Do Kyungsoo was going through the busiest and most hectic part of the year at work. His job as a webtoon artist was not easy on a daily basis, but some periods were worse than others, especially considering that he was beginning to rise amongst the well-known artists of South Korea. At only twenty-four years old, he was proud to say that he was part of the “Featured Digital Comic Artists” on LINE, as he had already published two acclaimed webtoons on the platform, and was currently working on his third. In the few minutes after uploading the latest chapter, the number of clicks was already hitting the impressive amount of hundreds of thousands. Every few chapters were gathered into a physical copy, then displayed in the windows of book stores around the country, and each time the comic books sold like hot cakes. The artist was invited to nationwide book store chains for signing events, however he always made sure to choose a few smaller local book stores situated in rural areas in order to please everyone. He liked small events the most because he was be able to talk to some of his fans. They told him about their favourite scenes, about what they enjoyed or didn't enjoy, and brought him gifts.

Kyungsoo enjoyed writing psychological thrillers the most, but he had to throw some romance here and there once in a while in order to reach a wider audience and get more views, as his publisher liked repeating. Kyungsoo found it frustrating not to be able to develop his storyline as he wished, but he was still glad to be given carte blanche for most of the other aspects. It was amazing how he had started with simple doodles in the margins of his school's notebooks during boring endless lessons, equipped only with his chewed pencil and dirty rubber, free of any worry, and was now having to deal with the pressure of meeting deadlines and pleasing expectant readers. Of course, he had better material now, which easily increased his productivity: he had learnt how to use a graphics tablet, and his publisher had hired two assistants to help him correct his mistakes, colour the most tricky parts, and take care of the backgrounds. However, the life of a webtoon artist wasn't peaceful at all. In fact, more often than not, Kyungsoo had to go to the pharmacy to get his prescribed anxiety medication. He had once undergone a burn out, as they called it, at the time of his previous comic, due to countless sleepless nights spent drawing without a break. Today was by far the most stressful day as he was nearing the final chapter of his third webtoon: he hadn't slept the night before, as a result the dark circles under his eyes were more obvious than usual. Indeed, he had gotten roughly fifteen hours of sleep for the whole week, and hadn't seen his family nor boyfriend or friends in a month. His studio had become his sleeping and living place, where he was surviving off instant Shin Ramyuns and warm tap water. His head was hurting, his back and bottom were sore from remaining seated for the majority of the day, save for the rare bathroom breaks. His assistants looked as worn out as he did, although Kyungsoo did his best to send them home whenever possible, but this only delayed their work and increased the artist's distress.

After failing for the eighth time to keep his eyes open, dozing off and bumping his head on the screen of his expensive tablet in the process, Kyungsoo finally had had enough. He threw down his stylus, and banged his fist on his desk with great strength, making the pens and other light utensils twitch on the varnished wood.

“I can't do this any more!” he yelled, as he sprang up to his feet.

He opened the door of his personal working room with a determined expression, staring at his startled co-workers. He probably looked like he had gone completely mad, with his wide eyes and dishevelled hair.

“I'm going home,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for protest although he felt like collapsing right there and then.

His assistants started whispering to each other in hushed voices about how there were only five days left before the deadline, and how they weren't ahead of time in their work, but Kyungsoo paid them no mind. He gathered his phone and keys, threw his coat and hat on since it was nearing February, and yanked the door open. He rushed down the stair, his feet leading him to his car mechanically. It was as if he were on auto-pilot mode, his body functioning solely on adrenaline, he knew that if he stopped now he wouldn't make it to his house.

