Kyungsoo’s head hurt. His eyes were tired. And yet there was nothing. Nothing again. He pulled the blank paper out of his vintage 1954 Erika 10 typewriter, crumpling it up and throwing it into the wastebasket. The wastebasket was already overflowing, a sign that his writer’s block had lasted far longer than he would have like. He emptied the waste basket once a day, if he didn’t his room would be overflowing with crumpled pages by now.

In fact his writer’s block was going on four years now- four torturous years. It had been that long since his novel “Burning History” had swept best seller’s lists. A powerful story of loss and acceptance and love, his novel was critically acclaimed. Yet it had been four years since talk show hosts and book geeks had proclaimed Do Kyungsoo the “it” author of his generation.

In the years since Kyungsoo tried and tried again to write a new novel, yet nothing came. He had even went on a few weekend retreats for writers in hopes of easing his problem, unfortunately he came home with nothing more than a head cold and a serious case of social overdose.

“Maybe if you tried typing on something that was made this century you would have some more luck.”

Kyungsoo shot daggers towards the source of the snarky comment. It was Park Chanyeol, his roommate, standing in the door to his home office.

“Shut up Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo turned back to the typewriter, massaging his temples in a fruitless effort to ease his tension headache.

“Hey, I am just trying to help.” Chanyeol didn’t shut up and he didn’t go away. Instead he walked into the room and plopped down in the rickety old floral patterned chair that Kyungsoo had long ago shoved in a corner and forgotten about.

“I don’t see you writing any masterpieces.” Kyungsoo shot back. Chanyeol could annoy him like no other; on the flip side he could make Kyungsoo crack a smile and laugh like no other, so it was a give and take relationship. It was a hallmark of their decades old friendship. It had started in elementary school when Kyungsoo was on the receiving end of a bully and Chanyeol stood up for him. Ever since then they were friends.

Still, those closest to Kyungsoo- his mother, his older brother, his editor Jongdae, and the few people he considered friends – had been surprised when he had announced his intention to let Chanyeol move into his apartment. They were, despite their old friendship, very different people. While Chanyeol gravitated towards social situations, Kyungsoo hide from them. While Kyungsoo was neat and tidy, Chanyeol was messy and attracted clutter. While Kyungsoo prided himself in highbrow literary pursuits Chanyeol wrote fart jokes.

“Nope, I don’t plan on it either.” Chanyeol replied. He had been working as a head writer for a popular variety show for the last five years – his entire career was built on lowbrow humor. “But seriously Kyungsoo, you are starting to worry me.”

Before Kyungsoo could launch into another round of “It is just taking a bit longer this time. Don’t worry” his phone rang.

He already knew who it was, and that person was not about to help the situation. Lifting the phone to his ear he braced for another lecture.

“Hey kiddo, how is it going?” The voice on the line asked.

“Fine.” Kyungsoo lied.

“So you are writing?!” It was Kim Jongdae, editor extraordinaire. He had been Kyungsoo’s friend since they met in college; he had been Kyungsoo’s worse nightmare since writer’s block had hit.

“Uh, well…”

“Kyungsoo, you are starting to worry me…” Jongdae didn’t bother lecturing him this time, his voice was full of genuine concern.

Kyungsoo sighed “You aren’t the first person to say that to me today.” He shot an annoyed look at Chanyeol, who was busy examining his nails.

“Hey, maybe it is time you get away from the city for a while. Find some inspiration?” Jongdae suggested.

“Get away from the city? Where would I go?” Kyungsoo asked. He had grown up in Seoul, he was a city guy through and through. His idea of a rugged adventure was a walk down the street to his favorite coffee shop.

“Mokpo!” Chanyeol chimed in, clearly listening in on the few words exchanged thus far despite his feigned disinterest.

“M-o-k-p-o?” Kyungsoo said slowly.

“See, you already figured it out. Good luck, call me when you get there.” Jongdae said quickly, hanging up without another word.

Kyungsoo held the phone to his ear, registering the fact he had just inadvertently told his editor he was going on a sojourn he didn’t really want to go on.

“Are you going?! You will have so much fun!” Chanyeol clapped his hands excitedly. “The sea, mountains, good food, drinks! Maybe a cute guy...” Chanyeol winked.

“Jongdae thinks I should go.” Kyungsoo said quietly, putting his phone back on the desk “I don’t want to….”

“Listen, you aren’t getting any work done here. Just take a couple of weeks, rent an apartment near the sea. Take it easy. You don’t have anything left to lose, right?” Chanyeol smiled “And I will keep everything under control here.”

A mental image of his apartment on fire and Chanyeol running from the building flashed before his eyes “Don’t think I won’t have my Mother check in while I am gone.”

“Then it is settled. Do Kyungsoo’s Mokpo adventure coming right up! I will book the train ticket!” Chanyeol leapt up, as excited about the adventure as if he was going on it himself.

Kyungsoo groaned but nodded. Chanyeol was right, at this point he didn’t have anything else to loose.

--------------------------------

195 minutes. That is how long the train ride from Seoul to Mokpo would take, or so Chanyeol had told Kyungsoo- as he practically shoved him on the train and waved goodbye. Kyungsoo found a seat in a nearly deserted section, and thankfully no one sat next to him. Kyungsoo placed his earbuds in and surprisingly fell asleep during the ride, to the sound of Handel’s Teseo.

