It had been a few months since Brighton was officially declared as his new home. And the long short-haired – he had cut his hair that it looked somewhat like a bob – must admit it was such a lovely town with lush greenery and blue sky, exuberant people who went to church every week and beautiful shores – nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, the first thing he did after settling down revolved around Seungcheol. And of course, anyone would know what his parents’ reactions were like; ‘Do you need to be like this – making up a story just to be with him?’, ‘So you are saying we neglected your brother even after we found him?’, ‘You know you two look nothing alike, right? You can ask anyone that and let’s see if we’re right or not.’ – this one Jeonghan agreed but still, siblings or even twins could look not alike, right? – ‘You cannot just say a random orphan is your brother, Yoon Jeonghan.’ No matter how hard he tried to tell them they were getting the wrong idea of him wanting to be with Seungcheol, they wouldn’t listen. But Jeonghan wasn’t buying them either, not one bit.

When he tried to press them about his mother’s weird expression and action toward him, they just came up with a casual explanation that his mom wasn’t fond of – he would rather use the word despised – orphans.

The evidential albums made it worse; ‘How could pictures of a child tell anything?’, ‘We grew up and we changed, both physically and mentally. You cannot just say this person is that person just from their childhood pictures.’, which were bulls. Of course, we in our childhood pictures looked like us now – or at least had traces of similarity – and vice versa. They terribly disappointed him. How could they say such things? Even animals could tell their babies from others’, couldn’t humans do the same?

Were they really parents or just used to be? Jeonghan wasn’t sure about that anymore. He didn’t wanna cry, but looked like he did.

Talking about him, fate eventually took regard of. It was one ordinary Sunday that Jeonghan, going to Mass, got to meet him again – or kind of.

The autumn sun brought warmth to overwhelmed the outside of the church. The inside, however, was windy and cooler due to the high ceiling. A thought suddenly came to him that, since they had moved here, his mother hardly visited church unlike she normally did. She would come up with an excuse of not feeling well, having a cold, or other stuffs that Jeonghan started to lose faith in those excuses – he’d lost it in her long time ago. His father, on the other hand, had never shown the slightest interest in devoutness, so it was nothing particular. And today was no difference from the other Sundays.

For he was a little early or whatever reason, Jeonghan found the church quite empty. But still, he chose to sit in the back row. For a moment, everything was so peacefully quiet that he shot a glance at his watch to assure himself he didn’t come at the wrong hour. Just then that he looked up, people gradually started coming in and within one long exhale the place was rather crowded as it was supposed to be. Everything went smoothly and Jeonghan let his mind drift in the praying and singing and out of anxiety and discontent, grief and sorrow he had had. No sooner had the priest came up at the ambo than the black-haired’s eyes went straight to the front and spotted the all too familiar back and shoulders, hair and ears, that he couldn’t turn his them away.

That can’t be him.

But that can’t not be him either.

His heart all of a sudden began racing against the wind that flooded the place. It was as if the time had come to a halt as the man tilted his face ever so slightly, revealing his sharp side profile with lips curved up only a little but was still able to form a beautiful smile. And Jeonghan could not be wrong. Those perfect nose and eyelashes were no one else’s. No one else’s but his.

The chaebol couldn’t do anything until the Mass came to an end where everyone started taking their leaves, but his eyes never left the man’s back neither. However, when the time actually came and he finally made through all the people, Jeonghan found no trace of the man like he was never there, not even the faintest scent of his. Or maybe he really was never there, the chaebol couldn’t know.

“Father, have you seen the Asian man who was sitting here earlier?” He decided to ask, pointing to the particular pew. “He’s around my age and has got bulky baby eyes with long lashes.”

The priest looked rather bewildered as he answered, “Young lad, I’m afraid you’re the only Asian I’ve seen today.” He added. “But then again, you don’t speak English like most Asians do.”

“I did grow up in the States,” said the younger.

