The day I let go of him – was on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The pavement smelt of asphalt and the air filled with soot. 

I remembered him smiling the same smile he once reserved for me, when he talked about her.

That afternoon I realized – 

That he wasn’t mine anymore.

And that he’ll never be again.

MAYFLY
 a fleeting story

The last news I heard about him was that he already married. Living somewhere near the busy streets of Seoul and that he has two sons, now age two and three. 
 

Since I left the hospital that day, I buried myself in work and traveled everywhere my feet could take me. I’ve had a few relationships, but none of them lasted. 
 

I’ve visited Sweden and Germany and London and met hundreds of interesting individuals…
 

But I never had a day without him crossing my mind. 
 

Stupidly foolish. 
 

Pathetic even.
 

And I always blamed myself for it.

Minho was a childhood friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood and would often play together. We discovered wonders together. Watched our favorite shows together. We had our own world.
 

When we were teenagers, he drifted away from me – to new friends and new territories and to playing with girls. When we were teenagers I preferred staying at home, watching documentaries and reading. Sometimes, I’ll travel new territories as well and play with boys. 
 

When Minho found out about my uality, I expected him to push me away. It wasn’t normal for a boy to like another boy, and I’ve already had my fair share of people leaving because of what I am.
 

But Minho didn’t. In fact, he started to spend more time with me when he found out. I thought it was nice. That he had come back to my side. But I sometimes found it not fun because he’ll always fend off potential courters. 
 

When we were to graduate high school, and we both just broke things off with our latest flings, I woke up to bronze skin and disheveled blankets. I realized that I had done it with Minho. Booze didn’t help to heal our broken hearts, and we sought comfort in each other. I briefly panicked that it might break something more precious than any relationship I ever had –
 

My friendship with Minho. 
 

So I pretended that night didn’t happen and went about how I usually acted around Minho. 
 

On our graduation day though, he trapped me in the school gardens, away from the ceremony and told me he was sober then.

That he knew about that night. And that he doesn’t regret it.

That he’ll never regret it. 
 

We started dating in the last year of our universities. I found universities to be more forgiving. Aside from the fact that we were freer since we were away from home, many were supportive and open about it. 
 

There was a time when he suddenly pulled me out of my classroom and led me to a makeshift arch behind the university statue, with a friend of ours waiting, dressed in what seemed like a holy bandana, complete with a prop math book in his hands. A few others were also there, congratulating us on our wedding day.
 

I laughed at this but enjoyed the thought.

“You may now kiss! Just not so torridly please!”
 

“What are you laughing about?”
 

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”
 

“Heh… Me too. One day, I will take you to a real church. And we’ll get married.”

And he slid the simple gold band on my ring finger. 

That was our first year anniversary. The happiest day I can recall to