The raven-haired man climbed into his car, shivering after braving the harsh snow and freezing wind. Suddenly awake because of the cold, he drove to the fortunately empty apartment where his lover and he had moved in together two years ago. He abandoned his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor with no ceremony and went straight under the relaxing warm water of his shower. He hadn't been able to wash himself thoroughly at the studio, and therefore felt immensely refreshed and much more comfortable as he put on clean pants and a woollen jumper. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Kyungsoo dragged his small travelling bag from under his bed and threw in his toothbrush and some clothes to change. He shoved his wallet into his pocket, grabbed two boxes of Lotte's Kancho Choco Biscuits, picked up his coat and hat, and headed to his door. After he slammed it close, Kyungsoo fumbled with his keys for a moment, his fingers already numbed by the cold air of the corridor, then hurriedly double locked the door. Still in a dazed-like state, he drove to Seoul's train station, where he purchased a one-way ticket for the next train to Pohang, a seaside city in the South-East where he used to spend a few weeks of his summer holidays with his parents as a young teenager. He scarcely had to sit on the bench of the platform for two minutes before he heard the rumbling of the approaching train. He stood up with his bag on his shoulder, along with a few rare awaiting strangers, and boarded on the train. It was 2:39 pm when the train left 서울역, Seoul's largest train station. The moment he sat on his attributed seat, he was hit by a wave of exhaustion and fell asleep almost instantly, his head crashing not-so-gently against the window with a thud. Kyungsoo slept through the entirety of the ride from Seoul to Pohang, which was a four-hours train ride. It wasn't much, but it was still more than his daily average of hours of sleep in the last week. Thankfully, his destination was the terminus, or else he would have most-likely missed his stop, as his slumber was so deep. He rose with a jerk when somebody tapped him on the shoulder.

“Sir, you have to get off, all the other passengers have left, and the train has to be cleaned,” informed a petite train hostess with a gentle gaze.

Kyungsoo held back a yawn and apologised, immediately standing up to get off the train. The icy wind finished waking him up as he walked towards the exit. At least it wasn't snowing, here. Annoyed by the constant buzzing of his phone, he finally switched it off without bothering to check the ID of the caller. He knew that it was either his assistants, his publisher, or his boyfriend, and he was in no mood to talk to any of them about his whereabouts at the moment. He passed by the cemetery and the industrial area, then kept walking until he reached a familiar large street. Kyungsoo halted, rosy cheeks and parted lips, as he took a moment to remember a scene he used to witness every summer for about six years. His surroundings were familiar and yet foreign: this was due, on one hand, to the fact that the city had transformed over the years, with new buildings, shops closing, others opening, and on the other hand, to the realisation that he had never seen the town during any other season than the bright summer, and was now staring at it with the dull colours of winter. He was however struck by the instant soothing effect the familiar streets had on his nerves. He found himself looking around with deep melancholia as blurry memories streamed past his mind. He could almost imagine the main street, busy as ever, full of yelling trinkets merchants and barefoot running kids in their swimsuits, warm breeze twirling around sweating bodies under the blazing sun. Now the streets were quiet and still, with no living soul in sight, but Kyungsoo felt oddly at peace, as if he belonged there. The town was animated during summer, but it lost at least three quarters of its inhabitants in the colder days as it mostly relied on tourism to subsist. He crossed the street, his hands safely stuffed in his pocket as he turned left to take a narrow dirt road. He had sworn earlier upon realising that he had forgotten his precious gloves at home. The road led him away from the accommodations, the path surrounded by frozen reeds taller than the artist. His feet bumped into small rocks a few times, and he almost stumbled over once, catching himself at the last moment. He pushed aside a bush of brambles that were blocking the path, and discovered the place he had been seeking for. Although there were no couples napping on their towel, no sandcastle, and no ice cream shack, Kyungsoo felt a pang of nostalgia hit him hard in the chest as he recognised the beach of his childhood. There were a few brave seagulls hovering above his head, and he closed his eyes to take in the salty smell of the water, the feeling of small grains of sand carried by the wind, and the regular rocking sound of the waves. Staring at the agitated waters, Kyungsoo dumped his heavy bag on the sand, and closed the remaining distance between himself and the East Sea, not bothering to take off his shoes. He could already feel sand and salt water infiltrating his boots, but he couldn't care less at this instant. He felt marvellously great as he opened his arms widely, with his head directed at the cloudy grey sky. He felt joyful, free, and invincible. He stepped back to sit on the thin white sand to admire the landscape. The sun was beginning to set, as it was nearing seven in the afternoon. Kyungsoo sat there for long minutes, enjoying the scenery while eating his chocolate-flavoured snacks, until the sun had completely disappeared behind the horizon. Then he stood up, brushed the sand from his pants, and turned around with the intent of going back to the path, guided by the soft twilight glow. However, as he looked for his footsteps as a reference point, he found not one, but two pairs of feet marked in the wet sand. Startled, he glanced around himself, but couldn't find anyone in the near periphery. What was even odder was the fact that both sets of footsteps stopped in front of Kyungsoo, but he was alone. He repressed an uneasy chill, and managed to get back on the dirt road staring straight ahead because he was too scared to look back. Kyungsoo tried to push that bizarre phenomenon at the back of his head, and focused on finding a hotel with available rooms at this hour. In the end, he found himself registering in a small inn with an old flickering neon sign. The corridors were silent as the establishment was more than half-empty at this time of the year, but Kyungsoo thought that was better this way. Although his face wasn't that well-know, he didn't want to risk being recognised by eager tourists. He turned the key labelled “Room 11”, and pushed the door open. As expected the room wasn't large, Kyungsoo barely had any space to walk between the wall and the bed, and the bathroom was only separated from the room by an opaque sliding glass.

