Chapter 4

Winter 1993

In between the snow-capped trees, Chanyeol walked the only paved path, crunching thin layer of snow underneath his shoes. With every step, his cane clinked against the hobbler stone, disrupting the passive peace of the woodland. One step heavy and one step light, the elderly man hobbled slowly down the path. Old war injuries became more and more pronounced as he aged, yet despite the inconvenience of his legs, Chanyeol struggled alone towards the old magnolia tree. White clouds of breaths puffed out of his mouth, blending in with his silver tresses but contrasting sharply against his all-black attires. His aged faced was stoic and emotionless, but his steely grey eyes reflected depthless despair. With each step, Chanyeol’s heart felt an ounce heavier and with each step, the reality hit him a bit harder.

In his cane-less hand, he clenched onto a small wooden box and a white envelope inscribed neatly with handwritings the elderly man was once so familiar with. In the upper left corner of the sealed envelope were the letters PCY.

Park Chanyeol.

And in the bottom right corner, the neat handwriting spelt out DKS.

Doh Kyungsoo.

It was the only letter in forty years.

---

At the back of the Park mansion, there was a small greenhouse. It was built for the first lady of the house, the beautiful Madam Annabelle with eyes of silver smoke. In the cozy greenhouse, she grew blooms of tea rose, flowers that were delicate and soft, and meaningful to her heart. “I’ll remember always,” she used to say, but of what nobody could recall any longer. Sometimes in the glimpse of his dreams, Chanyeol would catch a fragmented memory of his late grandmother waving the flower in front of him when they so rarely spent time together in the moist greenhouse. Her gentle voice would tell his younger self that tea rose meant “I’ll remember always”, she’d say, “I’ll remember always.”  

The said greenhouse still grew blooms of tea rose, flowers that were delicate and soft, and now also meaningful to Chanyeol’s heart. “I’ll always remember,” he’d say as he diligently tended to his flowers every day, watering them and fertilizing them. This had become his habit for the past year, since he retired and passed the family business off to his eldest son. Everyone in the household assumed Chanyeol cultivated these flowers for his late wife who also passed away a year ago and they’d praise him for being a loving husband; the elderly man would simply stretch his lips into a bittersweet smile and avert their eyes. But Oh Sehun of all people knew better. The “I’ll remember always” Chanyeol whispered everyday was only directed towards that one person from happier times, the person the elderly man had searched for with no avail, and the person who was still dear to his heart.

For forty years, Chanyeol never stopped his search for Kyungsoo. Over the years, he had sent out detectives after detectives, but not once were they able to find any trace of the missing man. It was as if Kyungsoo had evaporated in the fire that night, leaving Chanyeol with only a chain and tag always cold to the touch. Despite being one of the most powerful men in South Korea, Chanyeol often felt quite powerless. He realized under certain circumstances, his powers were almost godly, able to move mountains and determine matters of life and death. Yet at other times, his powers were useless; he could not even locate the one person closest to his heart and live the life he wanted to live.

Heir and master. Those were what his family wanted him and expected him to be. To their wishes, Chanyeol had well exceeded his parents’ expectations and he secured both prestige and wealth for the Park family; his career in trade was praised by many as a legacy in post-war South Korea. Gradually, he matured and had come to accept his role in life, as well as his position in the family; he came to understood that his life does not just belong to him and he could not afford to be selfish. Year by year for the sake of his family, Chanyeol persisted on, carrying more and more responsibilities and social expectations on his back. His expressions became stoic and slowly, he became more pensive, calmer, and more reserved. Without much choice, he ended up living a life he could not call his own, but still for the family, Chanyeol lived on. “It is always for the family,” like his late father used to say. So Chanyeol persisted and carried on, and in a blink of an eye, his hair had gone white and wrinkles etched into his handsome face. Looking at his own aged reflection in the mirror, a dry laugh rumbled from Chanyeol’s throat. He was already 66.

