Yongguk remembers the day too well.

Junhong has always been a pet. Nobody else smiled as brightly as he did when he showed around the email he had got from the forum member. It was a bright day, and everything his effort had stricken the gold bits. They weren’t going to kick start, Yongguk knew – he wasn’t going to follow up university, where he wanted to go he wanted to walk the hard way.

His rap was chosen! Junhong smiled the sweetest. He was proud of his hyung, he said, and those words engraved themselves deeply. It wasn’t his parents he had impressed that evening, but other than his sharp-tongued brother, Junhong was his sole supporter.

When Yongguk sneaked out of his window to meet the forum members in the club that night, Junhong waited in the lawn, all smiles and exited. He was just as happy as Yongguk was when he got in, and patted his hyung out of humble honor.

Junhong never missed a single show. He was always there, it’s become quite a habit to meet eyes with the blonde boy every time he went up on stage. That was back in 2001, Yongguk was struggling with school in the midst of making music a part of his life. His parents wanted better out of their sun, he wasn’t beaming sunshine all his life, but Junhong brought the day around for him.

He’d always come running with a bag of Cherry tomatoes dangling by his knees. He skipped his feet and always took two steps at once while he made his way into the room upstairs, where Yongguk would be practicing, or writing lyrics.

There had never been a muse as distracting as Junhong.

The two of them would often sit by Yongguks grand farther and listen to him encourage the two, to follow their hearts, and the great heroes some had become, a long time ago.

When Soul connection dissolved, Junhong shared the tears with Yongguk over his first cigarette, and choked his lungs out. His eyes were red and puffy, and he was suffocating – honestly, but it made Yongguk laugh a lot – and he had to remind himself that Junhong was still so young to be best friends with. He is no adult.

Junhong grumbled on how inconsiderate Yongguk is, laughing at him in pain – but smiled shyly seconds later. Yongguk remembers the look on those red eyes too clearly. “But I’m glad you’re laughing.”

It never occurred to Yongguk it had been love. It was true companionship, a treasure that’s quite rare.

It did, later.
A long time late. The realization was a sweet treat, he felt no regret for having to leave Junhong – but rather, glad. So truly pleased that he had experienced love. Forgiving, selfless love.

Years later, quite successful in the industry; Yongguk had moved out to a tiny, one bedroom apartment to the other side of town, and since, Junhong seldom visited. Looking up at the white clouds, Yongguk started to blink out a bit of sand. As he rubbed his eyes over, he started to wonder. ‘It was always him visiting me, wasn’t it? Did I never go to meet him?’ and as he tried to find one place, and none came, he felt washed with guilt.

He got too busy.

He had visited Seoul for a recording several weeks earlier, and took part in an audition for TS. Junhong brought in the mail stacked over the door along the bags of snacks he bought over, and was the person to announce that he had passed the audition.

It didn’t strike Yongguk too hard, but he was happy – and he let Junhong know. They acted goofy throwing cheers around the dining table, but as Junhong left – quite late in the night, Yongguk felt something off about the boy.

He had never offered to walk him home, but that night, he just did. On his way, several meters behi