Touch

is the premonition of loss-

drift swelling into tide-

sub-aqueous glow

that distorts

as much as it reveals

 

I dream

of that other life-

straddling sinuous waterfalls-

yearning for the impossible.

Is love clouded

with what we like to believe?

 

Mirrors

grow old like us. Bleary-eyed.

The flesh sags. Wrinkles appear.

petals of nostalgia.

I try to salvage

what I can.

 

 

 

Daud Kamal

 

 

 

 

 

It's very faint, when he first hears it, and he almost doesn't acknowledge it. The sound of someone pulling on strings becomes clearer as he feels more awake. His body automatically moves towards the sound, which leads to him falling out of his chair and onto the floor. The loud thud, he hears, when his face meets the floor is what fully wakes him up. He sits up, groaning while massaging his stiff neck. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in his chair again, he was just tired and his mattress seemed so far away.

The instrument is still being played ever so beautifully. Yuta moves towards his mattress and lets his upper body rest on it, he moves into a somewhat comfortable position so he can enjoy the rest of the piece. He closes his eyes and listens to it, so entranced by the music that he forgets about everything; he forgets about his stiff back, his empty notebook, that he was supposed to fill up months ago, still sitting on the table next to the pile of mail he still hasn't had the time to attend to.

 It ends and Yuta opens his eyes. He hasn't felt this peaceful in a long, long, time. He gets up and walks over to his window to see the source; no one is there but the instrument is. It takes a few seconds for him to recognize it. It looks so familiar, a second later it hits him-it's a Gayageum, an ever so beautiful 24 string set. He remembers the instrument, he also remembers when he got clowned by Johnny into taking classes to learn how to play it. "I want to connect with my roots and I don't want to do it alone." Johnny had said with big bulging puppy eyes. Yuta had taken one look at him and, suddenly, the word 'no' was no longer in his vocabulary. He also remembers their tutor physically kicking them out of his house because they were seriously that bad. He does see movement on the first floor of the house.

"The new neighbours must've moved in," he says to himself, "Let's see how long this lasts." He closes his window and tries to go back to sleep, on his mattress this time.

Yuta had moved from the city of Seoul to Jeju Island well over a year ago, mostly because his publisher had insisted that quiet is exactly what he needed to get over his writer’s block. He couldn't have been more wrong; Yuta loves noise, whether it's the sound of cars honking, dogs barking or loud obscene music being played in the streets. Growing up as an only child wasn't a fun experience, what made it worse was that both his parents had full time jobs which resulted in him spending 6 hours in complete solitude after school. With each day, Yuta grew tired and agitated of the quiet. The second he would step into his house he would leave the T.V on and turn the volume up, even if he wasn't watching it. It definitely made a difference; with the noise of generic music being there Yuta didn't feel so alone anymore. He found comfort in noise. 

He used to feel so inspired by the messiness noise projected. It used to act as string for him, connecting one sad verse to another. But when the string got cut off by too much mental distress, he stopped feeling inspired resulting in several blank pages and a persistent heavy feeling in his heart.

That's when his publisher had shown up at his door step with a one-way ticket to Jeju and an empty suitcase. He probably meant well, or that's what Yuta tells himself. He had bought this house, not for himself but as an investment 3 years ago. If he had pictured himself living in Jeju, he would've gotten a place with better scenery; most probably in a more commercial area. Jeju isn't a bad place per se, in Yuta's personal opinion, it's quite nice but it's too quiet. He hasn't heard anyone yell in months and he actually misses the old couple that used to live a floor below his and Johnny's apartment. Their useless arguments, which only took place after midnight helped him out every useless thought. The street he lives on is probably the quietest in the area and he hates it. Nothing about the house down to the cutlery fits his taste.

"But that's the challenge.", was what Yifan Hyung had said. "You have to push yourself to be in an unfamiliar environment, so you can develop as a writer."  To which Yuta had replied with, "I'll go if you maintain eye contact with Suho Hyung for an entire conversation."  Which he never managed to do but Yuta still had to leave. He's still waiting for inspiration to knock on his door and hit him in the face so he'll either suddenly feel inspired enough to write something or, at least, pass out.

