+ + +

Minho steps out of the bar to the rooftop, following Seunghoon’s hand gesture. In front of him, Seoul is as beautiful and cold as ever. It doesn’t snow that night, but he doesn’t miss much. Thousands of tiny sparkling dots of color running from where he stands till the end of space, where they all become parts of the sky, make up for the loss. It is officially Christmas day, and in just two hours, the sun will rise up again. People will come on the street, and they will talk to each other– albeit the conversations are digitalized into binary codes on their computers, tablets, or smartphones. There will be conversations between families, amongst strangers; there will be words of love spoken, as much as there will be fights and separations. And the world isn’t going to be a better place just because people talk to each other. But even if the superpowers of the world are waging wars on borders and lands all over the global south, may us all whose existences are marked as less desirable not hone a war against ourselves.

When Minho holds Seunghoon’s hands tightly and pulled him into a warm hug that afternoon as they say goodbye in front of Seunghoon’s house, he mumbles a thousands of “thank yous” into his ears, to which Seunghoon replies by tightening his fingers on Mino’s back. They hold each other dearly like the closest of friends, like lifetime partners, or just two people finding warmth in strangers’ kindness. Last night, when Minho took the staircases off the rooftop to get out of Nightfall after wishing him a happy holiday, Seunghoon asked Minho if he needed a place to be for the rest of the night. Minho had said, “I needed a place to return to,” and Seunghoon smiled at him, “that’s something you have to make yourself.” Minho had nodded his head and followed Seunghoon, Christmas streetlights above their heads, traffic noises coming from the main streets became more and more fainted as they walked through many dark alleys. And when he finally got there, he realized he had made a full trip back to where he started.

“So you were the one who took over this apartment after Clesias.”

Seunghoon looked at him:

“No. I took it from a guy who shares the same name as I.”

Minho didn’t know whatelse to do but laugh.

I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.

Words! Be
sick as I am sick, swoon,
roll back your eyes, a pool,

and I’ll stare down
at my wounded beauty
which at best is only a talent
for poetry.

End.