Sungjong had dreamed of reunions before – he and Myungsoo would just meet on the streets – it’d be accidental, causal - or at a party thrown by a common friend. Someone’s birthday, someone’s funeral. He had no idea that the last one would actually come true in a strange twisted way. In a hollow decrepit way.  

He didn’t know how to feel about it - he felt uninvited; it was inappropriate. He didn’t go to every patient’s funeral. So why was he here?

As he stood there, impeccably dressed in black, and gazed over at Myungsoo, standing beside the priest, he felt a twist in his stomach. Seconds later, Myungsoo was looking over at him, his eyes bloodshot from the night. The lines on his face, nonexistent only the night before, weighed down his face; it was as if he had aged in just a day.

Sungjong couldn’t read the language in his eyes, actually he didn’t want to. He knew they demanded something in return – a reply to the letter that was still in his pocket.

He fumbled with the note in his pocket.

It felt like a stone in his throat. It was too soon, too early. And yet, he couldn’t help but think about the hundreds of letters he had written to Myungsoo, letters he had never had the gall to post. To be fair, they were for himself, not so much for Myungsoo. They were a way to admit things he wouldn’t actually admit in his head. The letters were questions he would never be able to ask Myungsoo in real life, because he was too scared to know the answers.

But Myungsoo was different, he had always been different. He had written the only letter that meant something to him and given it to Sungjong. He had asked questions like he was certain of the answers. There was no way he could know Sungjong’s answer. He didn’t know it himself.

And yet, I do, he thought as his mouth went dry. These were not thoughts appropriate for a funeral. Today was all about Jiyeon. Today was so that Jiyeon could rest in peace.

When the prayers ended and the people who had offered their condolences to Myungsoo started to clear the area, Sungjong couldn’t move his legs. He was rooted to the spot and even when he saw Myungsoo tracing the steps towards him, he couldn’t run away.

From the corner of his eyes, he watched Daehyun and Suzy leaving. They seemed to be walking away purposefully, quiet determination in their footsteps. They had come today for him, he knew. They were here to make sure his fragile feelings were not hurt. But perhaps they had seen the look in Sungjong’s eyes, or the gaze he had exchanged with Myungsoo in mourning. Perhaps they thought that the battle was lost. Faintly, he remembered the time when he had planned to introduce Suzy to Daehyun. But she had refused, looking stoic. It seemed like another lifetime.  

Last night when he had broken the news about Jiyeon to Suzy, she had cried but she had worried more about Sungjong. She had repeatedly told him that he wasn’t at fault and when he had assured her that he was alright, she had bitten her lips and looked torn. She had probably wanted to ask him something but in the end she hadn’t. Just as him, she had been afraid to hear the answer.

At the funeral, he had seen the confusion in her eyes, as if she too was asking him for a reply to a question she had asked ages ago. He was worried that he even saw accusation there – she had waited for so long. But as far as he remembered, he had never given her hope, never. He tried to forget the lingering hurt in her face; he told himself that he should be used to it by now.

But it was Myungsoo’s face that was more alarming.

Myungsoo – who could choke him up, who could inflict pain of all proportions on him – was there standing in front of him. He looked like he had just buried his skeletons below the ground and now his soul reached out to Sungjong.

Before either of them could speak a word, Myungsoo lowered himself to the ground on his knees to Sungjong’s utter embarrassment. The grounds were almost empty by now, but still Sungjong felt as if there were eyes on them. Disapproving eyes. They looked strangely like Daehyun’s, Suzy’s, and to his horror, Jiyeon’s. He stared at his feet, trying to ignore the heat burning up his cheeks.

He was mortified to find that he had still not lost the power to blush.

“Sungjong, I know you’ve read it.” His voice was soft but steady, just as it had always been when he was serious. His eyes were moist and there were tear tracks on his cheeks. Despite everything, he looked like the boyfriend Sungjong had adored in the past, the companion he had loved. After all this time…

But this is not appropriate, he wanted to say. This is not the time and place. Opposing emotions tore at him, making it hard to breathe. Finally, he sighed.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me you still love me.”

Myungsoo was crying inside; he could tell from his voice.

He remained silent – he had waited a long time for this, but whether he had really wanted this, or was it only a dream of his – he wasn’t sure about that. In the face of the moment, he couldn’t perceive his emotions. Actually, all his emotions were tangled up and he was tongue-tied, scared that whatever left his throat would be a lie, a mistake, a misdirected step.

The silent stretched on, he couldn’t even apologise.

“Then tell me you forgive me.”

Myungsoo took Sungjong’s hands in his. He cradled them gently, feeling the skin with the tips of his fingers. Sungjong devoured the silence, the touch. His heart was screaming but not a word escaped his lips. He was growing paler by the second; his heartbeats steadily accelerating.

“At least tell me there’s hope.”

Once again, silence greeted his plea but when Myungsoo pressed his lips onto his hand, he didn’t protest. He watched Myungsoo’s bowed head and he felt tears streaming down his cheeks.

Snow started to fall all of a sudden. At first the flakes fell in ones and twos – they landed on his hair, on their shoulders. Then they started to fall steadily as the first of the flakes melted on his eyelashes.

He slowly kneeled down in front of Myungsoo. Now at the same level, they looked into each others eyes. He ventured deeper into his heart and soul and he realized, with a small jolt of ecstasy, that he could indeed recognize the man in front of him - it was the same Myungsoo – it was like finding his soul mate.

Sungjong cupped his cheeks softly and leaned in, saying, almost in a whisper, “There is always hope, Myungsoo; there is always hope,” – something the elder used to tell him all the time.