“Well then, would you mind me asking where your mother country is and the reason you came here?” The older sat them at the earlier-mentioned pew.

“Not at all,” sure Jeonghan didn’t, he was just wondering why someone would be curious about his past but anyway he answered as truthfully possible.

“Hmm… So this is why your soul is drowned in dejection and regret, isn’t it, young man?”

The priest’s comment earned Jeonghan a lifted brow, for he wasn’t quite sure how the story of him moving to Korea then moving to here had anything to do with those mentioned. I didn’t mention him, did I? “I-I guess not.”

Seeing that, Father continued, “The feelings of missing someone or something when leaving a place are naturally come and gone. So don’t be afraid, my dear Son. Let God guide us.”

“I’m glad he would, Father.”

Jeonghan really meant that. However, apparently and sadly, he didn’t or didn’t as much as the bob-haired continued to see him, slowly and silently driving Jeonghan crazy from the inside. If this wasn’t what they called seeing things – or in this case a person – he didn’t know what was. And among all the facts that day or night, sunny or cloudy, church or home, school or park, he came and left, his hallucination still was the clearest at the church as if there was some sort of power that helped connecting them together.

The more time passed, the more Jeonghan was sure that he was not sure about himself anymore: who he was, who he loved, who loved him, what had actually happened. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not his appa, nor his eomma. And now, not even his eyes, his heart, his mind, himself.

That feeling started from that day, and it never stopped.

-

Today felt like it was the first time in forever – actually that was too much – that he was allowed back in Korea. Why, you say? The person that allowed him back was also the reason he had to leave here in the first place – but maybe not exactly. The actual thing was his grandmother, whose place was near one of his apartments, got a little worse with her Alzheimer, but her son – as known as Jeonghan’s father – was, as usual, too busy with his work to leave. So instead his grandfather asked his grandson to come. Of course, it didn’t end just that. His parents were still suspicious of him even though his incident with him was almost ten years ago and we all knew the death could do nothing – maybe saved for hallucinating, which again wasn’t exactly their fault – our minds were the ones who could create that after all. It was true that he still reappeared from time to time, but if the chaebol did not tried not to take heed of him, everything was fine. Anyway, his mother had to come with him, and that was final.

Throughout the years he spent in England, his health had significantly been better; he never got to use contact lenses ever since, colds sometimes came but just sometimes, rarely would he accidentally hit himself with random stuffs, therefore, the less spraint occurred to him and the harder to find bruises on him, and also occasionally would he get allergic or asthma. And Dr. Ok would love to hear that.

Twelve years in the States, twelve years in Korea, then eight years in England, sometimes he thought his life had had so much already, and time would prove him wrong every time. He didn’t know what to expect from coming here. Would he get to stay? Would he finally get rid of his single state? Nothing was certain.

The chaebol let his face confront the bright sun and the cloudy sky of Seoul, South Korea. What was his first impression of it? Was it still the same as twenty years ago when he first returned here? Civilized, prosperous city with millions of people engaging in activities and events, studying, working, living. Groups of students passed onto the Klassen’s window beside him and was gone in a wink, but he still knew that they were in neither middle or high school because they weren’t in uniforms.

“I told grandpa we’re going to be there in a while.” Said Jeonghan after he had hung up the call but his mother didn’t say anything, so he turned to her. “Eomma?” She was resting with her face facing the window. She must be tired from travelling and probably have a jet lag as well. Silently sighing, he slowly reached for her hand and…it was like ice.

-

So the plan was changed. Instead of going straight to his grandparents’ place, they had to drop by a hospital. Of all places, it happened to be his former university Yonsei that he considered this as a great opportunity to pay a visit to the professors he knew – he just wished most of them were still there. The buildings were mostly the same but, as he had expected, the people were different. From the main entrance to the VIP room – not that he liked showing off as a chaebol, but his mother wouldn’t like it if she woke up to find herself in a normal ward, Jeonghan saw countless unkn