“Well, it's a good thing I wasn't planning on staying here on holidays,” he muttered, sitting on the bed and getting rid of his bag.

The webtoon artist could still feel several signs of fatigue, and the mattress, as small and hard as it was, seemed like the most comfy place he could be lying on. He managed to get out of his clothes before slipping under the sheets, falling into the arms of Morpheus in no time.

The next day, Kyungsoo woke up quite late. He felt immensely better now that he had rested, although he realised that he had missed breakfast, and that lunch hours were almost over. Shrugging, he stretched with a yawn, then slowly proceeded to get out of bed, putting down one leg after the other. He went through his morning routine in just a few minutes (it was simple, really, all he had to do was take a shower, comb his hair and brush his teeth, since he wasn't a fan of applying multiple layers of supposedly skin care creams, contrary to his girl friends and even his boyfriend). He dressed warmly, tightly wrapping his scarf around his neck, and left his extra clothes on the bed since he had booked the room for two more nights. He left the inn and bought a large bagel with veggies and pork to satisfy his famished tummy. He munched on it as he strolled through the streets, his hat abandoned and his scarf hanging down on both sides of his neck because the day wasn't as cold as he thought. He walked aimlessly for a few minutes, eating his lunch with his eyes looking around curiously. Kyungsoo suddenly halted when he realised where his feet had instinctively taken him. He was standing before two similar-looking houses: one was a fading blue, the other a discolouring yellow, both had a balcony with sculpted railings, as well as a small flower garden. Kyungsoo could see children's toys lying outside the lawn of the left house (the blue one), and a kennel on the other one. With a pained gaze, he remained standing in the middle of the road, staring at the twin houses. His breath stuck in his throat as memories flooded through his mind, short flashes mixing with longer and more detailed ones. His chest hurt, and he couldn't refrain the tears that quickly welled in his eyes because of the reminder of how much he truly missed him. Him. The boy next door. His best friend, and probably his first-love, Kim Jongin. Kyungsoo found a place to sit on a low wall across the street where he had a good view of the houses and could deal with his emotions peacefully. After his grandmother had bequeathed the property to her eldest son, Kyungsoo's uncle, who had sold it without hesitation. He hadn't been able to go back ever since. He was seventeen at the time, but the memories were still fresh in his mind. Kyungsoo figured that the blue house had been sold as well, since he knew the Kim didn't want to have another child after Jongin, because they were afraid he would end up with the same illness. Jongin had a weak immune system that had forced him to stay confined for his entire life. Children usually didn't live long, and had to stay in special rooms in the hospital. Jongin, however, seemed to have a stronger resistance, thus why his parents had been able to bring him home. Seven years ago, they had gotten into a big fight and they had lost contact for several years.