He awoke with a train attendant shaking his shoulder “Sir, we have arrived in Mokpo.” Kyungsoo, groggy, thanked the man and disembarked. He pulled out the piece of paper that Chanyeol had given him, with an address scribbled in Chanyeol’s messy handwriting under the title WHERE YOU ARE STAYING.

He would have to take a cab there, or so he assumed. After grabbing his suitcase, which was heavy with the weight of his typewriter, Kyungsoo followed the signs directing him towards waiting taxis. He was surprised then, when he reached the taxi pickup location, to see a man holding a sign that most certainly had “Do Kyungsoo” written on it in big bold letters. Figuring that Chanyeol had hired the ride, Kyungsoo approached the man.

As Kyungsoo got closer he noticed that the taxi cab operator did not look much older than himself – but then again looks could be deceiving. People often mistook Kyungsoo as years younger than his actual age. The taxi driver was kind of cute too if Kyungsoo was being honest with himself- he was on the smaller side, with eyes that Kyungsoo could swear were almost cat like. Wide, single lidded, expressive.

The taxi driver’s hair was a bit shaggy, in need of a trim, and when he smiled (as he did when Kyungsoo approached him) his chubby cheeks made his entire face look round and adorable. Kyungsoo suddenly felt like he needed to look at the road, the sidewalk, anything but the cab driver.

“I was wondering when you would get here.” The driver said with excitement, taking Kyungsoo’s luggage from him.

“Oh, um.” Kyungsoo was never the best at first impressions, so he just nodded and got in the back seat.

The driver closed the trunk with a thud, getting in the car and starting it up. “You are staying in Yoo-dal, right?”

Kyungsoo glanced at the paper in his hand, zeroing in on the address “It appears so.” He had let Chanyeol plan the trip, he guessed his roommate was playing the over eager travel planner because he knew if he didn’t Kyungsoo would never have went. What Kyungsoo didn’t realize before leaving Seoul is why Chanyeol wanted Kyungsoo to go to Mokpo, but he quickly figured it out.

As the taxi left the train station, the city of Mokpo became apparent. It was scenic – in a strange industrial way, but it was poor – dirty even. Kyungsoo bit his bottom lip, wondering why his friend thought this was the place to inspire him. Seoul’s rough neighborhoods were something he avoided – why would a city that seemed to resemble the shanty towns of South Korea’s largest Metropolis draw him in? And then he remembered Chanyeol’s lectures – about seeing things from the other side.

“How do you like it so far?” The taxi driver asked.

Kyungsoo snapped out of his momentary internal cursing of Chanyeol and everything he stood for as he noticed the taxi driver was making eye contact via the rear view mirror, waiting for Kyungsoo’s answer.

“Oh, well, it is…scenic.”

“That it is. Kind of run down, but the old city and some of the areas near the port aren’t so bad. I am Minseok by the way.”

Kyungsoo didn’t normally introduce himself to taxi drivers, but he figured since he was on vacation (even if he was on an unwelcome one) he could be at least slightly adventuresome “Do Kyungsoo.” Then Kyungsoo remembered the driver had been waiting for him with his name on a placard, of course he knew who he was. Kyungsoo blushed slightly, turning his attention back towards the rundown concrete buildings.

“What are you planning on seeing while you are here?” Minseok asked, stopping at a red light, turning around slightly as he asked the question.

Kyungsoo wasn’t really sure what he was going to do. Chanyeol had shoved a travel guide in his hands, pink and yellow sticky notes jutting from the small book – giving him plenty of options. “I am not sure. Any recommendations?”

“You really need to walk in Yoodal San Park, you are staying so close after all. Oh, and the Dancing Sea Fountain, go see that at night. Downtown at night is a must too. During the day there are some museums and- sorry, am I naming too many things?”

A blaring of several car horns, sounding out in unison from behind the taxi, had Minseok turning around and shaking his fist. He stepped on the gas, Kyungsoo gripping the seat in surprise. Seoul was not exactly filled with good drivers, but so far it seemed that Mokpo gave Seoul a run for its money.

“How about I take you around one day? If you are free, I mean. Not to be weird, but I have lived here my whole life.” Minseok offered.

Kyungsoo wanted to say no, his entire being wanted him to say no, but he didn’t. “Sure, that would be nice. If you have time that is.”

“How about tomorrow? I have off.”

Kyungsoo nodded, not sure what he had just agreed to.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo had found his small rented house, only two blocks walk to the sea, sparsely accommodated. Even if it lacked some of the amenities he was used to (like a consistently hot shower) it would work, at least for a couple of weeks. He had settled in after Minseok dropped him off (and exchanged phone numbers with him), flicking the television as he unpacked.

Jongdae had called, then Chanyeol. Kyungsoo ate ramyun, then fell asleep to an old movie on television. In the morning he showered, screamed at the cold water that intermittently jetted out of the shower head, and dressed in a comfortable pair of khakis and a t-shirt. Minseok had said he would pick him up at nine, which was fast approaching.

