He’s here again. The last rays of dusk filter through the branches of the woods, reflecting off of the leaves and creating small orbs of fire. From a distance, they could almost be mistaken for lanterns, celebrating the beginning of autumn. They sway along to the score of leaves rustling in the cool breath of the evening. The comforting breeze meanders through Jongin’s ears, whispering where to go, and he reaches the edge of the woods. He can make out the silhouette of the village, and hears the echoes of laughter and singing. Jongin continues on towards the village, and the sun continues west, both of them hurrying towards their destinations. Jongin reaches the house on the outskirts, and a pale figure comes out to greet him. But the sun reaches the horizon first, and everything else vanishes with it, leaving Jongin with only the wind caressing his cheeks.

Jongin rubs his eyes, wishing for the village to come back, but when he opens them again it’s to his window, cracked open ever so slightly. The first rays of dawn start to trickle in through the glass, and the breeze rearranges the various papers strewn across the room. He turns his head at the rustling, and focuses on the calendar on the opposite wall. It’s January 13. Friday, January 13^th.

*

The sunlight is different tonight. It seeps through the cracks between trunks more hurriedly than usual, and contaminates the forest floor, at fallen debris as if it were real flames instead of merely visual imitations. The fiery orbs are violently jostled by the gusts of wind. Jongin’s head is filled with a pleading cry, repeating over and over again and echoed by the wind. Jongin-ah... Jongin-ah! He frantically swivels his head from side to side, searching.

 “Jongin-ah.”                                                       

He turns around, too quickly, to face his memory. Standing there, the pale, sculpted features of the figure opposite him reflect the blazing glow of the rapidly diminishing sun. A pair of wide, tear-glistened eyes bore into him, begging for a response.

He parts his lips, but Kyungsoo’s name escapes them too late.

As Jongin rubs the sleep away from his eyes, he can’t tell if the wetness is from excessive rubbing or excessive memories.

*

Jongin knows what day it is, but that makes him not want to leave the comfort of his bed sheets even more than usual. He grudgingly rolls out of bed and blearily stares at his reflection in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, rimmed with permanent shadows, slightly alarming from a stranger’s perspective. What was more alarming to Jongin was that the more he gazed at his own eyes, the wider and paler they became, morphing into someone else’s, again conveying a silent plea. Jongin had to remind himself that Kyungsoo was not quite there, that just because he could see him didn’t mean he was present. Jongin knew that the same went for himself.

He trudged into the cramped kitchen, figuring he might as well eat some of the seaweed soup from two days earlier. The stove creaked slightly from the weight of the pot, nearly full to the brim. Jongin was another year older today, but it was unremarkable, just like it had been for the last ten years. His memories of the past decade were faded and blurred, for nothing worth remembering had happened; it was rather like before he had met Kyungsoo.

The other kids in the village played outside each other’s houses, running around and chattering away in one big group. Jongin’s only friend was the woods just on the outskirts of the village. The trees would hide him from the laughter of the other children and the criticisms of his neighbors and parents. He took refuge in the strong, woody limbs, where his dark skin wouldn’t stand out, where it didn’t matter if he was clumsy, where talking wasn’t necessary. He liked the crunch of fallen leaves under his feet, the chirping of birds, and the glow of sunlight pushing through the thicket of trees. He liked to think that one day he could be like a ray of sunlight; even if he was stuck in the dark by himself for a while, at the end of the day, he’d have a bright, warm source to return to.

It was just Jongin and his thoughts, crunching through the snow, his dark, scuffed shoes contrasting with the purity of it. He was rather fond of the snow and ice, a silent blanket draped over every surface that danced with glittering reflections of sunlight. None of the other villagers seemed to appreciate the beauty of the woods, but that meant Jongin had it to himself, just one thing that was special to him.

Except for today. For the first time in all of his seven years, Jongin saw someone else standing among the trees. A small, slight boy around his age, pale skin almost blending into the snow around him, and dark eyes almost as round as the snowball he held in his hands.

“If you keep staring at it, it’s going to melt before you can throw it.”

The other boy looked up, eyes widening with surprise, and a smile shyly broke out on his face.

“Isn’t it pretty?” His eyes sparkle, cheeks flushing almost as red as his lips.

Jongin grins slightly in agreement. “You like snow a lot? Why?”

“Just because… right after it falls, it’s so clean looking, and perfect, because nobody’s ever touched it.”

“Isn’t it lonely, if it hasn’t been touched? Doesn’t it make you feel all alone?”

The other boy’s smile widens. “If you’re here with me, I’m not alone, am I?

I’m Kyungsoo, Do Kyungsoo. What’s your name?”