It could be worse, he tells himself- he has more than enough skills and money to feed himself instant noodles. He goes out at 6 pm every day for a walk so he doesn't feel caged, at least not physically. He spends most of his days staring at the blank pages of his notebook, only giving up when his pen starts to feel burdensome within the hold of his fingers. To distract himself, he watches mediocre TV shows and listens to catchy pop songs so his thoughts always have the company of a horrible beat and meaningless lyrics. Sometimes when his days feel too long, which happens a lot, he calls Johnny- just so he doesn't feel lonelier than he already does and waits for the sweet release of sleep to come to him early.

T_T

It happens again, but this time he's already awake so there's no chance of him falling out of his chair. It's a different piece, Yuta almost recognizes it. He leans against the back of his chair and closes his eyes to let the serene ambiance swallow him. This time it lasts a little longer and the second it ends, Yuta gets up and looks out his window. Just like yesterday, no one is there. The backyard is empty but the living room door connected to the lawn entrance is open, Yuta closes his window and drops himself onto his mattress. "I'll be prepared next time." he says to himself, right before passing out.

The next time comes after 3 days. He can't exactly pin point what it is about the music that makes him fall into a deep trance every time he listens to it. Not today, though. Today, he is fully awake and sitting in front of his window, with his head lowered to avoid looking like a creep, waiting for someone to come out of the living room door. He waits for what feels like an hour but, in reality, is only fifteen minutes. Then it happens; the door opens and a very old man comes out with a chair in his hands and places it right in front of the instrument, but that's it. The old man leaves right after that. Yuta is, more or less, confused- is he not going to play today?

A minute later, a much younger man walks out of the door and sits on the chair. The first thing Yuta notices about him is his hair. Given his position, there's not much to see but he moves closer to the window to get a better look. His raven hair stands out like ink on paper and the right side of his scalp is shaved off, oddly looking good on him. A light breeze brushes past him because of which his thick bangs, mimicking the delicacy of a feather, land in front of his eyes. Yuta has never seen anything so ethereal. His eyes move from the man's hair to his clothes. They're very odd. He is wearing a white silk dress shirt and dress pants. Yuta looks at his clock which is blinking 5:00 am.

Who wears dress clothes at 5 ing am in the morning? That, too, in such humidity? The crease in Yuta's brow deepens. The man pulls his chair closer to the instrument and places his fingers on the strings and Yuta loses himself to the sound again, his eyes and body following the movement of the man's fingers. He's so mesmerized, everything about the man and the way his fingers pull the strings is just so, "Beautiful.", Yuta whispers to his empty room.

Every sound produced by each string matches up with the next in perfect harmony. He listens, he listens till the movement comes to a halt, and then the man gets up and leaves, dragging the chair with him. Yuta looks at his clock; it's blinking 6:00 am. During the last 9 months, one of the biggest challenges Yuta has had to overcome, apart from dealing with writer’s block, is letting time pass without him having any knowledge of it. After a long period, an hour passes by in seconds for him. He stares at the empty space for a while, where the man had been sitting less than five minutes ago, then closes his window.

It takes about two weeks for Yuta to start feeling like a creep; for two whole weeks, he wakes up at exactly 4:30 am and by 4:45 am he's sitting in front of his window, waiting for the man to come out. Waking up this early has, definitely, given his routine some structure, not that he has a lot of responsibilities to attend to, it gives him more time to stare at his empty notebook.

Yuta knew that houses in Jeju were small and tightly packed next to each other, given that the population was larger than the amount of land, but he never thought of it as something he would have to worry about. He has to wait for the man to settle down, so he can observe him from the safe space of his room and through his window. He notices how elegantly the man's fingers fit in the tiny space between the strings, notices his broad collection of silk dress shirts and black dress pants and how beautiful he looks in them.

There's nothing weird about admiring talent from afar but it feels wrong- he wants the boy to know that Yuta's listening, and has been doing so for two weeks. He takes a minute to mentally prepare himself for any, and every, outcome his following actions might result into.