Kyungsoo went outside, downing a cup of coffee as he waited. He was surprised when Minseok pulled up in his taxi cab. Kyungsoo had always thought taxi cab drivers had to leave their cars back at the company when they were off duty – but then again Kyungsoo had never actually hung out with a cab driver before.

Minseok parked the car and jumped out, bounding up to where Kyungsoo stood on the small deck.

“Ready?” He grinned, his smile lopsided. Kyungsoo took note of how cute it was, before shoving the thought to the back of his head. He was here to write, not crush and/or lust after random taxi drivers.

--------------------------------

An hour later Kyungsoo found himself staring at the remains of a ship, propped up on a modern wooden stand. The unfinished 2 x 4s were a sharp contrast to the dark, sea eroded planks of the formerly sunken vessel.

“It sunk 600 years ago.” Minseok said in awe, staring at the ship from beside Kyungsoo “Can you imagine that? How different it was? Another world…almost.”

Kyungsoo wanted to be snarky and say he could, but he just nodded. Something about this Minseok guy had him on his best behavior. Something about how poignant, how honest, Minseok spoke had Kyungsoo moving away from his sarcastic first nature.

“Amazing to think of who could have been on this ship, huh?” Minseok asked, tracing the railing that surrounded the exhibit absent mindedly “How they lived.”

“Do you like history?” Kyungsoo found himself asking.

Minseok laughed, lilting. Somehow it sounded a little bit sad. “You could say that.”

“So..um, Minseok, what made you want to be at taxi driver?” Kyungsoo asked as they walked from the sunken ship to the next exhibit, a case full of recovered gold coins. Kyungsoo found the maritime museum to be small by Seoul standards, but he was still interested in what it had to offer.

“It just kind of happened.” Minseok answered.

“Do you have family here?” Kyungsoo asked, not quite sure why he suddenly became so chatty. Minseok definitely had a strange effect on him. Or maybe it was just the effect of being on vacation. That must be it, he told himself.

“No, not any more. Now, come on- you are going to love our next stop.” Minseok grabbed Kyungsoo’s arm, dragging him away from the exhibit. Kyungsoo realized that there were no more exhibits to view at the museum so he gladly followed Minseok’s lead.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo did not love the next stop. Not at all. In fact he felt like vomiting soon after they arrived. As Minseok held up the fish, urging it towards Kyungsoo’s mouth, Kyungsoo gagged, turning his head away.

“Come on, I promise you will like it.” Minseok pleaded, his voice taking on a louder tone as he remained firm, the piece fish still fast approaching Kyungsoo. The scent of ammonia was strong, radiating from the food.

They were seated at a small diner near the sea, a place that Minseok promised had the most authentic and delicious Mokpo delicacies in the entire city. It was quaint, but the front of the store (a half wall of wide windows) had a great view of the rocky shoreline.

Kyungsoo shut his eyes tight and leaned forward, his mouth open. Minseok laughed at his reaction, shoving the piece of fermented skate into his mouth.

Kyungsoo chewed, cringing before he could even taste the food. The taste started to sink in and Kyungsoo opened his eyes wide – realizing it wasn’t some type of nasty poison. “It is delicious!” He said in surprise as he savored the taste. Sure, it was strong – but with a bite of kimchi shoveled in his mouth right after it tasted like heaven.

“I knew you could do it!” Minseok clapped, grinning “Only a Mokpo native can eat this stuff. Usually, anyway.”

Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what came over him as he shoveled piece after piece of the dish, which he learned was called Hongheohoe, in his mouth. Minseok watched, eating sparingly, smiling as his lunch partner devoured almost the entire plate.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo felt the walkway under him move, shifting ever so slightly with the waves. “Are you sure it is safe?” He asked, staring at Minseok as he gripped the handrails tightly.

“Yes it is safe. Now come on.” Minseok grabbed Kyungsoo’s hand pulling him forward along the wooden walkway, jutting out over the sea. Kyungsoo was very aware of Minseok’s hand in his own. It was slightly wider than Kyungsoo’s own hand, which felt comforting in some strange way.

They stopped in front of the sandstone rock formations, Minseok putting an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders as they looked at the strange things Mother Nature had wrought - a sculpture carved by the weather and the sea.

“They say it looks like a man wearing a hat. What do you think?” Minseok asked, leaning towards Kyungsoo ever so slightly.

He could feel Minseok’s hot breath on his cheek, even if it was ever so faint. He could feel the strong arm around his shoulder, lazy and relaxed. He could smell Minseok, a mix of the smell of the sea, something musky, something comforting like baby powder. He breathed in, drinking in the scent before he regained his senses. In alarm, he jerked away, leaving Minseok staring at him with a surprised expression.

“It just looks like rocks.” Kyungsoo said quickly, turning back towards where they came from “Do you think maybe you should take me home now?”

Minseok nodded, quietly walking back towards the taxi cab.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo stared at the ceiling. Why did he make things harder than they should be? It wasn’t like he didn’t find Minseok attractive. Plus, how could he even know if the taxi driver even liked him – or even liked men for that matter?