甜蜜蜜 你笑得甜蜜蜜 / Sweet like honey, your smile is sweet like honey

Amidst the flowers, there stood an old boombox always winding and rewinding the same cassette of a popular Chinese song from 1979. Originally it was an upbeat song by Teresa Deng, but Chanyeol played a male version of that song in his little greenhouse, a gift from a young Chinese business partner he had befriended when he was last in Beijing two years ago. It was a slower acoustic version of the song, one that conveyed more helpless longing than hidden sweetness. Even though Chanyeol could not understand the lyrics when he first heard it, the clean guitar accompaniment and the young man’s innocent voice plucked at his heartstring. It invoked thoughts of first love and quiet summer nights, and of his forgotten youth from long ago. Smiling kindly, the young man then translated the lyrics for Chanyeol. As the elderly man’s steely eyes softened with nostalgia, the young man placed his pale hand on top of weathered ones.

“You’re remembering that smile sweeter than honey,” he said, amusement in his voice.

“Much sweeter, but now only in my dreams,” Chanyeol replied and smiled frankly in return. Faced with silent pity, the elderly man gave a soft pat on the younger’s back.

“It’s alright, at least I can still dream, right?” he said, “at least there are still dreams,” and the young man could only nod.

Two weeks later, he received the cassette mailed from Beijing with a note attached. ‘I’ve recorded this for you, Mr. Park. I hope your sweet dreams never end’, the sender wrote.

Since then, Chanyeol played this song in his little greenhouse whenever he tended to his blooming tea roses.

好像花儿开在春风里 / Like flowers blooming in the spring breeze

Sehun opened the door to the greenhouse and stepped in with a heavy heart. Immediately, he spotted Chanyeol sitting in the bamboo lounge chair in the middle of the greeneries speckled with petals of pastel pink with his eyes closed. Soft sprays of sunlight defused through the thick panes of glass showered the elderly man, softly illuminating his weakening body, peaceful countenance and thinning snowy white tresses; it was as if the man that had once ruthlessly dominated the business world of South Korea was merely an illusion. ‘Since when did he get so old?’ Sehun wondered as he quietly walked towards the elderly man, ‘since when did he look so weak?’

From the moment he entered the Park estate, Sehun had sworn to himself he will spend the rest of life serving Chanyeol in whichever way he could. Being the adopted son, he was given no official part in the family business but he did not mind; he simply wanted to be helpful to his adoptive father and he prayed that the older man would one day find happiness again. He could never erase from his mind how Chanyeol cried after receiving Kyungsoo’s dog tag. It was a heart-retching, wordless and breathless cry. There were no gasping sobs, howling bawls or wailing weep, but only muted cries that shook Chanyeol’s body from deep within, as if his heart was physically being ripped into pieces and nothing but dreadful silence could convey the intensity of the pain he felt. Since then, Sehun made his lifetime mission to always act and do things in Chanyeol’s best interest, not the family’s interest, and to help his adoptive father find as much happiness as he could. That was also why he became a doctor and took it upon himself to personally care for Chanyeol’s heath in his old age.

在哪里 在哪里见过你 / Where, oh where have I seen you before

Slowly placing a hand on Chanyeol’s arm, Sehun woke the elder man from his shallow slumber. Eyes of steely grey warmed at the sight of the serious man kneeling by his side and Chanyeol smiled kindly at his visitor. A pang of pain resounded in Sehun’s heart and unconsciously, a small frown crawled onto his sculpted face.

“Sehun, you’re here.”

“Yes, appa. How are you feeling today?” Sehun asked politely, the frown still resting in between his brows.

“I’m doing alright, just feeling a little tired tending to the flowers.” Chanyeol replied light-heartedly and looked around at the stems of roses with proud eyes. Then turning back to Sehun, Chanyeol looked straight into his adopted son’s eyes. “Is something bothering you Sehun?”

Returning the other’s concerning gaze, Sehun looked visibly surprised. “Why do you think something’s wrong, appa?” Sighing, Chanyeol cupped Sehun’s chiselled face just like how he used to do when the latter was still a lost child.  

