Carpe noctem

Seize the night.

Time once again passed in that slow, painful way that it had before. Junhong had failed in his whole ouija board excursion, and every time he’d tried it since hasn’t worked. As if in protest of his lack of ability to communicate with the dead, the book would no longer open. It’s leather cover lay closed over the yellowing pages within as if some heavy weight was placed upon it. The rest of the pages were a blur in his memory, and no matter how much mind-wracking he did, there was no way he could remember the remainder of what he had read. In defeat, he attempted to return the book again, but just like each and every time before it laid on his doorstep once he’d come home. Begrudgingly, he brought it inside and it sat on his desk like it had so many times before.

The only event that had occurred that was even worth mentioning was a new face that had seemed to have appeared from the darkest recesses of the jungles. He was tanned, with messy hair darker than the night itself. There was an air of mystery about him, but also an essence of openness, like he held no secrets to be hidden. When he came to the supermarket, Junhong felt his eyes on him. A hint of observance was in his stare, but it mostly held curiosity. He couldn’t really pinpoint it, but this man seemed so interested in him. From the first time he spilled coffee on his apron, to each and every time they met eyes at the register there was that curiosity. The only explanation Junhong could think of was both probable and improbable, but it was what he chose to believe; that man had to be gay.

When he wasn’t working graveyard shifts at the supermarket, Junhong was at home. There was nothing left for him to do. All attempts with the book had failed, and the dark claws that had gripped him in the past were starting to set in once again. He was without motivation to do much more than go from work to home. However, when he found himself at a complete loss of what to do, one thing that always busied his mind -- as well as his hand -- was the more shameful parts of the internet. That’s not something he would admit to many people, but he knew it was something that most did. It wasn’t truly something to be ashamed of, right?

No. Of course not.

That was besides the point; the point being Junhong was aimless yet again. He had no idea what to do with himself. Months had passed since the last time he had been able to open that book, and merely one had passed since that man had begun showing up at the supermarket. Despite that man’s interest, he couldn’t find himself caring much for him. He was like those girls who did nothing but fawn and faint over him, the only exception being he wasn’t quite as obnoxious. Sure, he had to wash his apron for the first time in three years when he’d spilled coffee over it, but the coffee Junhong offered in consolidation put such a strange surprised look on his face. A little annoying, maybe, but not obnoxious, he’d decided.

Finally, though, something added a little bit of colour to his life. Quite literally, in fact. It was midnight on a Sunday, and Junhong was just thirty minutes from finishing up his shift. Register duty never really suited his tastes, but it was enjoyable to see all of the different people who came through. That particular man who he had apparently caught the eye of came through, right after the most sad and deflated woman he had ever seen. Junhong uttered a quiet prayer as she left, wishing for better things to come for her before he turned and faced the man.

He was in different attire on that early morning. His usual bulky jumper was replaced with a thin cotton t-shirt that hung low enough to expose his deep collar bones. The pants he often wore were replaced by shorts that stretched past his knees and there were sunglasses perched upon his head and keeping his hair back, despite the fact that there was no sun to speak of. But what he was wearing was not what piqued his interest. Instead, it was the colourful tattoos that spanned across his chest and down both of his arms. They were absolutely stunning. The colours blended together like professionally done watercolours and the words mixed in with the beautiful portraits of different animals looked as if they had been typed with a computer. Yellows gave way to oranges and those in turn gave way to reds which gave way to purples and so on. The words changed with the colours and the way they were inscribed into his skin was almost preternatural. Though that also could have been due to the fact that the text was in a familiar, unreadable language. Without even the slightest of doubts, Junhong was intrigued.

“I love your sleeves,” Junhong complimented, attempting make conversation. He had an idea turning the gears in his head. “You’ve got a beautiful language tattooed on your arms.”

The man chuckled in response and thanked him before selecting a particular string of words that spun around his wrist like a bracelet. It was a Latin proverb, he’d explained, and as he talked about it the tattoo itself seemed to almost shine. Strange.

Once he was done speaking, Junhong immediately -- he cursed himself at the quickness and rude manner of his response -- pointed out that the language wasn’t Latin. “It’s been translated into something else,” the man said, and Junhong knew this was an opportunity that he had to jump at.

“I have a book and it… It has that language in it.” He found himself making embarrassed eye contact with his shoes. This wasn't something that he wanted to ask of a stranger, but there was no way he could let this slip past him. “Do you think that you could translate it?”

The man gave him an unseen nod and replied with “Of course,” and Junhong whipped his head up so fast it gave him whiplash. He hastily introduced himself and asked to meet up a few hours after his shift ended, at three in the morning. He hoped the other had nothing going on.

“Yongguk,” the man replied and took Junhong’s outstretched hand. “Does the coffee shop down the street sound good? It has a nice atmosphere.”

With that, plans were made, items bagged and scanned and goodbyes said. Junhong couldn’t wait to see all of the secrets that this peculiar man could unearth. He spent the remainder of his shift absolutely giddy, and his coworkers wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

As soon as he was off work, Junhong ran to his house. It was in walking distance, as he had never found the need to get a driver’s license, but running seemed so much more appeasing in that moment. Perhaps it was to exhaust the sudden energy that was flowing through his body or to simply get to his apartment faster. Whatever it was, he shaved a whole four minutes off of his normal commute and ended up needing a shower more than he had before. There was still a little over two hours to play around, anyway.