Yuta walks towards his small balcony, slides the door open, takes a very careful step and grabs onto the railing. Considering the very small space, and his clumsiness, he doesn't want to fall and get hurt or worse; embarrass himself in front of his very talented and very beautiful neighbour at only his first attempt to befriend him. Looking at the placement of the houses and their alignment, they're not that far apart. Yuta thinks if he speaks just a little loudly, the boy will be able to hear him.

He waits patiently for the boy to finish his piece and when he does, Yuta does a seagull clap. That, definitely, gets the musician’s attention; he looks up from the strings and stares at him and Yuta's mind goes blank. Just like everything else about the man, his eyes radiate beauty. For a second, Yuta thinks it's not fair, it's not fair that the stranger sitting in the lawn opposite to his house is just so incredibly good looking and so brilliant at playing an instrument that he could barely touch without letting a string loose. He forgets the thought when he sees a smile form on his neighbour’s face.

Out of pure instinct Yuta yells, that too very loudly. "YOU'RE VERY TALENTED," and then gives him a thumbs-up. The small smile turns into a grin; it's like watching a marshmallow smile with how his neighbour’s sharp jaw line disappears and all he can see are his fluffy cheeks. Yuta notices a dimple, for some weird reason he wants to poke it.

"Thank you, I was waiting for you to come out of your cage. Now I know what you look like in daylight." The man replies, his voice a little quieter, and a lot clearer, compared to Yuta's.

Suddenly, very self-conscious of his dear sweatpants and unshaven face, Yuta lets out a very awkward laugh. It takes longer than a second for the man's words to sink in. Wondering? Does that mean he was able to see him? But how? He had been so careful; he only looked at the man when he was sure his eyes were closed and he waited at least ten minutes, after the man left, to get up to close his window. Was he really being that obvious? Did he fool himself into thinking that he was safe behind his stupid glass window?

He's pulled back into reality when the man speaks up again. "My name is Jung Jaehyun by the way." He's still grinning, if Yuta was a little closer he would have been able to count his teeth- he would be off by a few numbers, but still.

"My name is Nakamoto Yuta and you might find this a little hard to believe but I usually don't watch my neighbours like that, especially not without their permission." He does his best to sound nonchalant.  Jaehyun laughs and Yuta's legs tremble.

"It's okay, I don't mind having an audience," the raven-haired man winks.

Yuta feels something in his stomach. He tries very hard to keep his anxiety at bay, he doesn't want Jaehyun to know that everything about him is causing Yuta to feel jittery.

They talk for another minute before Jaehyun excuses himself and Yuta is about to walk back into his room when Jaehyun says his name.

 "Yuta-ssi," Jaehyun looks at him with his puppy dog eyes that seem to be executing far too many sentiments than the situation calls for and Yuta has to blink several times to convince himself that a year in solitude hasn't made him lose his sanity.

"Next time, I'd like it if you actually paid to have a front row seat in my morning shows," with that Jaehyun offers him a smirk and makes his exit, leaving Yuta with a tight knot in his stomach. His empty head now playing Jaehyun's laugh on loop with a verse of a Korean pop song in the background.

 

T_T

Jaehyun shows up at his doorstep 3 days later.

It's almost afternoon when Yuta hears a knock on his door. He's so lost in singing along to a pop song that he almost doesn't hear it. He runs towards the door, almost slipping on the wet floor. Yuta assumes it's the pizza delivery guy. When he opens the door, though, he is graced with the sight of Jaehyun wearing something other than his dress clothes.

"Hi." Jaehyun say sheepishly.

If Yuta had concluded that there was a limit to Jaehyun's beauty, then he was most-definitely wrong. His eyes wander from Jaehyun’s brows to his delicate knuckles to his alluring eyes. Just like all of their interactions, they make brief eye contact and it takes Yuta more than a second to realize that he's staring. 