“Because you could never hide how you feel from me, especially when you’re worried,” the elderly man replied softly. Growing up, Sehun learned to conceal his emotions, but he could never rid of the habit of frowning whenever he was concerned. Chanyeol thought this characteristic reflected rather positively on his adopted son; he thought Sehun’s frowns proved him to be a more compassionate doctor and a more humane person.

“So what’s wrong, tell appa.” Chanyeol urged and patted Sehun’s face playfully, a caring and silly grin hung loosely on his lips.

Looking down at his hand on the older man’s leg, Sehun subconsciously leaned into Chanyeol’s rough hand. For a moment, he stayed silent and contemplated his words. He hoped he was making the right decision.

“Appa,” Sehun said quietly, “I found Kyungsoo-shi. He’s… dying.”

你的笑容这样收悉 / Your smile is so familiar 

Chanyeol’s smile froze.

“Kyungsoo-shi was admitted to our hospital about a week ago. He didn’t go by the name Doh Kyungsoo.“ Sehun continued, still avoiding Chanyeol’s piercing gaze, “He asked me not to tell you that I’ve seen him, but I think you should know. He’s really sick and I don’t know how much time is left for him… You should have the chance to say good bye.”

Tense silence hung around the air like heavy dews on a morning rose. Only the voice that still sung of sweet smiles in distance dreams echoed in the small greenhouse. Sehun’s frown deepened and he dreaded having to face Chanyeol again; he dreaded seeing the shock, the pain and the muted rage in the elder man’s smoky eyes. But instead to his surprise, he was greeted with a pair of melancholic eyes as hazy as the flurries of snow outside. Chanyeol was looking far, far away into the distance, deep into his memories and thoughts which only he could see.

“Appa?” Sehun inquired tentatively. His voice shook with uncertainty and anxiety, which spurred from the other’s lack of emotional response. Sehun thought Chanyeol would have reacted more strongly; after all, he imagined a fair amount of longing, resentment and regrets would had piled up in forty years. Yet there the elder man was, looking as tranquil as the icy lake in the woodland. Sehun was at a loss at his adoptive father’s behaviour; he could not understand why and something tells him, he may never understand, just like how he would never come to understand the bond and relationship between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.

我一时想不起 / I can't seem to recall 

Slowly, Chanyeol blinked and shifted his misty gaze on the hundreds of tea roses around. “Yes, it is time to say good bye,” he said calmly, “let’s go say good bye, Sehun.” Without giving his son a chance to reply, the elderly man lifted himself off the lounge chair. Tightly gripping his polished cane in one hand and gently plucking a single tea rose with the other, Chanyeol stumbled towards the entrance of the greenhouse. Perhaps it was his weak wavering form or the air of loneliness surrounding his slouched back, the image of Chanyeol staggering away left a bitter taste in Sehun’s mouth.

啊 在梦里 / Ah, it was in my dream

Sehun hoped he made the right decision.

---

Chanyeol ran his hand over the plastic name tag beside the hospital room entrance. Clearly and neatly, the name Han Kangwoo was written. Chanyeol chuckled bitterly and shook his head. Who’d have thought he was looking for the wrong name all along? A few steps behind, Sehun stood silently by, still with the same frown plastered on his face. A week ago, he was also quite surprised when he came face to face with the terminally ill patient newly admitted to the hospital under the name Han Kangwoo.

He had already briefed the patient’s chart: final stage of lung cancer. Judging by the patient’s age and Korea’s recent history, this was a predictable post-war disease. Sehun only pitied that the patient was not diagnosed sooner, or else he would not be helplessly awaiting death at the age of 65; in many sense, he was still young. Aside from being the board of director for the hospital, Oh Sehun was also a well-regarded doctor in palliative care, a professional at helping patients deal with their terminal diseases psychologically, emotionally and/or spiritually. Reviewing the patient’s chart one more time, Sehun swiped back the curtain segregating each patient in the shared hospital room and introduced himself as Doctor Oh. However when he was greeted by his name rather than his title, Sehun looked up with quizzical brows and subsequently was shocked by the familiar but aged face in front of him. The other man merely smiled faintly, just like how he used to do so many decades ago. ‘I see you have become a doctor, Sehun” the sick man said with abiding softness, ‘good for you.’