Jongin barely has time to respond before Kyungsoo’s stomach growls loud enough to make him jump. Being Kyungsoo though, he just beams and insists on dragging Jongin to his house to eat with him, declaring that his mother makes the best seaweed soup and they have leftovers from his own birthday two days previously anyway. It feels so easy to just let Kyungsoo take his hand and lead him out of the trees into the Dos’ cozy house, where warm hugs and hearty food are always waiting, where Kyungsoo’s mother welcomes him into her arms and pinches his cheeks as if he were her own son. Letting his eyelids close as the steaming seaweed soup warms his throat, Jongin feels like it’s the first proper birthday he’s had. No one reprimanding him for poor posture, no one telling him to eat less, no one saying he had to earn his share of love. Just laughter and joyful chatter wafting out of the Dos’ kitchen window, a small light on the outskirts of the woods.

*

The tinkle of the bells hanging from the door hovers in the air, interrupting Jongin’s thoughts. A boy, about eleven, enters the café, wide eyes staring at the chalkboard menus announcing the specials of the day. He hovers around the baked goods, inhaling the aroma of fresh bread and cream and letting out a small sigh, obviously longing for a bite. Finally, he walks up to Jongin at the register, softly stuttering that he’d just have the least expensive drink and nothing else.  

The strange sense of déjà vu Jongin feels provokes him to pluck the nearest donut off of the tray and hand it to the boy, telling him that there was a surplus today and it was free of charge. No one else will miss just one donut, he thought.

Seeing the familiar expression of shock slowly fade to a toothy grin, Jongin smiles wistfully as the boy walks out, the powdered sugar off his fingers with glee.

*

Jongin’s fingers are slightly too long for Kyungsoo’s, but that’s okay, because it gives him an excuse to grip the other’s hand a little tighter. When they take their daily walks in the woods, Jongin will stop and extend his arm, and Kyungsoo will reach out, the warmth of his palm heating the other’s hand and spreading all through his body. Contentment settles over them like a blanket of fallen snow, Kyungsoo’s pale digits, like rays of light, interlocking with Jongin’s dark branches.

One day, as if on cue, teardrops of powdery snow start to fall from the clouds. Kyungsoo outstretches his unoccupied hand to catch them, and though he doesn’t say anything, Jongin sees how his eyes light up at the sight of the precipitation, wide and endearing. Flakes settle in Kyungsoo’s hair and lashes, and it’s absurd how adorable he is when he pouts ever so slightly and hurriedly tries to blink them out.

“Do Kyungsoo… is the snow really prettier than me?” Do Kyungsoo, how are you prettier than the snow?

Kyungsoo turns to face him, lips parting in a confused question mark, and his eyes widen even further when Jongin grabs his shoulder and pulls him in close, gently kissing off the snowflakes resting on his nose. Kyungsoo pulls away, only to stand on his toes and hesitantly press his lips to Jongin’s, light against dark, sun against wood. Jongin doesn’t know how long they stood there together, mouth on mouth and hands linked, with no one but the trees watching. He misses the innocence of that first kiss and the taste of Kyungsoo’s sweet breath, warm in his mouth. Now he just wakes up alone, lips dry and throat tight, and Kyungsoo nowhere to be found despite the touch of his fingers still lingering on Jongin’s cheeks.

Although Jongin left Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo has never quite left Jongin. He is always there in Jongin’s dreams, waiting in the woods. Even though they haven’t met in years, Jongin revisits their memories every night as he restlessly tosses and turns, waking up in a cold sweat as the sun sets in the woods and he is left alone. Days pass by, all the same, because Jongin has no one to spend them with, no one else he wants to spend them with. He rejects all invitations by coworkers and neighbors, because he knows if he becomes attached to them, he’ll only become a burden. He doesn’t want to give them an excuse to throw him away.

As always, Kyungsoo is the exception. He misses the feeling of relying on Kyungsoo, because Kyungsoo would always make room for him, would always have a smile just for Kim Jongin. He misses waiting outside Kyungsoo’s door, knowing that he’d soon come out and they could walk to school together to the rhythm of Kyungsoo’s lively babbling. He misses their endless hours in the woods, the trees trapping them in together but neither of them minding. Even though he couldn’t be with Kyungsoo every second, he’d be next to him whenever possible. Jongin didn’t even care if it looked like he was throwing himself at Kyungsoo, because Kyungsoo was too good to desert him. Kyungsoo was too good to him.