He had panicked, plain and simple. He had never been good at getting close to people, especially people he found attractive. His last venture into dating had ended after a month of making the beyond attractive investment banker Byun Baekhyun too annoyed to be around him. And that had been five years ago. This entire thing, it was overwhelming. Or was it? Was he just making a mole hill into a mountain?

Kyungsoo’s phone rang. He grabbed it from the night stand, seeing that it was Chanyeol he picked up.

“Hey, I was sleeping. I will call you tomorrow.” Kyungsoo answered, told, and hung up in one sentence, too lost in his own thoughts to want to talk to another person.

He finally found sleep a few hours later.

--------------------------------

He dusted off his beloved typewriter, the olive green metal machine, setting it up at the small desk in the bedroom of the rental. He would have taken paper out and loaded it in if he thought it would do any good. It wouldn’t – because his thoughts were so far removed from writing he knew it was hopeless. He had decided that he had most definitely offended his one day friend – Minseok – and that meant he was a failure in everything.

He pulled up his number, Minseok’s, in his contact list a dozen times but never called him. When Kyungsoo’s phone rang he nearly dropped it. It was Minseok. He took a gulp of air, taking deep and shallow breaths before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, we never finished our tour yesterday. Do you have time today?”

“Sure!” Kyungsoo scrunched his face up at his over eagerness, adding “Sorry I cut the tour short yesterday.”

“No problem. I’ll pick you up at four?”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” Kyungsoo held his phone to his ear for a half a minute after the call ended, smiling. Then he caught himself, wiping the smile from his face he fell back into bed, groaning and flailing his limbs in self-induced frustration.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo was surprised at Hadang. It was a part of the city that looked vibrant, youthful…new.

“The trendy part.” Minseok commented, as if reading Kyungsoo’s mind.

There were nightclubs and restaurants that wouldn’t be entirely out in Hongdae, their neon lights calling all visitors amid the bustling traffic. Kyungsoo followed Minseok through the crowded streets, stopping on the concrete walkway that s slightly from the crowded sidewalk. It went along the seashore, with parking lots covering what once might have been a rock and sand beach.

Minseok checked his watch. “Just in time.”

Kyungsoo didn’t have time to ask what they were in time for before a loud pop song began blaring. And then the sea rose up. First in a stream, then with colorful images and words and a water wall, traversing the rainbow, appearing against the open water like a strange under-the-sea laser show.

Kyungsoo’s mouth made a perfect O as he watched. He had definitely never seen anything like this in Seoul.

“The sea fountain. Beautiful isn’t it?”

Kyungsoo nodded. Even if there was something very commercial about the area, about the blaring pop songs that the water pulsed to, he could not deny that the sea fountain was a sight to behold.

“I took you here once, but it was so different then.”

Despite the blaring music, the sounds of other people watching the fountain – talking excitedly, Kyungsoo could have sworn Minseok had said it. “What did you say?” He asked, needing confirmation.

Minseok didn’t answer, he turned to Kyungsoo, pulling him into a hug. Kyungsoo stiffened, shocked at the sudden display of affection. His discomfort passed quickly as he found himself softening into the embrace, moving his hands to hug Minseok back. It was so unlike him…but it was so easy for him to do oddly enough.

“I am glad I met you, Do Kyungsoo.” Minseok whispered, this time it was unmistakable, it was right in his ear. A quiet sentiment, heard loud and clear, as the Mokpo sea fountain and its playlist droned on, no longer the point of interest.

--------------------------------

Minseok had dropped Kyungsoo off a little after ten. Kyungsoo smiled and waved as the white taxi cab pulled away. The rest of the evening (post-hug as Kyungsoo was mentally referring to it) was low-key. Minseok hadn’t hugged him or held hands after the skinship near the fountain. They had eaten dinner (seafood at a trendy restaurant that Minseok insisted on paying for) and bought red bean ice cream at a small shop for dessert.

The lack of subsequent skinship was okay, Kyungsoo told himself – because he wasn’t vacationing in Mokpo for that any way. Plus, he had just met the man. Even if Minseok was adorable, and y, and seemed to know exactly what could hold Kyungsoo’s interest, even if he was kind of perfect and – Thankfully his phone rang, snapping him out of his Minseok thought coma.

“Hello?”

“Thanks for calling me this morning, friend.” Chanyeol spat out.

Kyungsoo knew he wasn’t really annoyed “So did you burn our place down yet?”

“No. But hey- remember that toy helicopter I was missing? I found it under the couch!”

“I hide it there.” Kyungsoo had done just that after he had the plastic annoyance fly into his face one too many times.

“You did? Well, your Mom found it, so guess what?!”

“Helicopt-yeol time?” Kyungsoo answered flatly, remembering the annoying phrase that Chanyeol had always shouted as he played with the accursed toy.

“You bet your sweet britches. So what have you been up to? See the sea, meet any cuties and give them my number?”

“You wish.” Kyungsoo scoffed “I have been too busy hanging out with that cab driver you hired. He is actually a really cool guy.”

“Mm Hm.”

“Are you ignoring me and playing with your helicopter?” Kyungsoo asked in annoyance,

“Maaaaaaaybe?”

Kyungsoo heard some rustling on the other end of the line, then Chanyeol jumped back on “Fine, I put it away. So, what were you saying – a cab driver or something?”

