“...it’s a mistake to lose one’s sense of death, even one’s fear of death. Isn’t death the boundary we need? Doesn’t it give a precious texture to life, a sense of definition? You have to ask yourself whether anything you do in life would have beauty and meaning without the knowledge you carry of a final line, a border or limit.”

- White Noise, Don DeLillo

*

            When I woke up in the morning he was already gone. I wasn’t surprised, but disappointed. It fit him really: the unpredictable, hardly transparent image of Lee Taemin that I’d come to find myself unable to forget. Mysterious. Strange. Nervous? He’d left me alone in my own house, and for some reason I hated that most. I didn’t want to wake up this way anymore, alone. It had been far too long that I had.

            Hyung: Thank you for the drink, and thank you for the card. I forgot to mention it last night. I’m sorry.

            That’s all it said, the note left in his place. But somehow, that was all that needed to be said. I knew that he was gone. And I knew that it would be awhile yet before I saw him again. I wasn't surprised when my texts and phone calls went unanswered. We'd been through this before, but this time I could tell was different. I didn't know what to do, but after my continuing attempts failed, I began to reevaluate the things I was feeling: the way he made me feel. The things I guessed he must be feeling also, having cheated on his boyfriend twice because of me... 

             So I gave up. I quit trying to reach him; I was sure that was what he needed, space from me in order to fix his relationship that I'd single-handedly messed up. I felt terrible. He must have thought the worst of me after that night. Two times I'd come on to him. Two times he gave in. Why? Why was I like this? Why did I treat him like he didn't matter, like I didn't care? Why did my actions come off this way, even though this was furthest from the truth...?

            That's what he thought I'm sure: that I didn't care about him, only wanted to use him. Every time I tried to get closer to him, I only ended up dividing us. We only grew farther apart. For his sake, it would be better if I didn't even try to explain myself; hell, I couldn't even explain it to myself. What was wrong with me? I'd never felt this way about another man before. I had no context for how to proceed or what things meant. I'd slept with this person. I missed this person. I cared about this person; this person meant something to me. He mattered. I felt... strong desires and attractions towards this person; connected, happy. But why? And what was I supposed to do with this knowledge?

             It was far more complicated than I ever expected it to be. He didn't need that kind of complication in his life. He needed space. Needed to be away from me, a person who had abused his trust and caused him to make choices that only hurt him in the end. For his sake. For his sake, I had try to let him go, no matter how much I realized I didn't want to.

* * *

            After confessing to Jae what I had done, I closed that part of my life forever. We said our goodbyes, but they really weren't all that sad or hard. It wasn’t that he couldn’t forgive my physical actions—he did. It was the emotional transgressions that were to blame. I couldn’t give him my heart or my body; neither one of these things seemed fit for him. It just wasn’t the same; it just wasn’t what I wanted. And I told him all these things, very honestly. Very openly. It was the least I could do, both for his sake and my own. For his sake, I let him go. But for my sake... I didn't try to stop him.

            Shortly after, I left. Everything: my apartment, my life in Seoul. For a little while, to clear my head—anything that needed to happen in order to get some clarity. I went to see my mother at my aunt’s house, a bag on my back and nothing more; it had been a year at least since I’d been. She and I didn't talk much but she let me stay. I knew I had let her down and I knew she would spend the rest of the short years she had left grieving both the loss of her husband as well as the loss of the little boy she thought she used to know.

            There were many things to talk about with her, many things to discuss and come clean about. I can’t really explain what compelled me, other than to say that the only way to properly move on is to let go.

* * *

            I got a small parcel in the mail nearly three months later, addressed from Busan. I didn’t know anyone who lived in Busan anymore, but remembered someone who did. It made sense. Feverishly, I opened it. There was a flash drive, wrapped in thin tissue paper that was held fast by a small sticker. I ripped it open and fumbled with the drive, sliding it into my laptop to see just what the mystery item would play.