 Jongin tries to be good to Kyungsoo too. After that first snowy day in the woods, he watches Kyungsoo, and he learns every inch of him. He always pretends he doesn’t like the egg rollups in his lunch, knowing full well that they are Kyungsoo’s favorite. He knows how to make Kyungsoo laugh, all of his ticklish places, and how a soft breath on his ear makes him blink rapidly as he flushes, pretending not to notice. He knows how Kyungsoo escapes from everything, clear voice piercing the leaves around him as he sings in the woods, thinking Jongin can’t hear him. That voice, enveloping everything around it in a warm broth, seeping in and softening, puts Jongin at ease, at home. As much as Jongin tries, nothing he does for Kyungsoo can match up to what Kyungsoo can do to him.

The ridges of bark digging into Jongin’s back are slightly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too preoccupied with the words of his parents, thrown at him minutes earlier and now painfully embedded in his mind. Relentless laments of his general messiness, of his barely average grades, of his lack of interest in anything ring through his ears. Jongin stares up at the trees surrounding him, sunlight trickling through and twinkling at him, almost as if it were trying to cheer him up. The autumn breeze irritates his eyes, making him blink rapidly as a hot tear slides down his cheek. At least, that’s the cause behind the watering blurring his vision that he convinces himself of.

Light, familiar footsteps reach his ears, and Jongin looks up at his friend. He hurriedly wipes away the tear and tries to smile naturally, but his breath catches in his throat and he coughs out “Hyung,” muffling the sob trapped in his chest. Jongin hears the crackling of the leaves as his hyung settles on the ground next to him, and the younger boy quietly lets the tears and emotion stream out of him, Kyungsoo taking them wordlessly but understanding all the same. He wraps his arms around the other’s shaking shoulders, and Jongin feels himself melting away in Kyungsoo’s warm grasp. By the time the sun sets, Kyungsoo’s shirt has absorbed all remaining tears, and Jongin’s soft cries are blown away, caught in the branches of the neighboring trees.

*

Jongin stands at the sink in the café, absentmindedly washing dishes as customers trickled in and out. He whistles along to the familiar song playing over the loudspeakers, the melody running through his head like second nature. This version is nice, but Jongin forgets it as soon as it’s over. He really can’t think of anything comparable to Kyungsoo’s warm, clear tone.

A puff of wind sends leaves rustling and scattering across the forest floor, echoing Jongin’s applause after Kyungsoo’s impromptu performance. Even when the cool gusts subsided, Jongin could still feel slight shivers hovering over the back of his neck.  

“You know, I really think you could do it. Be a singer, and get out of this little village.”

Kyungsoo’s smile is soft, hints of sorrow showing even through the spotlight of the sun’s rays shining on his face. “No one in our lifetime has left our town. How could I…?”

Jongin just grins and slaps him on the back. “Hyung, nothing’s stopping you. We’ve always been together, knock on wood. We’ll be the first to make it.”

*

Strolling through the park, Jongin realizes again just how alone he is. Couples walk side by side, hands in each other’s pockets, giggling in the frigid air with nothing but eyes for the other. Children run ahead shrieking with joy as their mothers chase after them, throwing empty threats in the air. Even people who seem to be by themselves have company of a sort- they walk their dogs, talk into their phones, wait on a bench for another someone. Jongin is only surrounded by trees towering over him, shedding their leaves and swaying in the wind. He’s reminded yet again of his early years, when trees were his only home, the only shelter from his worries. He never had a shoulder to lean on, never had any one to snugly press comfort into him with a hug, not until Kyungsoo. Only the woods would remain constantly there, rough bark soaking up his discontent, rays of sun partially extinguishing his loneliness. The searching melodies of birdsong float through the leaves, crying out for a response; listening to them comforts Jongin, to know that he’s not the only one looking for something else. Only now it’s worse, because he knows exactly what’s missing, who should be here but isn’t.

Jongin trudges into the nearest bar, collapsing heavily on the stool even though he hasn’t even touched any alcohol yet. He downs shot after shot, his adam’s apple bobbing in and out at a steady rhythm. The amber liquor burns his throat and runs hot through his veins, but it’s keeping his thoughts at bay. For now. Jongin knows that whenever he manages to stagger back to his apartment and collapse on his bed, he will be completely surrendered to his dreams, or memories, whatever they are.

