Thou must be patient. We came crying hither.
Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air
We wawl and cry.

-King Lear; Act IV, Scene 6

Howon is seventeen when he meets him. He sits on the low stone steps, and the late autumn sun shines amber rays upon him. He is illuminated in all his beauty, ethereally golden, and when he glances up from his notebook, a mildly surprised look on his face, Howon feels his heart stop.

It’s not that he’s particularly handsome; no, but his eyes curve in perfect crescents, and the sunset turns his dyed brown hair into a halo. Howon knows; he knows that this boy will forever have a place in his heart.

--

The boy’s name is Kim Sunggyu, and he is two years older than Howon. “I’m a grade above you,” he laughs, absentmindedly tapping a pen against the side of his notebook. “You dance, don’t you? You’re good.”

Howon is surprised, although not unpleasantly. In fact, his heart skips a beat in excitement. “Y-yeah,” he stammers, grinning. “You’re in the Hongdae group, aren’t you? I’ve always really liked the songs you do.”

“Really?” Sunggyu’s smile is shy, and he glances towards the sunset. “Thank you.”

His voice is quiet, and a wistful look comes over his face. Howon says nothing, running his fingers through the tassels hanging off of Sunggyu’s backpack. He knows the older boy has more to say, and he doesn’t want to interrupt.

“I wanted to be a singer.” Sunggyu’s quiet voice penetrates the silence. He continues to look at the setting sun, although his eyes are misty, far away. “I wanted to stand on a stage and sing for fans who loved me. I wanted to be in a group that supported me. I wanted to have fun, work hard, cry, sweat. I wanted to be myself, do what I wanted to do.”

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. “But I couldn’t. They forced me to enroll, threatened to take away my financial support. I couldn’t do it.” He looks up at Howon, helplessness and resignation and anger in his eyes. “Do you want to follow your dream?” he asks softly. “If you do, go take that path you want to go down and never come back.”

Howon holds his gaze - sadly, regretfully - and eventually, Sunggyu looks away. “No,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “No, you’re the same. You’re the same as me, just another one lost. We’re one of the same, Howon, but you deserve better.”

“No.” Howon takes Sunggyu’s shoulders and looks him in the eye. Sunggyu is surprised, he can tell. “We deserve the same. We were afraid, scared of what would happen if our families abandoned us. We were young, naive, but now, we know better. Tell me, Sunggyu, tell me you wouldn’t live it now, given the chance, tell me you wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Sunggyu answers without hesitation. “But Howon, we can’t. It’s too late.”

He stands up, and Howon’s hands fall off. Sunggyu looks down, one more time, and his gaze softens. “I’ll see you around, Howon,” he says softly.

The sun sets, and Howon is left with the wind, the sound of skittling leaves, and a feeling he might have called love.