Until he received a phone call during his second year of university. That day, he had lost a part of himself. That day, he had learnt that Jongin had died the year following their fight, when Kyungsoo had been in his last year of high school. He remembered how much he had cried as he listened to Jongin's mom's soothing words.

“I'm sorry, Kyungsoo...” She had apologised, crying as well. “He made us promise not to tell you anything... He... He didn't want to hurt you, but... You have the right to know.”

All he could do was sob uncontrollably as he thought about Jongin's warm smile, Jongin's gentle eyes, Jongin, Jongin, Jongin. Jongin who he hadn't talked to in three years, Jongin who he had never told he had been in love with him back when he was twelve years old and he didn't know that liking another boy was okay. His mother had called him on the day of his second death anniversary, December 27^th. Jongin would have been seventeen in a few days, if he had survived.

“You know...” She had continued. “We thought that he wouldn't live to see ten years old. But he did, and... We were so happy...! After that, he kept growing older, and older, although he got seriously sick sometimes, he would always recover.” She half-laughed, half-sobbed as she thought about her brave son. “He fought, you know. He didn't want to die, and... I think that was because of you.”

Kyungsoo had had to bite on his hand to muffle his cries, or else he wouldn't have been able to hear her clearly.

“Thanks to you he lived for more than sixteen years, which is truly amazing... We're thankful for all the time he got to spend with you, you have no idea how much you helped him cope with his condition...” She sniffled loudly. “We were afraid that he would go insane, being shut in twenty-four seven. But you came to see him every day, telling him stories about the world, about yourself... That's all he needed.”

Kyungsoo was shaking his head madly, feeling more guilty than he had ever felt in his entire life. He couldn't help but think Jongin's death was his fault. What if he died because of their argument? Would he still be alive if they hadn't fought that day? If Kyungsoo hadn't hurt him, and realised sooner that all along Jongin had been in love with him?

“Thank you, Kyungsoo,” she repeated. “I could never say that enough times...”

All Kyungsoo wanted to say was that she shouldn't thank him, that he had killed Jongin involuntarily, but he couldn't speak. After that, she had hung up, leaving Kyungsoo to cry on his own. The months after that were by far the worst of his life. He had become depressed, started slacking off on his university work, and lost a lot of friends in the process. He owed his recovery to his current publisher, who found some of his drawings online, and offered him a job. That is why the two of them have a special relationship. His publisher was well-known for scouting original talents, and although he was strict sometimes, he treated the artists of his agency as if they were all part of a huge family. In a way, the webtoon artist considered that his passion saved him. During hard times, he thought about Jongin's praises of his drawings. His best friend, although no longer part of the living world, helped him carry on his life. Kyungsoo was drawing for himself, for his readers, but most importantly, he was drawing for Jongin, whom he knew was watching him from wherever he was. Sometimes he felt like he could feel him hovering above his shoulder, watching him draw. Every single comic book published contained a special message addressed to Jongin on the first page. Each message was unique and personal, and Kyungsoo didn't care that he was writing them for the world to see, because he knew that most people didn't read the notes.

