The night seems endless.

Her darkness has loomed over the land for many hours now,
And, in her presence, I feel a sense of confidence.

I am invisible to all human eyes.

No one can see the servant of the streets walking slowly down the corridors that haunt his consciousness.

He feels at home on the streets,
For the streets are all he's ever known.
But it is the others - the onlookers, the spectators - who make him feel like an outcast
Even in the place of his birth:

His birth into a man,
If that's what you call it.
 

And so he thanks the nighttime for her cover and makes his way to the run down corner drug store
Where the old man labors happily.

"What will it be, son?" the elder asks cheerfully despite the fact that tears are streaming down his cheeks,
Each one reflecting the dim lights of the store beautifully.

"I'm looking for a first aid kit, sir. Do you have any at your disposal?"

Less than an half an hour ago, Kibum fainted.
The phone call from his step-mother had shaken him so much
That he could not eat, could not move, could not stop crying for the entire duration of the day,
And, finally, twenty minutes before midnight, the poor boy collapsed
And hit his head on the floor.

A small gash had made its appearance on his flawless skin,
And I thought it best to treat the wound.
But I could not find any gauze or ointment in the apartment,
So I decided to go out and buy some myself.
 

"Of course, son," the man says as he rises from his stool behind the counter and goes in search of my request.
 

I can't help but admire the man's humility.
His clothes are simple and there is a glimmer in his eyes
That even the most haughty of golden heirlooms would envy.

As I watch the man stoop down to collect the first aid kit,
I can't help but think of my father.

If only my father was half the man this man is...
Maybe things would have turned out differently.

Maybe I would have been attending a prestigious university,
Setting my sights on a profitable career.

Maybe I would have known the feeling of true, sacrificial love.
Or, maybe, I would have known, truly known, what it means to be a man.
But fate did not wish for me to know these things.

And so I envy the old man with the glimmer in his eyes,
For I know in looking in the old man's eyes that he knows these things.

And I long for just a hint of his knowledge.
 

After paying for the first aid kit, I make my way back to the apartment -
Alone.
 

As I walk, I start to feel guilty for leaving Kibum by himself.

'What if he wakes up and finds me gone?
What will he do then?
Will he call the police...
Or will he take matters into his own hands and engage in a private search and rescue mission?
Or...will he...not care that I have vanished without a trace.
Will he be glad to be rid of my presence?

Nonsense, Jonghyun.
He was the one who invited you to stay with him.
He is obviously comfortable in your presence.

But...
It could be that you are imagining things.
It wouldn't be the first time...
 

Stop thinking these things, Jonghyun!
Stop being so selfish!

He is the one who is need of attention right now, not you.
So stop your self pitying and speed up;
You have a patient to whom you must attend.'


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"What are you doing here...
Minho?"

Minho scans the room skeptically for a few seconds and then approaches me.
 

"Whoa now, son. You shouldn't get too close to him..."

"It's alright, chief. He and I know each other very well."

And with these words, Minho pushes past the chief and his men
And does not stop until he is standing at my side.
He then leans his body so that his mouth is positioned dangerously close to my ear and whispers:

"I'm making sure that you're going to tell 'the truth.'"

"The truth?" I whisper back to him sourly, "Of course I'm not going to tell the truth. If I was going to tell the truth, I would place just as much blame on you as I would place on myself."

"Ah, did you forget our conversation already, Jonghyun? It was you who..."

"I know what you're going to say, Minho, and I don't want to hear it. You're just like your mother, do you know that?

You'll say anything to get people to yield to your every whim - but I have news for you, Minho.

I won't be your puppet anymore. I'm going to tell them the truth - the legitimate truth."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jonghyun," Minho asserts as he grabs my wrist, "For, you see, I anticipated your refusal to cooperate. And so, I've taken the liberty to settle a deal with some, shall I say, desperate counterparts.

To be brief, if you squeal, your mother gets a bullet to the head. Am I making myself clear?"

 

"You wouldn't do that..."

"Try me. I dare you."


"You...you wouldn't...kill her..."

"Oh, excuse me, I thought you didn't care about your mother. I thought you left her and all memories of her behind after you exchanged your 'posh' lifestyle for a life on the streets..."


"Minho... shut up. Just...shut up."

 

He wouldn't...
He couldn't...
Not my mother.

She is cruel,
And she is heartless,
But she doesn't deserve such a brutal fate.

I can't let another person die...
I can't kill another person.

I can't have more blood on my hands...
I can't let him do this.