“Yeah, the one you hired. Minseok. He took me for a tour of the city and we w-“

“What cab driver I hired?” Chanyeol asked.

“The one that picked me up from the train station. Any way, he has a-"

“I never hired a cab driver.”

“Stop joking around.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, wishing he was in the same room with Chanyeol so he could slap his arm for trying to play such a lame joke on him.

“Kyungsoo…I am serious. I set up a rental car for you. Look at your paper.”

Kyungsoo was not about to believe his friend, but he knew well enough that Chanyeol had taken his “planning paper” seriously, so he pulled out the crinkled and folded page from his wallet. He scanned down, past the train schedule, the address of the hotel – and then the instructions. SeaSide Car Rentals was indeed written there, along with the photocopied receipt for the rental car.

“You have to be kidding me?! He was at the train station with a sign with my name on it!” Kyungsoo gasped, trying to imagine what kind of freak Minseok was. Could he be a stalker fan? Someone obsessed with his last novel? No, he seemed too normal. Or was that part of his plan?!

“Oh my god- call the police! Is he there now?” Chanyeol panicked.

“No, no, he isn’t here. He knows where I am staying though! What am I going to do?”

“Leave! Come back! What if he is trying to kidnap you…or kill you….or sell you into slavery?” Chanyeol fueled his best friend’s imagination. They had not embarked on the writing path without reason.

Kyungsoo yelped at the mental image of Minseok, his face contorted, a knife in his hand. He moved quickly, pulling his clothes from the closet and throwing them into his suitcase. He grabbed his precious typewriter, carefully placing it in his luggage. Then, with a slam, he locked the hard shelled suitcase and snapped it shut.

“I am leaving. I will see you in a few hours.” He hung the phone up, cutting off Chanyeol’s “OMG, don’t hang up” shouts from the other end of the phone.

Kyungsoo threw the door open, dragging his suitcase behind him. He would need to walk to the bus stop up the road, or hail a passing cab if he found one. He had his suitcase one step away from the sidewalk, still hanging on the last step of the deck, when he jumped backwards at a noise. A voice to be more exact.

“We need to talk.”

It was Minseok. Kyungsoo froze, widening his eyes in terror “Who…wha…who are you?”

“More importantly, who are you?” Minseok pulled a photograph from his pocket, holding it out towards Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo eyed it suspiciously. He could barely make it out, the deck light shining behind him drowned out by his shadow.

“I am not going to hurt you.” Minseok said quietly, reacting to Kyungsoo’s reluctance and fright.

Finally Kyungsoo reached forward, bracing ever so much in case he was attacked. He took the picture, holding it up so he could see it in the light.

Minseok watched him, his left eyebrow slightly raised as if in curiosity. His hands were in his jean pockets, his head slightly cocked to the side as he waited for Kyungsoo’s reaction.

Kyungsoo felt like he was suddenly devoid of oxygen. He gulped, wheezing once as he took a deep breath. Yet it was there, in his hands. “This isn’t possible…”

Minseok stepped forward, placing his hands on Kyungsoo’s shoulders as if to hold him upright.

“Have you really come back to me?” Minseok asked as he looked into Kyungsoo’s eyes, a tear escaping down his cheek. Kyungsoo’s face felt warm as he stared back, meeting Minseok’s eyes. Ever so briefly there was something oddly familiar there, something that made Kyungsoo’s mind feel hazy and out of sorts.

Kyungsoo looked back at the picture, his grip on his luggage loosening as he drank in the image. It was him, it was Minseok. That was for sure. Even if he wanted to be rational – to accuse Minseok of photo shopping the image- he knew that it would be a lie. Somehow he knew, without question it was real. He didn’t know how, but he did. He felt it.

“What year was this?” Kyungsoo asked quietly.

“1954.” Minseok answered, his voice mournful and low.

“1954….” Kyungsoo whispered, like he needed to hear it from his own mouth to believe it.

“You want to know how, don’t you?” Minseok said softly, another tear escaping down his cheek. “Of course you do…but you probably will not believe it if I told you.”

Kyungsoo jerked back, letting Minseok’s arms fall from where they were placed on Kyungsoo’s shoulders “No, I don’t want to know how. I just want to leave.”

Kyungsoo stared Minseok down. He had to be insane, completely insane, Kyungsoo decided. Even if something felt genuine about the photograph, even if Kyungsoo felt like it wasn’t the work of an insane fan or stalker, that there was something there. Kyungsoo tried to think rationally, burying the feelings of something else that he dare not consider. He tried to convince himself how crazy all of it was.

Minseok nodded then, stepping back to allow Kyungsoo to move past him. “Go. It is a lot to handle. Just please…take the picture with you.”

Kyungsoo wanted to throw the thing back at Minseok, but he didn’t. He shoved it in his pocket, grabbed the handle of his suitcase, and walked past Minseok.

Minseok didn’t say anything more, and Kyungsoo didn’t turn around to see if he was still just standing and watching him leave. Four hours later Kyungsoo was back in Seoul, the picture still in the pocket of his jeans.