Kyungsoo sat on the wall, staring at the blue house. He kept watching as the door opened and a small child wrapped up in several layers of clothings sprung out of the house, nodding obediently as his mother told him not to stay out too long. Kyungsoo stared longingly as the tiny boy headed to the yellow house. He only had to knock twice before another boy opened the door, dressed in the same fashion and holding a leash with an eager puppy bouncing at the end of it. Together they left, probably going for a walk around the neighbourhood. Kyungsoo wondered how it would have been if he had been able to go out with Jongin, wander in the streets, swim in the sea, play in the sand, or eat candies in his room. He could even have invited Jongin to sleep over. However, things hadn't turned out that way. With a sigh, he stood up, wiped his damp cheeks, brushed his coat, and swallowed the last bite of his bagel before throwing the paper towel into a bin on the side of the street. He turned away from the houses and headed in the direction of the path he used to always take as a child to go to the beach. There were weeds growing on the sides, because the place wasn't well-maintained during winter. Quickly, Kyungsoo was walking on the sand with his still somewhat wet shoes from his late escapade the previous night. His steps were silent in the soft sand, they became more noticeable as he approached the shore, where the moist sand was situated. Kyungsoo found a slightly less wet spot to put his bag down, and then began to take off his coat, which he spread on the sand. He took off his shoes and socks, before rolling the edge of his pants up. He approached the water carefully, knowing that in this season the temperature was likely to be freezing. Kyungsoo stretched his right leg towards the water, and dipped his tippy toes into the water.

“Cold!” he gasped, surprised although he had anticipated it.

Not feeling brave enough to soak his entire foot, he stood staring at the horizon, making sure the waves couldn't reach him. He stood there thinking for several minutes, before he started feeling inexplicably uncomfortable, as if he felt eyes on him, but when he turned around, there was no one. A draught swirled around him and he shivered, only noticing the second pair of footsteps next to his own. The hair at the back of his neck stood up, and he was suddenly struck by an eerie feeling.

“Who's there?” He called. No one but the wind answered him.

He felt that draught again, only it didn't feel like a usual blow of wind, this one seemed to have a mind of its own. Kyungsoo felt like this wind was intelligent, it was graceful and consistent, as if he would be able to grasp it if he wanted. He closed his eyes, and it brushed against his cheek gently, then tickled his ears. The man was torn between panic and calmness, he felt like he should be afraid of that strange phenomenon, but he also felt like it was ridiculous to be frightened of it, because... he knew him. Once that thought struck him, he shook his head and pushed where he could feel the twirl of air.

“I've gone mad, oh my god,” he breathed as he noticed that footsteps had appeared in the direction of his push, and at the end, a mark that looked like those left by someone who would have fallen on his bottom.

Kyungsoo watched with wide eyes as the invisible swirl of air began to become more noticeable, gaining colours and consistency. It took the form of a long cloud of colourful smoke on the ground, and the man stared with a scream stuck in his throat as the cloud morphed into a human shape. Kyungsoo was frozen in place, the figure on the ground was familiar, and yet foreign. It was looking at itself open-mouthed and confused, then raised its head to look at Kyungsoo.

“C-Can you...” it cleared its throat. “Can you see me?” The creature asked with hesitance.

Kyungsoo was gaping at it, no, him, with bulging eyes ready to pop out.

“Impossible, y-you can't...!” he whispered disbelievingly.

But there was Jongin lying on the ground. Although he had changed, there was no doubt about his identity. He looked older, probably as he would have looked today at twenty-three if he hadn't died at sixteen. His skin wasn't sickly white as Kyungsoo had known it to be, it was actually quite tan. He was wearing worn-out jeans and a plain maroon tee-shirt, and even lying at his feet Kyungsoo could tell that he was taller than sixteen year-old Jongin.

“Kyungsoo... you're here...” Jongin was looking at him with longing eyes, as if he had been waiting for him to come back here since his death. Perhaps he had.

“No, you're dead. You're dead!” he shouted as he took a step back, refusing to believe his eyes.

Jongin's face displayed his hurt at Kyungsoo's words. “I know that...” He slowly got back to his feet and brushed the sand of his clothes. “I've been waiting for you.”

“But, you... How?” He was frowning, his bottom lip quivering. “How can you be here... out there?”

“I'm not sure myself... but I've read stories about the soul of defuncts unable to depart from this world because they had something to accomplish here,” the other tried to rationalise. “Maybe this is it?”

Kyungsoo couldn't make out the sounds coming from his mouth, too busy staring at his lost friend. Carefully, he began to slowly walk towards him, until they were only centimetres apart. Kyungsoo reached up with his hand, and softly put his hand on Jongin's cheek. He had expected it to go through him, but his touch was met with warm smooth skin. He gasped and his owlish eyes filled with tears.