"Hi," Yuta says as he extends his hand, initiating a hand shake. They shake hands and Yuta has never felt or touched anything so velvety, he has to force himself to let go. "I must say, I never thought I'd see you in anything that isn't formal and made out of silk." Jaehyun laughs, which makes Yuta's legs feel wobbly and noodle like, he puts his hand on the doorknob so he doesn't lose balance.

"Then I must say I never thought I'd see you in anything but sweatpants," he does a quick head to toe survey of Yuta with his eyes. "And looks like I wasn't wrong," he says, smirking.

Yuta scoffs, "Ha." which adds prominence to Jaehyun’s subtle smirk.

"I came to give you this," he hands him an envelope. Yuta's attention moves to the plain white envelop in Jaehyun’s hand and he takes it from him, their fingers touch for longer than a second as if neither of them want to let go. Jaehyun pulls away and Yuta has to stop himself from thinking about the lingering touch. He opens it, showing no haste in that action.

"It's an invitation." Yuta says blandly.

"Yeah," Jaehyun says, while rubbing the back of his neck, "My recital is in September, if you're free I'd like it if you come." Jaehyun doesn't hide his nervousness as well as Yuta does, but Yuta has had years of practise of turning himself into a stoic being.

 "It's front row." He gives Jaehyun a sly look.

 Whatever uneasiness Jaehyun was feeling is visibly gone now, the corners of his mouth lifting up and forming a beautiful smile.

 "Of course, it is." Jaehyun replies, "Also, I was wondering if you'd want to enjoy my morning practice sessions from my lawn instead of your window. I promise my lawn chairs are comfortable and the view from them is amazing." Jaehyun winks at him. Yuta isn't the type to over-exaggerate every thought and action but he, actually, feels his heart skip a beat.

Yuta chuckles, "I would love that."

"Great, the lawn door will be open so let yourself in."

He nods. "Would you like to join me for lunch?"

Jaehyun’s lips slightly part open and he lets out a sigh, his gaze flickering between Yuta and an invisible being behind him. He looks torn, "I wish I could but I have to be somewhere."

"Oh, then I'll see you tomorrow, Jaehyun-ssi."

Jaehyun nods and offers him a soft smile before he leaves.

 

T_T

Yuta shows up at Jaehyun’s doorstep at exactly 4:55 am and the lawn door is, indeed, open. Yuta is about to step in when he hears a very sharp tone, "No shoes."

He looks up and it's Jaehyun- the soft smile on his face doesn't match his tone at all. Today he is wearing an ocean blue silken shirt paired with the same black dress pants he wears every day. In the two weeks Yuta has spent watching Jaehyun from his window, he has been able to thoroughly enjoy his pieces and admire his celestial beauty from afar but the placement of the instrument had blocked him from looking at everything below Jaehyun’s waist. He figured Jaehyun would be wearing a pair of shoes just as fancy as his clothes but he's not. Jaehyun is standing in front of him with his usual dress attire on and feet.

"You know," Yuta looks up. "I'd like it better if you checked me out as I played." Jaehyun’s tone is laced with pure amusement.

Yuta isn't caught off guard, he knows damn well what his staring can imply. He just doesn't know why he didn't stop himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he says, nonchalantly.

His reply, definitely, changes something in the way Jaehyun looks at him. Jaehyun guides him inside and Yuta refrains from telling Jaehyun that he has already been in his house before, just so he has an excuse to ask for a tour later and hopefully spend a few extra minutes in Jaehyun’s company. He had been so close to buying this particular one but something about the fairly huge and old tree in the corner of the lawn had put him off.

Now, though, he thinks the setting is perfect because Jaehyun is there. There's a mini stage-like area in front of the living room door where the gayageum and Jaehyun’s chair are placed. Right in front of the instrument are a few steps and a chair, similar to Jaehyun's, is placed a little further away from them. There's a small table right beside the chair that's carrying the weight of a Wenlock jug filled with cold water and a lowball glass.  

 Jaehyun points toward the chair placed in front of the mini stage and silently motions him to sit there.

 "So, I'm literally your only audience." Yuta says as he settles down.

"Well… for now, but we do count the bugs." Jaehyun says slyly.

