as she recognized her. They both smiled.

A/N: Hello guys! I just wanted to take this moment to thank you for reading, susbscribing, and upvoting my story, and for sharing your thoughts - for an author, communication with readers is crucial. Also, I wrote the first episode of this chapter while standing in line for the Shinee Day Party... The remaining tickets were sold out while I was waiting, so I didn't get in, but it left a warm feeling, and I think I'll remember standing there in the hot sun with my shirt covering my head and writing on my phone, haha. I'm leaving Korea soon, so I was a bit heartbroken, but I ended up buying an Onew fan and postcards - not bad! Hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of the story, and good luck with text/exams~ Love, Liza x