            A video file. A simple mp4. My heart was racing; I knew who it was from even before I double-clicked the file and pressed play. The ocean was the first thing I saw, the water glittering ahead of the dusty sand. For awhile it played on, the roll of the sea coming through the speakers, albeit dull. A seagull sung overhead, but I was too impatient to listen to its sounds. I wanted to hear his voice, him. I wanted to see him again. To know where he’d been this whole time, to know that he was okay…

            But he didn’t show his face. Not until the end. When he finally started talking, I smiled. By reflex, I couldn’t help it; the sound of his voice caused that reaction in me beyond my ability to detain it.

            “Hyung, I bet by now you are wondering about me…” he started. I could tell by the tone in his voice that he was amused by this. I was too. He would have liked to have known it, that I was smiling. “Or maybe not. Maybe you’re not wondering at all—no, I guess you wouldn’t be…”

            “I am,” I told the screen, “I am wondering about you…”

            “My mom is doing well. She looks much older than I remember her. My aunt makes her be nice to me. It’s funny, actually: when my aunt scolds me, my mom turns around and does the same to her, even though she is the youngest. I guess mothers never grow out of mothering, do they, hyung? Ah, it really is something…” 

           He was rambling. I don’t know why, but I didn’t care. I just loved the sound of his voice, no matter what words he chose to fill it. 

           “You never mentioned your mother to me. I don’t know if you get along with yours, but I imagine that you do. You were probably a good kid, even if you can be a moody adult—” he laughed at himself again, though his chuckle was weighty and strained. “You’re probably wondering where I went off to…”

            “Yes.” But also, no.

            “I came to stop running. Do you understand? I asked you that night—if you finally understood. You said that you did, even though I know you didn’t. But I decided to go ahead because I was selfish. I decided to… because I wanted to. Maybe you understand that now…? Do you, hyung? Do you really understand? Those things I couldn’t say then—I’d never said them before. I never said them in ways they should be said, with confidence. I guess this doesn’t make sense…”

            “No, it does.”

            “I decided to tell my mother everything. And I decided to tell myself too: those words, those confessions. I'm saying them here, in this recording that I may or may not send to you. I don’t know how to… I don’t know how to speak my heart this way. Ah, I feel strange doing it. It feels so strange…”

            But it wasn’t. It wasn’t to me. I wanted to hear more.

            “My mother—she, ah, she has little patience for people like me. But I’m her son, so she has to have more patience than she’d like to. She blames me for my father; not with words, only stares. A resentment in her eyes. Do you know what I mean? I think you do—it’s the way you look at yourself, the anger of blaming someone for something they can’t control. I’ve seen that look on you so many times. It always made me sad; it made me sad the day you stopped smiling. You had such a warm smile…” He paused here, uncomfortable with his own confession. Or maybe, the transition was not as smooth as he’d rehearsed. “I ran away, but I didn’t think it would be bad that I did. I ended up hurting people. I never meant to hurt anyone, I only wanted you to feel better. But I guess… I was greedy, hyung. Because honestly—I wanted to feel better too.

            “Did you ever ask yourself why? Did you ever wonder why I… went along with things? I imagine you think that all guys like me are the same. I don’t know; maybe we are. But I… ah, Minho-hyung, how do I say this—?”

            “Just say it. Please, say it.”

            “It’s easier this way: for me to talk to myself on this recording. It’s easier for me to say these things to you now—but it’s still far from easy. You and I have a lot in common, hyung. All this time you’ve been chasing ghosts; so have I. I’ve—I…” he sighed here, just long enough for me to hear an interceding wave lap in the distance. “You called me a stalker once. I guess you were right, though I never meant to be that kind of person. I never meant to find you, hyung, or fill my time with wanting to be near you. Your wife—I saw her first, many years ago in the park. Something about her caught my eye; something radiant and bright about her. But then I saw you there. I saw you… ah, this is so embarrassing, hyung~!” he chuckled lightly, and I was taken aback here a little because it was at this point that he finally turned the camera on himself.

            There he was—his eyes happy despite all the desperate things he was saying—despite how much I could tell he was hurting. There he was—smiling and waving, just the way I remembered him. There he was—my Taemin, my Taemin…

            Immediately, I smiled back at him, even though he couldn’t see it. “You’re so stupid, kid. What are you going on about…” I muttered, my eyes starting to sting. I was moved by his voice, his words—the rhythm of his soft tone like the pulling of the sea. 