--------------------------------

Kyungsoo inhaled deeply. He was standing in front of Jongdae’s office, a sinking feeling in his stomach. His editor had heard he returned to Seoul two days ago and had asked to see him – in person. If Jongdae needed to see him face to face the news would probably not be in Kyungsoo’s favor, especially since he had yet to write anything.

Twisting the doorknob, Kyungsoo slowly opened the large paneled door. The sound of Jongdae on the phone rang out (Kyungsoo had always made fun of Jongdae and his “phone voice”). The editor was seated with his chair turned away from the doorway; Kyungsoo used Jongdae’s momentary inability to notice him to sneak in and take a seat in one of the leather chairs facing his desk.

“It will be a hit! I know it!” Jongdae crooned into the phone. Kyungsoo figured he must be on the phone with another one of his writers- one that actually wrote, unlike Kyungsoo.

Jongdae turned his chair slightly, noticing Kyungsoo’s arrival. Kyungsoo could almost swear that Jongdae grimaced ever so slightly when he saw him.

“Hey, I have to let you go. Remember, the meeting is at nine tomorrow.” Jongdae nodded “Yep that is correct. All right, take care. See you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone, placing it face down on his desk.

“Kyungsoo!” Jongdae tried to sound excited, but Kyungsoo could see right through him. They had known each other for a long time now, he knew when Jongdae was putting on an act.

“Hey. What is the bad news, boss?” Kyungsoo figured it was better to just get to the point right away, skipping the façade of pleasantries and small talk. If this was bad news, which he was certain it would be, Jongdae was probably struggling with delivering it as much as Kyungsoo was struggling at having to hear it.

“Fine. You know me too well.” Jongdae sighed, “Kyungsoo, I am sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Kyungsoo asked, but he could guess. It was pretty miraculous they hadn’t had this conversation earlier.

“We are not going to renew your contract.” Jongdae looked sad “I tried to fight it, I did. But there isn’t much to go on – you haven’t written anything in four years. We can’t keep representing you, pouring in man hours and handling PR if there is no money to be made. The royalties are now tiered towards your pocket, which means we are making very little off of your last book now.”

Kyungsoo nodded, solemn.

“I am so sorry. Please believe me.” Jongdae pleaded.

“I know.” Kyungsoo said simply. He knew Jongdae went to bat for him, he could always count on him for that.

Jongdae leaned forward in his chair, his expression sorrowful “Kyungsoo, I am saying this as a friend, not as an editor. I know you have the next great novel somewhere in that brain of yours. You do – you always have. You just need to find it and I know you will. And as you try to figure it out I will be there as a friend, I am sorry I can’t be there as an editor too. Not until you finish another book, that is. Then I will fight tooth and nail to sign you again.”

Kyungsoo assured Jongdae it was okay, it would all be okay. As he left the building he wanted to believe that this was true. He really wanted to believe it.

--------------------------------

It was a week later when the package arrived. Chanyeol brought it into the home office, placing it on Kyungsoo’s desk carefully.

“The return address is Mokpo. I’d be careful, it might be that stalker fan of yours – Mansouk or whatever he was calling himself.” Chanyeol eyed the package suspiciously.

Kyungsoo looked at the box, wrapped in brown mailing paper. He had pushed Minseok from his mind in the last week, he hadn’t wanted to think about how much he failed in Mokpo because he was too busy thinking about how much he had failed in the last week in Seoul. More crumpled paper, more blank pages. He picked up the package, shaking it slightly.

Chanyeol jumped back at his actions “It could be a bomb! Don’t shake it!”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. “It is not a bomb. I don’t think he wants to hurt me. Plus he doesn’t know my address.”

“He knew you were going to Mokpo – don’t think he doesn’t know your address, phone number, identity card number. Those people are crazy!” Chanyeol began backing towards the doorway to the home office, trying to put distance between himself and the package.

Kyungsoo didn’t bother answering his roommate’s accusations, he was suddenly very curious. Was the package from Minseok? Maybe it was something from the person who owned the rental – maybe he left something behind when he was hightailing it out of there. As he started to peel the paper back Chanyeol hid his face behind his hands.

Once he had the paper off of the package, it was a few seconds and the lid was lifted, revealing a stack of old newspapers. They were yellowed, folded in neat little rectangles. Kyungsoo put them on his desk, shifting them around to see if there was a note. There wasn’t one, so he turned his attention to the dates and headlines on the newspapers.

Then he froze. December 2nd, 1954. He began opening the papers one by one, they were all from that year. It had to have been Minseok that had sent them.

Chanyeol had opened his eyes, noting the lack of an explosion as a signal that the danger had passed “Who sent you a bunch of newspapers?” He asked, picking one up from the desk.

“I don’t know.” Kyungsoo lied. He hadn’t told Chanyeol about his last run in with Minseok. He wasn’t quite sure why he had left that part out, there was just something so strange about it that he wanted to keep it to himself.

“Well, have fun with your musty old news. I am off to dinner, this handsome catch has a date.” Chanyeol lost interest in the package quickly once he realized it held very boring, inane newspapers.