*

Jongin storms out of the small house him and his father share, slamming the door behind him so hard that it bounced back open. He walked, hastily at first, then breaking out into a run, taking satisfaction in the solid crunches of the fallen leaves beneath his feet. Kyungsoo is waiting in their usual spot, next to the massive rotting log, sunlight radiating off his face and illuminating his teeth when he beams upon seeing Jongin. Jongin can’t stop himself and barrels into Kyungsoo, wrapping his arms around the slight shoulders of his hyung and pulls him tightly to his chest. Kyungsoo puts his hands on Jongin’s shoulders, his eyes round with concern, but he can only say the other’s name before Jongin presses his lips against Kyungsoo’s, breathing heatedly and heavily. All Jongin knows is just Kyungsoo: his sweet breath, soft sighs heating Jongin’s skin; sharp tongue gently gliding over Jongin’s teeth; rosy lips, swelling from Jongin’s edgy nibbles. Jongin could have stood like that forever, breathing in the aroma of Kyungsoo and autumn leaves under the spotlight of the sun with the woods as witness, to ensure it wasn’t all a figment of his imagination. He forces himself to pull away, and it’s hard to look Kyungsoo in the eyes as he utters words that broke the soft whistling of the woods.

“I’m leaving.”

“Jongin-ah.” Kyungsoo’s confused eyes widen as he blinks rapidly, and his lips tighten in a small, unintentional pout.

“After… after my mother died two years ago, my father swore he’d leave this little village. He finally found a job in Seoul, and he says I have to go with him, that I can’t be left here without supervision. We move in a month.” Jongin is surprised at how clean and simple it sounds, how easy it seems to leave.

Kyungsoo’s brow furrows, and he starts shaking his head from side to side in disbelief. “Jongin-ah. You… you… you can just go? You’re just going to go to Seoul.” It almost sounds like he’s saying the words to himself and not Jongin.

“I don’t have a choice. I tried to convince him, to tell him that I only have one and a half years of school left and that I can’t leave yet, but he didn’t even try to hear me out. He’s going to take me kicking and screaming if he has to.” Jongin’s voice cracks on the last few words, like a fallen branch snapping underneath someone’s foot.

Kyungsoo is still shaking his head, staring at the leaves piled up on the ground instead of Jongin. His voice is quiet, but his words ring with desperation. “Maybe you have tried your best. But Kim Jongin is a fighter, and I thought you would resist some more. Maybe you’re not really as against it as you think. What if you’re really just eager to leave this little village? There’s nothing to do, and you’re stuck doing the same thing with the same person every day: you’re trapped in these woods walking with me, and maybe you’re getting sick of it. I can understand that.”

Jongin, horrified, tries to interject, but Kyungsoo plows on, his words running together and growing more panicked. “But you have to know that it’s different for me. It’s not a real day if I don’t stand here in the middle of these woods with you. I… I don’t really know what I’m saying, but I need you, Jongin-ah. You’re the only one who calls me hyung. Even though there are other people I talk to, I don’t really matter to any of them. I’m just their classmate who can help them bring up their grades, just a good, polite little boy. I can’t talk to them about just anything, I can’t sing for them, I can’t enjoy nature with them. I can’t love them. If you’re gone, all these things I love will be missing, and then part of me will be missing, and -“

Kyungsoo has plenty more to say, but he can barely breathe, let alone talk, as tears cascade down his pale cheeks and he surrenders himself to Jongin’s lips. These kisses are more urgent and vigorous than usual, because they know their time is limited. Jongin surrenders himself to Kyungsoo’s warm, sweet breath, and it doesn’t help that now his soft fingers are desperately fluttering over Jongin’s neck, shoulders, and collarbones. They continue until the leaves beneath them grow cold, and early moonlight reflects off of the tree trunks and tear tracks on Kyungsoo’s face.

And this time it is Jongin’s turn to be the comforting one, his arms encircling the other’s waist while Kyungsoo’s head rests in the crook of his neck, sniffling, trembling, and mumbling “Jongin-ah” over and over. And when Jongin wakes up in the present, he swears he can still feel Kyungsoo’s tears all over him, before realizing that they’re his own.

*

He’s surprised by the phone’s ringing, shrilly echoing through the room. Squinting, he glances halfheartedly at the display, expecting the caller to be yet another telemarketer. Puzzled at the unfamiliar area code appearing on the screen, Jongin frowns and picks up. The voice on the other end is one he hasn’t heard in a long time, and he fumbles with the receiver as his grip slackens.  

He pulls out his wallet and counts the bills in it, knowing that there won’t be much left after his purchase. As he gives away his money in exchange for a ticket, he also lets go of worries that have been haunting him for years. No more thoughts of military service and constricting illnesses obstructing his path.

The train ride takes who knows how many hours, for Jongin spends it staring outside the dusty window, watching the crowded, metal buildings slowly fade into the horizon as trees take over. Tall, dark trunks, a fence protecting him from the outside world. Occasional glints of reality in the form of sunlight peek through the gaps, harsh and temporarily blinding.

As he steps into the familiar shadows of the trees, his mind is awash with crisp, cool air and old memories. It all ebbs away when a glint of the sun catches his eye, reflecting off of a familiar pale profile staring at the fallen leaves.

Jongin starts running.