            He turned the camera away from him right after; I could tell he didn't want to say these things to my face. It was hard enough to speak them to the ocean in front of him, much less a camera lens. “Hyung—did you never wonder who I was watching all that time? Do you still not understand? I’ve loved you for so long now… I have loved you for so long…”                        

            My heart fell. Of course I did. How could I not—I knew, yes, but I also did not know at the same time. I’d been far too preoccupied to truly see things for what they were. And to hear these things aloud took me off-guard. I don't think anyone is ever really prepared for confessions like this, no matter how much you think you know beforehand. No, I was not ready for this... but I didn't mind it either.

            “I was just so happy to see you, even if you never knew me. That was enough. There were times I wanted to talk to her—to tell her how lucky she was to have you, to be with you, to get to touch and talk with you. I wanted to tell her I was sorry that I—that I was jealous of her. I’m sorry. I’m not a bad person. I hope you know that about me by now. I liked her, really. She was a nice person. I was happy that you had her…”

            There was a considerable pause. He was trying to tie everything together. He was trying to end his confession with dignity. Purpose. “I promised her that I would care for you. That I would look after you. I don’t know if she heard me that day… but that's what I told her. And I—did my best. I got a job where you worked, though fate planned that: I actually was working there before she died. You probably never noticed though. I asked for the same hours when I could, stayed late when I couldn't. Did you ever know? Did you feel un-alone, feel someone watching over you? That sounds kinda creepy, I guess... hm. That isn't the thing I meant to say.

            “That night you...” It seemed too painful for him to finish. “I knew then: you weren't as strong as you looked. But I also knew you would live. I remember the person you were; I knew you'd remember too. One day, you'd be reborn in a way. Ah! That sounds so cheesy!” he exclaimed, chuckling a little before he recomposed himself: “The heart is a funny thing. Plato said the brain was the origin of reason, but the heart was for fiery passion. Did you know that? They say that the average heart beats 72 times a minute—100,000 times a day, 3,600,000 times a year. In our lifetimes, our heart will beat, like, 2.5 billion times. But I wonder, how could it not be more? It has to be—all those times I saw you, and my heart sped up so crazy fast, like it was going to leap out of my chest—that fiery heart Plato talked about… how could it not be so much more than that…?” Taemin’s tone broke here, and he let out a deep sigh, then stayed quiet a little longer. “Thank you for being my friend. I didn’t want to bring you more pain, hyung. I was happy to be there for you, however I could. Just to see you smile again, like before; that's what I wanted most.”                

            Goddamn it. I was crying now. I didn’t expect this. I felt so weak and vulnerable for having such a reaction. My chest hurt. I felt an intense desire to see him in that moment, to feel his presence in a physical form in place of a digital one. 

           Taemin turned the camera on himself for one final time. I could tell that his cheeks were flushed, even with the bad quality of the recording, could tell that the rim of his eyes were slightly pink. All the emotion he’d tried so hard to hide was evident in that small simple second. My Taemin, he’d been trying not to cry. How many times had he cried without me knowing? I never thought him prone to it—I’d said this in the beginning already, but now I wondered if he had. Maybe far more often than I ever realized. All because of me.

           “So… are you? Are you smiling, hyung?” He flashed another lasting smile, then waved goodbye. “Be happy, hyung. For her, for yourself—for me too, if that's okay. Be happy.”  

           A final ‘an-nyeong’ then the camera turned off, leaving the screen black. That was all. It might seem long to you, but it seemed entirely too short to me. I wondered then—was this a final goodbye? Was this the last I’d ever hear from Lee Taemin? Had he—had he done something so stupid as try to take his own life? He'd had to deal with so much; more than I realized. Was it too much for him? Would he make a foolish choice, just like I had done? Did he have anyone to save him from himself, anyone watching over him...?

           The irony wasn’t lost on me. Immediately, I turned over the package and scanned the address scrawled in black letters. I’d already made up my mind before he’d finished talking, but this was the final nudge needed—it was time for me to take a trip to Korea's coast, a place I’d not been in a very long time.

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One more chapter... will it end the way you think it will?