Yuta's eyes shoot wide open as he retracts his feet from the ground and pulls his knees closer to his chest, wrapping both his arms around them. "Bugs?" He does a quick scan of the lawn, "Where?" paranoia obvious in his tone. 

"You're scared of bugs?" Jaehyun asks, his eyes and mouth wide open, laughter threatening to spill.

 "Listen, they have more than four legs and I can actually feel them crawling on my skin."  Yuta wishes he had worn something other than a tank top, the humidity had sadly left him with only a handful of options.

As expected, Jaehyun laughs. Being the centre of mockery is never fun, but being the source behind Jaehyun's smile does tighten the knot in Yuta's stomach.

"It's okay, it's still early so they won't bother us for a while." Jaehyun takes his place behind the instrument and puts on his finger picks, taking his time to do so. The second his fingers pull the strings, Yuta loses himself to the sound. For an hour, just like the past few weeks, the enrapturing music takes him to a completely different place, a place where deadlines and empty notebooks don't represent dread, where the left and right hemisphere of his brain are working in perfect coordination and haven't blocked out his creative senses. He looks at Jaehyun.

Actually, looks at him and takes in every little detail that he couldn't see through his bedroom window. He won't say it out loud but Jaehyun had been, absolutely, right; the view is amazing. Jaehyun's eyes are closed which saves Yuta the shame of mustering up a poor excuse for excessive staring. Jaehyun's skin is pale, so pale that if it weren't for his chromatic and shiny wardrobe, Yuta would probably lose him to the bleached background. His pale skin adds a sort of distinction to the rest of his physical features; the red in his lips resembles the delicacy and shade of a Supertunia black cherry, his lashes look as graceful and thick as a single feather, there's a light rosy tint on his cheeks and his nose is so... perfect for his face. It's so cute.

Yuta doesn't comment on Jaehyun’s dark circles, they are nothing compared to the heavy bags Yuta has been carrying around for the past year. Still, though, in a very odd way they add onto his beauty. Through his window, Yuta was only able to see a side of Jaehyun’s hair, not all of it. His thick glossy raven hair in contrast to his pale skin stand out the most. The shaved side strangely looks very beautiful. He thinks this, the environment in its entirety, including Jaehyun, is the most soothing sight he has ever witnessed. He's certain he will never experience something this serene ever again. The knot in his stomach is replaced with a sinking feeling. He allows himself to shed a single tear and blinks away the rest, looking away the second Jaehyun opens his eyes.

"So," Jaehyun says, "Did you enjoy that?", Yuta senses a hint of shyness in his voice.

He looks up and rests his head on his knees and replies as calmly as he can. "Very much." The sincerity in his tone shocks Yuta himself.

Jaehyun blushes, he mumbles out a thank you while staring at his fingers. Yuta gets up, "I should probably get going," he motions toward the lawn door.

 Jaehyun looks directly into his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow though, Yuta-ssi?"

"Of course, you will."

Maybe it was the peaceful setting or the music or that he hasn't slept in over 42 hours but Yuta suddenly feels very overwhelmed. He gives Jaehyun a weak smile and leaves.

He lets his emotions take over the second he steps into his house. He drops his body onto his sofa. "What was that?," he says to himself. He has never felt this confused and overwhelmed in such a peaceful situation. He has to do something, anything, to crowd his mind so his thoughts don't take over him. Normally, he'd play music really loudly but it's still too early to do that and he doesn't want to disturb his neighbours. Other than that, he would write but for that he would have to empty out his mind first. He can't sleep, not because he isn't exhausted but because he knows his thoughts won't let him.

He gets up and goes to his room, picks up his phone that's sitting beside his mattress and does something he hasn't done in a while. He scrolls through his contacts and clicks on Johnny's name. After 3 rings, he hears a very muffled, groggy and annoyed. "Hello." 

"It's me." The shakiness in his voice eases out the annoyance in Johnny's tone. The older man doesn't need to ask any questions in regards to why Yuta is calling him this early.