Sehun’s frown deepened as he remembered his encounter from a week ago. As a doctor, he was glad his patient was able to remain so calm and rational, but personally Sehun disliked his patient’s rationality and composure. He despised how the other had once walked away heartlessly because it was the most sensible choice; but little did Sehun know that to the man now named Han Kangwoo, that same action was the most irrational decision he had made in his life. He did not choose to disappear because it was the right thing to do. No, he chose to leave because he feared, feared to love and feared to be loved. Fear is often irrational and love, love is never rational.

The doctor watched tensely as Chanyeol knocked on the hospital room door. Moments later, a tanned man in his mid-20s opened the door. Wordlessly he regarded the elderly man with serious eyes then gave a curt nod to Sehun in the back. Like a curious child, Chanyeol could not help but peek into the room. However before he could see much, he was addressed by the younger male.

“You must be Mr. Park,” he said with a polite bow and Chanyeol nodded lightly trying to hide his surprise, “Kangwoo-appa is waiting for you. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Chanyeol replied, still feeling slightly surprised that he was anticipated, even though he thought he was visiting unannounced.

“You’re welcome,” The young man smiled warmly, “It’s nice to have an old friend visit him, especially now.”

Sadness reflected in the young man’s tone and Chanyeol lowered his gaze. Noticing the awkward atmosphere settling in, the tanned man coughed and stepped aside letting Chanyeol in. After another polite bow, he closed the door behind the elderly man.

Looking up again, Chanyeol surveyed the rather small but bright room. Warm sunlight streamed in through the windows and the few furniture and essential medical equipment were dusted in a layer of amber gold. On the bed, a frail white hair man leaned upright against the multiple pillows placed vertically behind his curved back. Deliberately, he turned his face away from the door and looked outside of the windows. From head to toe he was skin and bones and the slight hunch of his shoulder diminished his stature even more. An oxygen mask was affixed to his pale face and his weak body seemed to heave with every faint breath he took. His once plump lips were no longer red, but ashy with sickness. Fatigue of life visibly made its irreversible mark on his once beautiful face as smooth skin crinkled with wrinkles. Eyes as black as moonless nights blinked blankly at the setting sun outside. Everything was so dreamlike for Chanyeol, the familiar yet foreign atmosphere and person; but the sound of the other’s breathing distorted by the oxygen mask was also so alarming and piercing, bring him back to the reality. Without any hesitation, Chanyeol strolled over to the bed with his cane pounding on the floor. The white hair man did not turn to look at his visitor and when Chanyeol made it to the base of the hospital bed, he spoke.

“For forty years, I’ve looked for you, every day. Every day, I looked for any trace of you, to see if you are okay. But for forty years, I couldn’t find you, any trace of you. Sometimes I really believed that you had already died and I was searching for a dead man, but then you’d appear in my dreams again. The same you from forty years ago with bandaged eyes, sitting in front of that small ragged tent. You’d sing and at the end of the song, you’d always look straight at me. Even though your eyes were hideen, I could tell you were looking at me. It’s strange, but again and again, I was sure that you are still alive. So then I'd continue searching like an idiot trying to find a needle in a haystack. But who knew, I was searching for the wrong person all along…”

Chanyeol smiled bitterly and gripped his cane harder until his knuckles turned white. In front of him, the white hair man lowered his head but made no effort to speak or face Chanyeol. Staring intensely at the other’s profile, Chanyeol’s bitter smile widened, distorting his face into a mild absurdity. It was all too similar to the last time they saw each other.

“Doh Kyungsoo,” he called out, voice shaking with suppressed emotions and anger, “I don’t know if I love you more or hate you more. To avoid me, you risked dying and fled from the hospital. Then you even go as far as changing your name so I could never find you. Now that you’re almost dead, you didn’t even think about letting me know. If you didn’t run into Sehun by accident, you would just die in silence, wouldn’t you? You’d just let me continue searching for another forty years, until I die from regret, self-loath and misery, wouldn’t you??”

The white hair man still remained silent but lowered his head further and bit into his lower lip.