“Y-You're real!” he exclaimed. “I can touch you!”

Once the realisation hit him, he threw himself at the younger man and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into the crook of his neck. He felt arms wrap around himself hesitantly as he sobbed his heart out. All the feelings that had built-up the years after his friend's death were coming out, Kyungsoo was completely overwhelmed with sorrow. Jongin wasn't in the best state himself, after waiting so many years for his friend to come back, wandering around town as a lifeless spirit in the meantime. His eyes were closed, shedding silent tears as he held the smaller close to his chest. His hands were grasping the fabric of Kyungsoo's dark sweater tightly, feeling overly aware of his surroundings. Jongin had never felt the wind, nor the sand on his feet. He had never been able to experience the salty smell of the sea, nor the sweet smell of Kyungsoo's skin. His crying intensified upon realising it was his first time truly hugging someone, without the barrier of a sterilised suit. It felt surreal to be touching the boy, no, the man he had loved since he was a child, after he spent so many days and nights dreaming about such a day. His daydreams had seemed irrational at the time, because of his illness. However, this time... his dearest wish had come true.

“Kyungsoo, hyung, Kyungsoo-hyung...” he chanted like a mantra, sniffling rather loudly.

He couldn't keep his hands still, one moment they were holding his waist, the next they were tangled in his best friend's hair, then caressing his cheeks softly, lovingly. The two boys stood hugging each other for minutes, maybe hours, two lone figures on an empty beach. After Kyungsoo decided that he was in a well-enough state to speak coherently, they both sat on his coat. Jongin had taken hold of Kyungsoo's hand somewhere during the embrace, never letting go. His surprisingly warm thumb was brushing the artist's pale skin in circles. Jongin suddenly grimaced as he felt fingers pinch his forearm really hard, leaving a red mark on the skin.

“That's for making your mom promise not to tell me anything about... you know. ,” Kyungsoo glared at him, before adding in a soft whisper: “You've changed so much...”

“And you haven't,” Jongin gave him a dazzling smile.

“I must be dreaming,” he laughed in a disbelieving way, keeping an eye on their intertwined hands. “You look older, and healthier...” Handsome, he added in his head. “Is this what you would have looked like if you hadn't been sick?”

“I guess...” Jongin replied, not too sure himself. It was his first time taking a material appearance since he had left his body in his bedchamber.

“Jongin, I... there's so much I have to tell you,” Kyungsoo didn't know where to begin. He stared into his friend's eyes and saw such an incommensurable affection that he remained speechless, taken aback.

“I'm sorry, Kyungsoo-hyung. For yelling at you that time...” he truly looked apologetic, his head hung down in shame. “I was unable to think straight, because... because I loved you so much, and knowing that you had done... that, with another person... It hurt so much! I was furious, and I shouldn't have been. I had no right to say the things I said. I didn't believe them, I swear!” Jongin now had a wild look in his eyes, seeking for forgiveness.

Kyungsoo smiled at him warmly, if not a little sadly. “I know, Jongin... That was my fault for not realising sooner that you felt this way, I should be the one apologising...”

Jongin squeezed his hand, and sighed. “Forget about it.” He was worriedly looking from side to side, as if expecting something to appear out of the blue.

“What's wrong?” Kyungsoo enquired, eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you what had been bothering me all these years, so why am I not disappearing?” he wondered aloud, genuinely confused.

“Maybe there's something else?” he suggested with a hint of hope in his voice. He didn't want to part with him so soon after getting him back.

“I don't know...” he was frowning. “But I'm glad. I wanted to ask how you've been, and what you've become...”

“I work as a webtoon artist, quite a well-known one at that,” Kyungsoo announced with pride. He had always wanted his best friend to be proud of him fulfilling his dream.

