Lay pressed each key with certainty and finesse. He loved the blunt honesty of the piano; he confided in it. No matter how many cruelties he pounded into it, the keyboard never betrayed him, never told him what he didn’t want to hear. Minutes passed slowly, if at all, and moments lingered, strung in the air like lanterns. In that particular moment, he was missing home. He sank into the silence of his grandparents’ house, his fingers dancing passionately as he recalled the smell of homemade ma po tofu and craved the Changsha city lights. It was not so long ago that he had been lying in bed beneath knitted sheets, begging for something, anything, to happen. No, time could not reach him here. Cameras could not find him, fans could not hear him. It was him and the faint glow of a memory, nothing else. There was a bass drum knock on the door that didn’t match the rhythm of Lay’s melody, and his imagination gradually veered off the road. If I could just reach the horizon, I’m almost there, I…

“I’m sorry,” Kris said, immediately regretting his intrusion. Humility swarmed around both of their faces. Lay stood up, half conscious, half dazed, and shrugged.

“Sorry,” Kris said again, “I was just worried that you’d accidentally spend your whole free day cooped up here. It seems like these are kind of an annual thing so this could be your one chance to get out.”

“You think I’m cooped up?” Lay said, his body lurching forward aggressively. He didn’t like being interrupted; he especially didn’t like people telling him how he felt.

“Well, no, I was wondering if you might want to go get lunch or something, but it’s okay.” Kris held his hands up, backing away, surrendering. Hostile wasn’t the first word to come to Kris’s mind when he thought of Lay, he was astonished that he had the ability to put bone rattling fear into another person. Lay was surprised too. Not wanting to prove weak in his fleeting instant of dominance and also not wanting to stay wallowing in almost tears all day, he zipped up his coat and hoped that Kris was still in the building.

“Are there any good Chinese restaurants around?” Lay asked, as Kris paced in hallway.

“You changed your mind?”

“I guess.” Lay’s tongue burned with the acidic aftertaste of hateful words, and he really wanted some ma po tofu.

            It was a relief to be somewhere new, and they felt like foreigners in the hustle of Seoul. They were observers of the cycle, insiders, yet total strangers, and it excited them that even if people were recognizing them, they didn’t give a damn. Lay gripped Kris’s hand out of pure childish giddiness, warming his stiff fingers, giving it a squeeze whenever the wind blew.

            The day was gray; the clouds hovered, threatening to lash out, and Kris could feel the weight of the world. As he and Lay strolled down the crammed sidewalk, he thought about the night before and how Lay smelled of tired sweat and raspberries. Kris glanced at him, admiring the way he blinked and getting wrapped up in the heat of his hands.

“Have you ever been to Namsan?” Kris asked.

“No. Have you?”

“No, but I heard it’s got a beautiful view.”

“Let’s get some warm dalgona first. Tao said I needed to try it.”

            As they traveled farther from Seoul, the gap between reality and fantasy widened. Frost capped trees and pink blossoms whirred by in a dizzying cotton candy dream. Lay grasped the sensation until his knuckles turned white, wishing to be in the piano room where time remained stagnant and he could swim around in this pool forever. It was a feeling he thought he’d forgotten, but it came with the aroma of bread baking in a brick oven and the sound of Ferris wheels and rain. Without a name, it festered in his gut and spread outwards through an intricate system of veins and nerves until it felt like he had been stuck by lightening. There was a false hope of escape that he and Kris shared. There was no harm in it, it was just a false alarm.

            For four hours, the two sat in comfortable silence, falling asleep, waking up closer and closer and then the mountain stood before them, stoic and regal. Kris lifted his chin, as if trying to mirror its majesty, and Lay laughed.

“Very statuesque,” Lay said. Although it was he that was the joke, Kris couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted from his heart. It was easier to move after that.

            Going up the mountain was similar to walking around the city, except at a 40 degree angle. Kris kept saying, “We’re almost there,” so that it became automatic whenever either of them began to breathe heavily.

“This is pathetic,” Lay said, who had yet to stop laughing.

“Yeah, I really thought we would have better stamina than this,” Kris said, pointing at a middle aged couple who was nearly running up the stairs. Kris smiled, holding in the giggle out of respect, though Lay couldn’t get a hold of himself.

“I’m really happy. Thank you for getting me out of that stuffy place.”

            Kris inhaled the compliment, accompanied by the fresh mountain air and sizzling potato swirls. At the sight of the top, he nearly fell over. His head seemed to clear, and the way Lay’s normally glazed eyes shined, he could tell the effect was mutual. Puzzle pieces began to fit together and a picture of happier times started to take form.

“Wow,” Lay said, marveling over the forestry and the complexity of nature. Mesmerized, he wandered over to the edge of the mountain, breathing in sharply. Kris, who followed him like a puppy, halted. Seoul looked so far away from them, and he sat down to appreciate it longer.

“I don’t like this view,” Lay said, shattering the serenity.

“But the city looks so distant.”

“From here I can see it as it is. At least in the midst of it, I can still pretend it’s Changsha and the atmosphere isn’t so different. Up on this mountain, I know now for sure that I am not where I am supposed to be.”

            Some colorful birds sang a lullaby as Kris was swept away by a wind he had never encountered before. He had always been fond of Lay, that was true, and he was one of the few in the band that had an opinion of their own. Could it be that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t afraid to cut the marionette strings and dance on his own? He was tired of being told what to do, tired of putting up with it, tired. Glimpsing at Lay, finding the rise and fall of his chest tantalizing, the only thing Kris could do was shout.

“I want to go home!”

“I want to be free!” Lay called out.

            They took turns screaming their wishes and deepest desires, and though they weren’t alone, they still felt that their secrets were kept solely between themselves and the mountain. Tears wet the dirt around Lay and the droplets he was too exhausted to wipe froze to his cheeks. Emphasizing with Lay, Kris sighed. He thought about his home in Canada every day, but going back wasn’t an option. The corners of Lay’s lips were being pulled down by something other than gravity, and Kris suddenly felt it was his duty to get Lay away from whatever was troubling him. He needed Lay on his side, and he needed Lay to be safe, and it was the need for Lay that was getting harder for Kris to keep from possessing him. And in one sideways glance, the boy had him. Without asking, without realizing, Lay’s heavy eyelids fluttered and when he opened them, everything was different. Kris closed his own eyes, exhaling loudly, and accepting that he would find Lay  there, permanently residing in the balcony of his mind, forever beckoning him to come outside.