“Doh Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol bellowed, no longer able to contain decades of pain and anger, “you really hate me that much?? So much that you didn’t and still won’t give me a chance to say good bye? Is my love for you so wrong that it makes you hate me so much??”

A single tear tumbled out of Chanyeol’s eyes that were laced with red veins. His voice raspy from rage, Chanyeol continued to scream as he slammed the end of his cane on the floor over and over again.

“Doh Kyungsoo!” he yelled, “Doh Kyungsoo! Say something!”

The other man bit harder into his bottom lip.

“Doh Kyungsoo!! Doh-”

“I don’t hate you.” The white hair man finally replied, cutting short of Chanyeol’s desperate cries. With difficulties, he removed the oxygen mask from his face and repeated himself more clearly.

“I don’t hate you, Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo’s voice was still characteristically soft but also raspy from fatigue and sickness. With a sigh, he look straight into Chanyeol’s bloodshot eyes and in an instant, his clear eyes misted over. With a final thud, the cane dropped to the ground and shook under the weight of its owner. Chanyeol leaned against his cane for support as delayed relief washed over him, replacing the mounting fury from merely moments ago. Heaving to catch his breath, he shut his eyes and listened to Kyungsoo’s soft yet hoarse voice.

“I told Sehun not to say anything to you, but of course, he did…” Kyungsoo whispered. His voice was hollow and feeble, like a dying breeze blowing through the empty trunk of a withered tree. “He said this is what I owe you. He said I owe you an explanation and a chance to say goodbye. Do I, Chanyeol?”

“Don’t you?” Chanyeol bit back mercilessly, still catching his breath with his eyes closed. Kyungsoo paused for a slight moment then smiled sadly. Park Chanyeol was no longer the same doting boy he once knew.

“I probably do,” Kyungsoo replied in earnest, “but I am only human, Chanyeol. I am selfish and fearful. I didn't know what else I could have done, so I ran away… I’m sorry if that caused you more pain than I had anticipated.”

Chanyeol opened his eyes and regarded Kyungsoo sharply, who wiped away a stray tear from his eyes with a trembling hand. Straightening up, Chanyeol stumbled towards the side of the bed and sat himself down in the chair placed close by. Gingerly, he reached over and helped to wipe away another loose tear.

“Why did you leave that day, without saying anything?” He croaked while feeling the wrinkles on Kyungsoo’s face as he dabbed at tears falling like pearls on a broken string. He still had a soft spot for the other man and cannot bear to see him cry, even when they both have become old men and had seen the sceneries of life. 

Kyungsoo coughed and heaved a couple of labour breath from the oxygen mask. Ignoring Chanyeol’s worried gaze, he removed the mask from his face and spoke again, sounding even more hollow: “Because I didn’t have the courage to love you anymore. Of course I’d like to stay close to you, but you had a wife and a child back home. Who would I be if I go back with you? I don’t have the courage to love you selflessly and to see you be with another, even if that person is your wife. So I decided to be selfish for once and to leave. I knew leaving while you were still unconscious was the most hurtful thing I could do, but I had to. If I didn’t then, you’d never let me go. I left behind my dog tag, hoping that you’d think I died and would forget me… but who knew,” Kyungsoo’s words quivered with choked emotions, “who knew you’d search for me, for forty years…”

“Yes, for forty years,” Chanyeol sighed, “… why did you change your name?”

“To have a new start, “Kyungsoo replied, suddenly sounding more resolved, “I had nothing left and even you… I felt like I had also lost you. To me, when I left that field hospital, Doh Kyungsoo had already died, so I became Han Kangwoo.”

Savouring Kyungsoo’s words, Chanyeol's heart shriveled and sank deep into his stomach. Slolwy, he mumbled in reply: “You didn’t lose me; you never had and you still didn’t.”

More tears flowed out of Kyungsoo’s eyes and calmly, Chanyeol wiped them away again like he was taking care of a child.