“You're so talented, hyung, I knew you would become famous!” Jongin grinned, almost jumping onto friend to hug him. He loved this newfound skinship, and all he wished was to keep touching, touching, and touching.

Kyungsoo's heart jumped at his words, and a warm feeling spread in his stomach. “Thank you...” he blushed unknowingly. “You telling me that... It means a lot. I draw for you, you know. You were the one who encouraged me the most, who pushed me to pursue a career in drawing.”

“Does that mean that I'm your inspiration? Your muse?” he teased as he let go of him, and the other rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo admitted nonetheless. “Yes, you are. Thinking about you helps me go through the most intense periods of my work.”

“What are you doing here, hyung? Why did it take you so long to come back?” Jongin asked softly, not wanting to come out as accusing.

“I...” the artist looked down. “I needed to get my mind off of work. And I guess I... wasn't ready before. I thought it would be unbearable to be here, and honestly, at the beginning it was. But now that you're here... It's strange. I feel safe, at peace,” he shared honestly.

“Kyungsoo, can I... can I kiss you? Just once,” Jongin requested shyly. “I just... I've never kissed anyone, you know? This might be my only opportunity, and... you're the only one that I've ever loved, that I still love.”

Kyungsoo couldn't have denied Jongin's request even if he had wanted to. The blooming love that had been buried deeply inside of him when he was younger was starting to come forwards once again. He didn't want to regret not indulging in those feelings later on, he didn't want to be assaulted by missed opportunities and remorse. So what if he had a boyfriend? At the moment it was just Kyungsoo and Jongin, Jongin and Kyungsoo. The latter brushed his hand against the other's cheek, feeling the smooth skin. Jongin closed his eyes, enjoying the touch and shivering from the sensation. Even as his view was blocked, he could hear Kyungsoo's breath coming closer and closer, until he could feel it tickling his philtrum. Then, the wind stopped blowing altogether, the waves halted their movement, the seagulls hushed, and Jongin stopped breathing. As the pair of full lips came in contact with his own, Jongin thought that the many depictions he had read in his books were accurate. Kyungsoo's lips weren't soft and smooth as Jongin had fantasised them, instead they were somewhat chapped because of the cold, but that fact didn't bother Jongin the slightest. The kiss was already perfect, but when Kyungsoo shifted his hand to the back of his neck and moved his lips against his, Jongin thought: Wow, that's mind-blowing. He tried his best to reciprocate, imitating the other's actions, because he had learnt in his reading that a kiss was only enjoyable if both party participated. Soon, he felt something wet poke at his lips, and he let out a surprised whimper. Kyungsoo used the opportunity to slip the tip of his tongue inside his mouth only for a second.

“Is that okay?” he enquired, staring straight into Jongin's half-lidded eyes.

“Yes,” he breathed and boldly grabbed Kyungsoo's face to kiss him again.

This time the other didn't hesitate to slip his tongue into his mouth, and Jongin sighed into the kiss. His brain was slowly turning to jelly because of every new sensation he was experiencing. The two of them shared several kisses until they were breathless and couldn't do anything but look at each other. Jongin thought he had caught a glimpse of something familiar in the elder's eyes, however he couldn't be sure. Maybe he was only seeing the reflection of his own feelings in those beautiful round eyes.

“Are you happy now that you can see the waves?” Kyungsoo whispered softly. “I remember that you've always wanted to go to the beach...”