Those two hours didn’t speed by any faster than usual, though. They were as agonizingly slow and lifeless as usual. He’d packed the book in a canvas shoulder bag -- no, it wasn’t a purse -- and was waiting eagerly with still-damp hair for time to move faster. Finally, after ninety minutes of jostling his leg and flipping through channel after channel, Junhong fastened his shoes and headed out. Yongguk would surely be able to give him answers.

The small coffee shop was nestled between two slightly taller buildings across the street from the supermarket. It was noncommercial and family owned, and had every indicator of such a reputation. The coffee beans were ground in house and imported from middle eastern India. Once brewed, they had the wonderful taste that reflected the lively country from which they’d come from. There weren’t any lights on within, and the only source of light came from the moon shining in through the large glass windows. Tables and chairs crowded each side of the little place, making room for a clear path from the door and to the counter. Different coffee decals hung on the walls, assumably to help the ambience. Yongguk looked like he belonged there.

Said man was settled in the far corner of the shop, close to the bathrooms. The hot coffee he held in his hands smelled divine and the worn book that he held in his hand seemed as if he’d read it countless time just to relive the story. He was wearing the same outfit that Junhong had seen him wearing in the supermarket. His legs were crossed in a motion of relaxation and peacefulness. Without a doubt, Yongguk looked as if he was a reincarnation of Buddha himself.

Junhong was much less graceful. He walked into the shop disturbing chairs and tables as he went, waking the drowsy clerk behind the counter and stealing Yongguk’s attention from his book. At the very least, he tried to sit down with some finesse. The bag he had slung across his shoulders was moved to hang on the back of his chair as he tried to mirror and restore the peace that the other seemed to have been maintaining. Sadly, he could only bring back a semblance of it.

“The book,” Junhong gasped, trying to recover from that shameful stunt he’d just accidentally pulled. “I’ve got the book.”

Yongguk put his own book down and leaned over the table just a bit more. He was clearly interested, despite the fact that he said nothing. As Junhong removed the heavy book from his bag and put it on the table, he saw Yongguk’s eyes go wide. It was as if he’d been looking for it all along.

“It doesn’t open anymore.” He informed Yongguk reluctantly as said person slid the book towards him. “Before it opened just fine, but ever since I-” He stopped, not believing his eyes.

The cover of the book lay open, and Junhong watched in awe as Yongguk scanned the contents of the first chapter -- the poem. He seemed to be reading it to himself, as his lips moved in a silent mantra as his eyes moved across the page. There seemed to be no issue in reading it, and it seemed that Yongguk was fluent in the language. Thank God! Someone that could actually tell him what all of those foreign words meant.

“What did you do to this book?” Yongguk looked up at him with the same scrutinizing eyes that the old woman looked at him with and suddenly Junhong felt anxiety twist and turn his stomach. “The rest of these pages, they’re blank. It won’t let me see them.”

“It? You’re talking about it like it’s living.” Junhong laughed, though it was more out of fear than entertainment.

“Not living,” The other corrected, flipping through the next pages after the poem for the third time. “Enchanted. It’s enchanted.”

Junhong had no idea what ‘enchanted’ meant. Of course, he knew the definition of the word, but in this particular conversation the meaning was lost to him. All he could do was furrow his eyebrows and tilt his head in hopes for further explanation. Thankfully, he was provided with one, though it wasn’t the most extensive.

“It doesn’t seem to recognize me as someone who can see within it.” Yongguk seemed distressed by this. “At least, not if I’m the one opening it. You’ve seen the inside, haven’t you? You must know what else it has in it.”

Junhong looked at his hands crossed on the table in embarrassment. “I… I’ve only read to the eighth chapter. And I can’t remember anything past the third.” He waited for Yongguk to talk, but when he looked up his eyes seemed to be urging him to tell more. “You saw the first chapter. It’s all in that language. I think it’s a poem. The second chapter is about the history, and the third chapter is about holding séances and talking with the dead and stuff.” As if following Junhong’s recalling, the pages that Yongguk was flipping through suddenly began writing themselves multiple lines at a time in that same messily done black handwriting. Words, pictures, everything that had been there when he’d read it and Junhong could now remember it all word for word. He was amazed. That was something the book had never done before. Now, even more than before, he was eager to find out what the book had to hide.

“Junhong.” Yongguk’s tone was serious, almost dangerous. “This is something I can’t go on my merry way after seeing.”

“Neither can I,” he laughed in utter disbelief.

“I need this book.” He continued, not even missing a beat. “But I can’t take it without you.”

And there it was before him. The adventure he sought his entire life laid in the calloused palms of Yongguk, the man he’d only just met. Despite his vaguely threatening outward appearance, Yongguk was open and kind. Junhong could tell. So, in spite of those nuns that beat and berated him at the academy and in loving memory of his parents who filled him with wonder and magic, he flung himself blindly into whatever Yongguk had to offer him.

They’d leave for Thailand in three days.