“In these years, I thought about why you left as well. I was also selfish wanting to keep you by my side and I forgot to see the pain you’d feel. After some years, I came to understand that and I forgave you for leaving a long time ago. Yet still, I couldn’t stop my longings for you, so I searched for you. But I never thought you’d change your name...”

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo whispered.

“No, it’s not your fault. You had every right to change your name and start anew… I just wanted any news from you, to know that you’re okay. When years after years, I had no news of you, I thought I’d forget about you and move on. But I couldn’t, not at all. I tried so many times to forget you, to think of you as a dead man and someone who had betrayed me, and rip you out of my heart. But in the end, I still couldn’t do it. In the blink of an eye, I had continued this struggle for forty years. My kids had grown and flown out of the nest and my wife even passed away. Yet still, you are the person that dominates my heart and my mind.”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Kyungsoo whispered again and again in between small sobs. He apologized towards Chanyeol, for taking away any possibilities of ‘what if’s four decades ago. But mostly, Kyungsoo apologized towards his wife and children. He knew he had taken away love and attention that should have been devoted towards them. Even though it was not his fault, Kyungsoo could not help but feel guilty and apologetic. He often pondered about his love for Chanyeol and with Chanyeol, of how much pain they had caused towards others and for each other. So when he walked away that brisk autumn night, he hoped both he and Chanyeol both would be able to start anew. But just like the other, Kyungsoo struggled with forgetting and forgoing that love until his hair turned as white as the magnolia flowers they first saw together many springs ago. Still, he loved Chanyeol; loving the other man seemed to have turned into a necessity like breathing.

Listening to Kyungsoo’s apologies, Chanyeol simply wiped away more tears while shaking his head. 

“There is nothing you need to apologize for, Kyungsoo. It wasn’t your fault or mine, or anybody’s. We simply fell in love and there isn’t any fault in that. I guess in the end, we are just victims of fate and ill-starred destinies.” Chanyeol lamented, “So please Kyungsoo, don’t apologize anymore.”

Trying to stop the other’s flowing tears, Chanyeol flashed a hearty smile, the same one that made Kyungsoo realize his love for the other many summers ago.

“Do you remember?” Chanyeol asked suddenly, slowly placing Kyungsoo’s weathered hand in his wrinkled ones.

Tap, pause, tap tap, pause, tap tap tap.

“Yes, I remember.” Kyungsoo replied with his eyes closed and a small smile returned to his tear-streaked face.

Chanyeol’s own smile widened more. Concentrating hard, he made an engraving of Kyungsoo’s smiling face deep in his mind right next to a younger version he had engraved previously. He knew they do not have much time left; Kyungsoo could go any day now. A rush of remorse and regret filled his heart and Chanyeol breathed in sharply. How he wished there could be more time and how he wished they could have met sooner. Why do their reunions always have to be so brief?

Cupping a hand against Kyungsoo’s face, Chanyeol looked straight into orbs that were still as dark as the moonless sky. Sincerely, he said: “Listen Kyungsoo, I am thankful that I met you and fallen in love with you. I am thankful that with you, I was able to experience an unforgettable love that really is once in a life time. I am thankful that I could be here now, holding your hand one more time and feeling your warmth one more time. I am thankful I was given another chance to say hello and to say goodbye, whether this is for the last time or not. I am terribly afraid that this will be the last time, so I am going to say everything I could not say before.” A pause, “Kyungsoo, you’ve given me so much in this lifetime, I cannot possibly blame you for anything but to thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you… Thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for being you.”

Chanyeol’s voice was deep and unwavering.

“I’m so thankful it is you, Kyungsoo. I love you.”

Kyungsoo held back the tears that were threatening to fall again and smiled until his lips formed into a heart shape. Slowly and softly, he whispered in return, using up almost all of his strength. 

“I love you too, Chanyeol.”

That was the first and last time Kyungsoo had ever said those words.

---

In the silence of the night, Han Kangwoo passed away with a smile on his face.

The same night, Chanyeol saw a 17 year old Kyungsoo waving at him from beneath the old magnolia tree. ‘I’ll wait for you,’ the boy said and Chanyeol nodded from afar. When he was greeted by Sehun with news of Kyungsoo the next morning, Chanyeol lowered his gaze and a single tear glided down his face. “Too soon,” the elderly man mumbled, “too soon.”