Kyungsoo sat down at his desk, sorting the papers by date. They started in July 1954, working all the way up to May 1955. Headlines about the repatriation of war dead and articles touting the regime of Syngman Rhee dominated the pages. Kyungsoo thought back to the question he didn’t want answered – which is why Minseok had that picture. He guessed that this was part of the answer- that somewhere in these pages was a message that Minseok was trying to send him.

Kyungsoo read through a few articles, growing sleepy as he tried to recall if he had learned some of the details in his history class in college. His eyes grew heavy. Finally he pushed the papers to a corner of his desk and went to bed.

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Kyungsoo woke up around three in the morning. He tossed and turned for a half an hour before giving up on sleep all together. Soon he was back in his office, staring at the stack of papers. And then something miraculous happened. He picked up a blank sheet of paper, loading it into his typewriter. And he began to type. The words seemed to flow, as page after page was completed, all neatly stacked in a pile resting on top of the yellowed newspapers.

--------------------------------

“He is writing again!” Chanyeol announced excitedly. He knew Kyungsoo wouldn’t call Jongdae any time soon, so Chanyeol had taken it upon himself to do so. When Kyungsoo wrote, as rare as an event as that had been in the past few years, he was completely absorbed in his task and hated distractions.

“You have to be kidding me? Really?! That is great!” Jongdae almost fell out of his chair at the news. “Do you know what?”

“No clue. But it is Kyungsoo so you know it has to be good.” Chanyeol smiled. He was happy, so very happy that Kyungsoo had found his voice again. He didn’t particularly care how it had happened, just that it had.

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Kyungsoo examined the felt hat. It was grey, with dirt smudged slightly on the brim. It had arrived that morning via another package with a Mokpo return address. He set it on his desk, staring at it he started to type. It was strange, he decided, how things had turned out.

It had been two weeks since he had received the newspapers. It had been three weeks since he met Minseok. It had been four years since he felt this way – that he was writing something worth reading. It had started off with an idea, born from a stack of newspapers. Of a man living in Mokpo. A soldier, a former prisoner of war recently freed from North Korean captivity. Of a man, returned to an authoritarian regime and a controlled chaos in a port city in the South. Of a man, who had a family that became strangers in his absence. And of a man who found someone who wasn’t so strange to him in such a strange land, a strange land that was once as familiar as the back of his hand.

And maybe this man had a grey felt hat. He probably hadn’t worn it since before the war. It was nice, one of the nicest things he had ever owned. He had spent a good part of a pay check on it before the war. His Mother had tucked it away and kept it for him when he was off fighting. He wore it then, when he was back home, but one rainy day it fell into a puddle. It wouldn’t have been that important, shouldn’t have been, but to the man this hat was more than something nice to wear. It was a symbol, and now it was marked by the world like his life had been during the war.

Five days later another package came. This time it was a lighter, a small cheaply plated thing, badly dented. The man smoked. He didn’t particularly care about his lighter like he did his hat. It wasn’t expensive, it was something he bought from a corner store. He dropped it one day at the factory he was working in, denting it as it banged against a machine. He was nearly fired for bringing a lighter into the factory, near combustible fuel. He cried that night, fearing being fired because he was the only one left to support his Mother and sister.

A week and a half after that it was a small pocket screwdriver. His lucky charm. His Father gave it to him. It was no bigger than a coin, with four metal edges to fit different types of screws. The man had carried it everywhere with him. He had lost it one day, and had mourned the loss. His friend, the man who was not so strange to him, found him another one. Then his luck wouldn’t run out.

The next week it was a playbill. The man and his friend went to the theater one Saturday night. It was the first time they had kissed, in the shadows, in an alley behind the theater as rain fell.

Then came a small silver ring. The man had received it but wouldn’t wear it because his friend wouldn’t wear it either. His friend was engaged to marry someone else, a woman, she was the daughter of a family friend. It was a situation that couldn’t be avoided. It was a tangle of depression, of hopelessness, of abandonment. It was the last thing the man thought of as he felt his hand let go of the cold, metal railing, the sea beckoning him below.

A full eight weeks after Kyungsoo opened a bundle of newspapers the final package arrived. It was an address, in Mokpo. Kyungsoo knew where it led, and he would go there. Right after he finished his book.

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It was raining, a light mist, as Kyungsoo dropped his completed novel off at Jongdae’s office.

“Hey kiddo- I know it is going to be great! The signed contract is in the mail!” Jongdae was all smiles as he took the papers from his friend. “But you are looking a little thin. Have you been eating?”

Kyungsoo laughed, nodding “Yeah. You know how I get when I write.”

“I do, but you still need to take care of yourself.” Jongdae then went back to staring at the stack of paper “I can’t believe you finished this in a little over two months.”

“Surprising, isn’t it.” Kyungsoo agreed. His first novel had taken him the better part of two years to produce.

“What inspired you? I am seriously curious.” Jongdae questioned, setting the precious new novel down on his desk.

“Let’s just say that trip to Mokpo was exactly what I needed.” Kyungsoo answered cryptically.

“Oh…well that is good than. Hey, are you wearing a ring?”

“This old thing?” Kyungsoo looked down at the silver band on his ring finger “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Are you okay?” Jongdae cocked an eyebrow. Kyungsoo seemed unusually spacey for some reason.