Jongin wanted to tell him that seeing the waves was nothing compared to kissing him, but his voice was stuck in his throat. His love for Kyungsoo was taking over his body, his chest felt like it was going to burst. He didn't know how to voice what he was feeling because, frustratingly, he felt like no word was strong enough to stay faithful to the depth of his emotions. It seemed language was failing him, betraying the truth of his love. In the years he had been waiting for Kyungsoo, although he had lived as an immaterial soul, his feelings had continued to grow in anticipation of their next meeting. Therefore, he relied on his physical senses to make sure the other man could feel just how much he meant to him, especially his touch and the inflection of his voice. Kyungsoo, still awaiting an answer, gasped when a pair of eager lips claimed his own, but was soon reciprocating. Jongin sighed into the kiss as their tongues met and engaged in a sensual dance of their own. After that, everything followed naturally. Kyungsoo found himself bending over Jongin, the youngest lying on his coat acting as a protection from the sand. They were gazing into each other's eyes, lost in an ocean of unsaid feelings. That day, the lazy waves were the sole witness of their love, keeping their heartfelt moans and stolen kisses a secret from the rest of the world. Sweaty and breathing heavily, Kyungsoo rested his forehead against Jongin's, his right hands intertwined with his lover's left one. They remained in that position for what felt like mere seconds, before Kyungsoo noticed the colours fading from Jongin's skin.

“J-Jongin, your skin!” he stuttered, alarmed. The green of his coat was starting to appear under him, yet Jongin was smiling peacefully.

“It's alright, hyung,” he assured him. “I'm leaving now, but don't cry,” he interjected when he noticed the tears gathering in his dear friend's eyes. “I'll remember that day as one of the happiest of my life, and I want you to do the same. Can you promise me?”

“Y-Yes, but... I don't want you to leave me, n-not again...” Kyungsoo sniffled, his expression heartbroken.

“I am not leaving you,” Jongin smiled, caressing his cheek. His touch was already a mere fleeting memory. “I'll be right next to you, making sure you're keeping your promise.”

“You better,” he threatened unconvincingly, struggling to contain his tears. Kyungsoo closed his eyes, surrendering to the touch.

“I promise...” his voice was a whisper, almost unnoticeable.

When Kyungsoo's eyelids fluttered open, Jongin was gone. He had vanished, leaving him alone, flustered and in the coldness of the wind. He felt dizzy, as if he had just awaken from a dream, but he knew that the warmness lingering on his lips was real. Slowly, he gathered his discarded clothes and put them on. As he did so, the wind seemed to calm down, and Kyungsoo could have sworn he heard it whisper three words to him. I love you... Drying his tears, he smiled in the direction of the sea and mouthed: Goodbye...

Kyungsoo grinned as he leapt out of his seat.

“We're done!” he yelled, bursting into his assistants' room. “I've sent the final page!”

His announcement was greeted with loud cheers. It had been exactly two months since his little escapade to Pohang. Since his return to Seoul, he has been working diligently on the last few chapters of his third webtoon (after his publisher had scolded him for disappearing without notice), and finally today, he was done perfecting the dénouement. All he needed was to wait for his publisher to approve of the chapter before being able to post it online, but he knew that he wouldn't have to change anything to the ending. Indeed, his imagination had been going haywire since his return, and he couldn't stop adding small last-minute unexpected turns of events in his plot-line. He even had the basic outline of his next webtoon, with quite a few plot twists and innovative ideas included. He treated his assistants and his boyfriend to dinner that evening, in order to celebrate the end of a full year of struggles. His webtoon was sure to be a best-seller in the book stores of South Korea, that fact deserve a bottle of champagne around a nice table. As always, he had included a message to Jongin, however this time he had placed it at the end, to symbolise the end of a long series. As he had sworn to Jongin, he hadn't cried since that day on the beach, and he intended to keep his promise for much longer. It wasn't as hard as he had thought it would be, he felt less miserable now that they had reconciled. He could stop dwelling in the past, and move on with his life. He could think about Jongin without hurting, and he was able to fully love his boyfriend without having someone else in mind, despite the secret he shared with the sea. In short, although it had taken a while and a lot of efforts, he could finally assert that he was happy with his life.

To the boy of the blue house,

Mon amour d'été,

Who grew up to be the man on the beach,

Like a ghost,

As gentle as a warm summer breeze,

I hope you are well.

I am.

Author's note: thank you for reading! Don't forget that comments are appreciated. I would like to know what you thought of the story. Was it too short? Were there many mistakes? I hope to see you soon with another story!