 

"So, what's it gonna be, Jonghyun?"


"Alright, Minho," I hiss violently into his ear, "I'll play your little game. I'll let you off the hook and, much to your delight, I'll do it with utter disgust and shame.

But let me tell you something, Minho. Don't think even for a second that I'm doing this for you or for your of a mother. I'm doing this for my mother.

I used to think that she was the fowlest of females; I thought that...until I met your mother. My mother seems like a sculpted angel compared to your hag of a mother.

So don't think that your cunning words are the source of your success, because they aren't.

I see right through your mask, Minho. So take it off now; there's no use in wearing it anymore.

You're going to get what you want."


Minho chuckles his maniacal chuckle, releases my wrist from his grasp, and whispers even softer:

"I always get what I want.
Pleasure doing business with you, Jonghyun."

And with that, Minho walks past the chief and his men, and leaves,
With his mask in his hand and the visage of victory before him.

 

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"Hold still, Kibum," I say as I take his limp body in my right arm and begin to dab his wound with my left hand.

I find this to be sick humor;
He is still unconscious,
So, naturally, he is holding still -
Or so I think.
 

The moment the cotton pad with the hydrogen peroxide solution touches his open sore, he jolts to life in my arms.

His eyes are wide open,
His breathing is fast,
And sweat begins to drip from his hairline.

"Dammit, Jonghyun, that sings!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but...this has to be done."

"What happened to me, Jonghyun?"

"You fainted, Kibum."

"Figures. That would happen to me."

"Hey, it happens to everyone. Just relax."

As I secure a large bandage safely on his forehead, he sighs a loud, sullen sigh.

"Is something wrong, Kibum?"

"No...well...yeah. Yeah...something's wrong.

...Why are people so judgmental, Jonghyun?"


"What do you mean, Kibum?"


"I mean...what if...
What if I break the rules of society? What if I'm...different from what people expect me to be?
What will they do to me?

I'll tell you what they'll do -
They'll deem me as unworthy, unacceptable, unassociable.
 

Why are people like that, Jonghyun?
Why can't they just accept others?
Why can't they accept me for who I am?"

 

"I...I don't think I understand, Kibum..."


He places his hand on the side of my cheek.
He looks deeply into my eyes with his all-knowing and all-understanding gaze.
He then moves his body closer to mine
And puts his face within close range of my own.


"Kibum...what are you...?"

"I...I...I just want to...try something..."

 

He moves his face closer to mine until his nose is rubbing against my own
In the same way my mother's nose rubbed against mine
The day she told me that Daddy was never coming back.

And, suddenly, the close contact becomes too much for my heart to bear,
And I start to shake profusely.

 

"Jonghyun...relax..."

"I...I can't..."
 

"Please, Jonghyun...just once..."

"No, Kibum...no..."

 

I can't help myself.
I fling Kibum away from me
And bring my knees up to my chest.

I feel so...insecure...
So...invaded...

 

"What...Jonghyun...why...?"

"I...I..."

"It's her again, isn't it? Your mother."

"How...how did you...?"
 

"Because it's always her, Jonghyun. I understand that it was difficult for you to leave her, and I understand that her words were difficult for you to hear, but come on, Jonghyun.

It's been nine years.

It's time to move on.

...It's for the best."


"I...I can't..."


"Yes you can, Jonghyun. Just...just let me help you," he says as he slides next to me
And gently places his hand on top of mine.

 

"...Okay...okay.

Kibum...why are you...so...close?"

 

"I...I like being close to you, Jonghyun."

 

"I like being close to you too, Kibum."

"Jonghyun...

I have to...I have to do something."

"Anything, Kibum."

And after I speak these words,
He leans his body into mine,
And softly presses his lips against my own.

 

In this moment, I feel serene -
I feel consoled -
I feel inspired -
I feel enlightened.

 

He slowly takes his lips away from mine,
And with their absence comes a flood of emotions:
Confusion -
Anxiety -
Satisfaction -
Confusion -
Desire -
Sadness -
Confusion.

 

"Kibum...?" I ask under my breath.

"Yes, Jonghyun?"

 

"Can you...can you do that...again?"

 

And before I know it, his lips are pressed against mine once more.
And the rush of emotions begins again -

And I long to have the feeling of his lips against mine
For hours on end,
Until the end of time,
When I can finally understand what it is to be a man -
A true man.
 

And, in feeling Kibum's lips, I think I have come closer to being a real man.

 

I have him to thank for that.