---

Han Kangwoo’s funeral was held three days after his passing. It was a simple affair designated at his grave and only a handful of people showed up. Among the couple of friends, some employees from the deceased’s small book store, his son his only family, and a priest, there were also Sehun and Chanyeol. No one questioned their presence and each person grieved solemnly as they took turn placing flowers on the gravestone and saying their final farewells. Sehun placed down a single magnolia flower without many words while Chanyeol stood solidly by, clutching a wrapped bouquet in one hand while gripping his cane in the other. Few pairs of curious eyes darted towards the elderly man, but no one questioned outloud why he did not place down his bouquet, and the informal ceremony carried on. After the priest gave his blessings, Han Kangwoo’s son, the tanned young man Chanyeol had briefly met at the hospital, began to recite a poem as per the deceased’s will. It was “A boat beneath the sunny sky” by Lewis Carroll from his novel Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. Among the flurries of snowflakes that began to dance, the young man recited the poem.  

A boat beneath a sunny sky,

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July –

Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear –

Long had paled that sunny sky;

Echoes fade and memories die.

Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream –

Lingering in the golden gleam –

Life, what is it but a dream?

Looking down at the bouquet of tea rose in his hands, the last line of the poem resounded in Chanyeol’s ears. Scene after scene, memories of Kyungsoo replayed in front of the elder man’s eyes.

Indeed. Life, what is it but a dream.

When he came to again, he realized most mourners had already bid their goodbyes to Han Kangwoo’s son. Before long, only he and Sehun remained. The son knelt by his father’s grave and gathered the bunches of flowers to the sides of the grave, revealing the deceased name on the gravestone. Chanyeol hobbled over and knelt down next to the young man. Wordlessly, he finally placed down his bouquet below the name that still so unfamiliar to him.

“If I’d know he’d leave so soon, I would have asked you to come later just so I could have spent more time with him.” The younger man said.

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol asked. He could not sense if it was jealousy or enmity in the other’s tone.

“He was waiting for you,” the young man replied lightly and caressed over the engraved name, “ever since he saw Doctor Oh, he was waiting for you. He was always waiting for you, even though he was too stubborn to say so. I’m glad in the end he got to see you, Mr. Park. I’m glad he could have a happy ending.”

Chanyeol observed the young man with a slight frown. He learned from Sehun the young man’s name was Kim Jongin and he was the adopted son of Kyungsoo. The elderly man wondered how much this child actually knew about Kyungsoo’s past and their relationship.

“I could guess who you were to Kangwoo-appa,” Jongin smiled wryly when he saw Chanyeol’s expression, “in the past few months, he often called your name in his sleep when he was burning high fevers. But every time when I ask about you, he’d only ruffle my hair and fake a smile. I never told him, but he was always a horrible liar and his fake smiles were just awful. Since then, I knew you were someone special to appa, someone who was probably more than a friend he had lost.”

Chanyeol’s frown deepened and a thin layer of mist clouded grey eyes as hard as steel. Jongin continued to speak without taking notice of the change in the elderly man.

“So when you came unannounced that day, I was really glad. Kangwoo-appa was a great man and he deserved to go without any regret. My parents passed away when I was 14, but none of my relatives wanted to adopt me because my parents were estranged from their respective families. Then Kangwoo-appa stepped in and despite being a single male with a struggling business and just a friend of my late father, he adopted me with no hesitation. He gave me a family far warmer than any of my relatives could have. I am really grateful towards him and I guess the least I could do for him was to keep him company until he passed away. He’s a strange sort of man really, always so quiet and solidary. He never tried to look for a partner even though he always looked so lonely. Eventually I figured he was probably waiting for someone, or else why would he remain unmarried for so long? Though, I never thought the person he was waiting for is an old man, not that I’m judging his preference or anything.”