“I am fine.” Kyungsoo assured his friend “Just trying to get out of writing mode.”

“All right. I’ll call you once I am done reading it.”

“Sounds good.” Kyungsoo turned to leave, stopping before he reached the door “Hey, I am going to Mokpo for a bit, to unwind. Just to let you know.”

Jongdae nodded slowly “Take care Kyungsoo.”

“I will, you too.” Kyungsoo left Jongdae’s office, hailing a cab for the train station.

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The address led Kyungsoo to the place he wanted to be for the last month and a half- at least. But he couldn’t go there, not until he had finished his book.

It had started off simply. He began writing what he thought might be an interesting story of a man in 1954 Mokpo. He knew that his inspiration was from that crazy fan – Minseok. Then it started to become something else.

Kyungsoo had the first dream shortly after he received the felt hat. He was in Mokpo- he was the main character in his novel. He met Minseok, but Minseok was called something else, a savior for him during a dark time in his life.

The taxi was parked outside of the small house when he arrived. It was already dark. Kyungsoo was nervous. It would be the first time facing Minseok like this….knowing. He knocked quietly on the door, almost afraid that Minseok would answer it and turn out to be a crazy stalker fan after all – that Kyungsoo would be the crazy one for having convinced himself of all of this.

The door opened.

“Welcome home.” Minseok was crying as he pulled Kyungsoo into his arms.

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Kyungsoo relaxed, relishing the feeling of being held by Minseok. They were lying in Minseok’s small bed. The sun was starting to rise, they had spent a long night kissing, caressing, and talking sparingly- explanations falling in the background as they appreciated what had returned to them. Words were not necessary as they busied themselves with their physical reintroduction, decades overdue.

Finally Kyungsoo asked the question that had been bothering him “How did you know I was coming to Mokpo? The first time I came, I mean.”

“You would be surprised what you can find out on the internet.” Minseok laughed.

“You are a stalker fan!” Kyungsoo sat up, playfully hitting Minseok’s arm.

“I think we both know that isn’t true.” Minseok smiled for a moment before growing serious “Like I said, I saw your picture on the back of your book and I knew it was you. And that was…”Minseok mentally calculated “Over a year ago now.”

“So you figured out I was now a successful author – why didn’t you come find me right away?”

“Ha! Based on your reaction after hanging out with me for two days I hate to think what you would have done if I had shown up at your apartment in Seoul. You probably would have had me arrested.”

“Okay, that is fair.” Kyungsoo agreed “But what made you remember?” Kyungsoo knew his own memories had been awakened because of Minseok, he couldn’t imagine how the other man had recalled them without the help of another person, or the help of objects familiar to him in the past.

Minseok looked sad “I was walking near the sea…and I remembered when they found your-“Minseok swallowed, he didn’t want to say it but he did “Your body. Because that is where I walked into the sea…a few days later.”

Kyungsoo remained quiet, taking it all in. He had guessed as much, that Minseok had followed after him then. For a moment he thought it had all been selfish, but then he realized it wasn’t as easy as that. It never had been.

“Let’s stop talking about the sad stuff. I have too many happy things I want to do with you.” Minseok smiled, pulling Kyungsoo back into a tight embrace and planting half a dozen kisses all over his face. “Now comes the important question. Are you moving to Mokpo or am I moving to Seoul?”

“Ah, right. We do still have things to sort out.” Kyungsoo wasn't sure what would be the best arrangement “Let’s think about that tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

The room grew quiet as both men relaxed, their bodies pressed tightly together, a desperation born of a long time apart from each other. Lifetimes apart.

“I love you Kyungsoo, I won’t leave you this time. I won’t ever leave you.” Minseok whispered, wanting to affirm the fact before they fell asleep.

“I love you too Minseok. Thanks for finding me.” Kyungsoo answered, breathing the words into Minseok’s chest.

“Hmm. Thank you for letting me into your world.” Minseok whispered back, planting one last kiss on Kyungsoo’s mouth before they fell asleep, fell into a tomorrow that was sixty years in the making.

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The small grass covered mounds and the concrete tablets jutted out from the landscape. They painted the side of the small hill, the black stone contrasting with the overgrown grass. Kyungsoo didn’t have to ask for directions, he didn’t bother mentioning it to Minseok. He needed to come alone. He found what he was looking for, like he had known where it was all along. It was a halfway up the hill, overgrown.

Kim Kyung Min

1929-1955

He placed the bouquet of flowers on the grave. The memory of the sea, of the fall, of the regret…it was held in this place, heavy against the hillside. It was a kiss by a movie theater, it was a silver ring that symbolized a bond – a silver ring that never displayed that bond openly. It was a thousand days never lived, it was decades of love falling into easy companionship unrealized.

Kyungsoo turned, walking a few feet to the adjoining grave. It was Minseok’s grave - even if the letters carved into the tablet bore another name. He had bought two bouquets at the floral shop. The second white bundle was placed on this grave, carefully. Maybe he was so reverent because he never knew how he had followed him soon after, how could he – it wasn't his story. His story had ended, a few days before. Leaning down he traced the inscription, shedding a tear as he relished the fact all was no longer lost, it was just beginning.

Lee Dong Suk

1926-1955