Jongin chuckled light-heartedly but his smile was wiped away in an instant when he saw the elderly man again. Chanyeol’s lips pressed tightly against each other, stretching his mouth into a thin line. His frail body trembled uncontrollably in the winter morning, but Jongin could tell it was not from the cold. Without a blink, the elderly man stared hard at the name on the gravestone even though shimmering tears that refused to fall had already blurred the characters. Silently, Jongin lowered his gaze towards the flowers of soft pastel pink.

“Tea rose…” he whispered. Then after a long breath, he let out a resigning sigh. Gently, he helped Chanyeol stand up. Sehun walked over and wrapped a protective arm around Chanyeol’s weakening form, supporting the elder man. Without another word, Jongin reached into his coat and pulled out a small box and a letter. Contemplating for a moment, he placed both items in Chanyeol’s still trembling hands.

“I believe this is for you,” he said nodding towards the letter, “and the other, I think he’d like it if you have it.” Chanyeol looked down at the small, sealed wooden box next to the letter: Kyungsoo’s remains.

“I am sure he’d like to be close to you once again,” the young man mumbled, “this is probably for the best." Taking one last look at the small box, Jongin bowed deeply at Chanyeol. "Please take care of him.” he said sincerely then walked away into the falling snow, leaving behind a confused Sehun and Chanyeol who clasped the wooden box and letter close to his heart.

---

He did not know how much time had passed when the old magnolia tree finally came into view. Half panting and struggling with sore limbs, Chanyeol stood beneath his favourite tree and leaned against its sturdy trunk. Looking up, he squinted at the hazy winter sun shining through the bare branches. A single bud on the tallest branch wavered in the snowy breeze. Winter will soon pass and spring was on its way; but Chanyeol knew spring breeze will never feel warm to him again.

The elderly man caressed the wooden box in his palm with his thumb and reluctantly, he tucked it into the inner pocket of his coat. Then carefully, he tore open the envelope containing the only letter from the other man in forty years. Inside, there was a piece of paper with a poem written on it. It was Kyungsoo’s handwriting.

Quietly, he read and let the words sink into his heart, his being and his soul.

Quietly, he placed the poem back into its envelope with trembling hands.

Quietly, he wept and grieved for that person who used to stand with him beneath their favourite tree.

---

One step heavy and one step light, Chanyeol went back to his greenhouse. Among the hundreds of tea roses of pastel pink, he placed the letter inside a worn out, leather-bound box that already contained a record with no label, a bookmark of pressed magnolia flower, and a dog tag with the engraving Doh Kyungsoo. Pressing play on the small boombox, the elderly man hobbled in between the flowers with watering can in one hand and the small wooden box placed squarely in the palm of the other. At last, they were together again. 

---

At the back of the Park mansion, there was a small greenhouse. All year round, there’d be an old man with eyes of silver smoke tending to the flowers. Every day without fail, he tended to the flowers until he became bedridden with sickness and old age. In the cozy greenhouse, he grew blooms of tea rose, flowers that were delicate and soft, and meaningful to his heart. “I’ll remember always,” he'd always say, but of what only he knew. Even after he passed away and turned into dust, the roses continued to bloom day after day and year after year, as if not willing to let that promise disappear.

‘I’ll remember always of you and me and of those times, happy and sad, together and apart. I’ll remember always,’ the flowers seemed to say, ‘of the words said and words we could not say. I will remember, always.’

---

If only in death you and me could be we,

then I welcome death with open arms.

We could not promise each other a lifetime,

only to have lived that brief once in a lifetime.

But in death, we could have eternity,

an eternity of the lifetime we had always dreamed of.

Below the same sky, the same tree;

Listening to the same wind, the same rain;

I vow to you,

in death you and me will be we.

- Doh Kyungsoo

Author’s note: ….I don’t know what to say. You can see this as the end, but I consider the epilogue as the real ending. For those of you asking me if there is a happy ending, I told you, sort of… right? Maybe the epilogue is happier??

Also the Chinese characters are the lyrics to Luhan’s new song TianMiMi (甜蜜蜜). This song really inspired the first part of this chapter and honestly, what I had planned before was quite different from how it actually turned out. Anyways, please comment and read the epilogue!