"I'll set the phone right next to me, is that good enough?" Johnny says, his voice a little clearer than before.

"Yeah."

Yuta taps on the speaker icon and places the phone next to his lamp on the floor as he lays down on his mattress. The sound of Johnny breathing is like white noise but it's enough. It's enough to put him at ease, it's enough to crowd his mind and push out every unnecessary thought and it's enough to help him fall into a deep slumber.

T_T

They're in the same setting they've been in for the past week and Yuta feels uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. The lawn chairs make his back feel stiffer than ice, the humid air makes him feel like he's breathing in water which, on top of Jaehyun's presence, is making it even harder for him to breathe and the freshly cut grass is prickling his feet. There's sweat forming on his upper lip, his back and his neck and it's making him feel so itchy. It's taking every ounce of self-control he has to not wipe the sweat off of his upper lip and harshly scratch his neck. His tank top is drenched with sweat and is now sticking to his chest. Jaehyun's situation isn't much different either. His silk shirt is literally wet, Yuta can almost make out the outline of his chest. He averts his attention to other things, not wanting to get lost in that train of thoughts, especially not right now.

He lets his eyes wander around the lawn. The tall old tree in the back is protecting them from the sun’s glare. His eyes follow the movement of the dead leaves on the ground and he tries to come up with a verse to describe how lifeless the leaves look compared to the radiance of the fresh greenery they're lying on. He's so lost in his creative process that he doesn't even notice that Jaehyun is done with his piece.

"You know," Jaehyun speaks up, "Normally, when I finish playing I expect an applause from the audience." he tilts his head and gives Yuta a look.

Which, weirdly enough, isn't enough to pull Yuta out of his head, he just shivers and retracts his feet from the ground and pulls them close to his chest. It's as if Jaehyun senses his discomfort got triggered by the setting they're in.

"We can go inside now that I'm done," Jaehyun says, while taking off picks off of his fingers. "You know," he tilts his head again, "before the ant army senses your fear and takes advantage of it."

That is enough to pull Yuta out of his head. He would have tried to play it off coolly, as if the bugs don't cause an itch under his skin, but Jaehyun is already aware of his fear so there is no point in trying to impress him now. Yuta makes a run for it. He runs past Jaehyun and stops when his knee hits the back of a sofa.

He turns around and Jaehyun is still standing outside, "You can look around if you want."

Yuta scans the living room from his position. The interior is everything Yuta had expected it to be. It's so eccentric and... open. The windows are all glass with silver handles but there are no curtains covering them, there's a huge oval shaped glass coffee table in the centre of the room surrounded by sofas that are almost as pale as Jaehyun himself. The walls are covered with mint green paint and dark brown frames with portraits. Jaehyun isn't in any of them. He sits on a sofa, his back facing Jaehyun and gently places the book he had brought with him next to him. He stretches his foot a little to feel the fabric of the rug placed beneath the table. It's so soft. He's tempted to give up his position on the sofa and lay flat on the rug but he's adamant on not making a fool of himself in front of Jaehyun already. Instead, he stares at the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.

He thinks of how bizarre his own domestic setting is. His living room is currently harbouring a very ugly but comfortable brown leather sofa, a black bean bag chair and a single farmhouse style chair. His T.V and home theatre system take up most of the living room space. He doesn't have any pictures nailed to the wall either, considering how he had thought of his move to Jeju as temporary. For a second, he thinks the earth is slipping away from under his feet and the thought turns into reality when a moment later his face meets the rug.

 "What the hell?" he says to himself. He takes his place on the sofa and it happens again. He places his hand on it and feels the fabric. It's satin.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Jaehyun gives him a confused yet amused look.

"I was just," his eyes land on the coffee table in front of him that is housing several boxes filled with finger picks, each as beautiful and personalized as the next, and he points towards them, "admiring your collection. It's beautiful."

"You can do that from the sofa too, you know that right?"

"I know but satin literally brings me to my knees."

 Jaehyun chuckles. "Then maybe we should get some bugs in here to keep you still." Yuta jumps back onto the sofa and holds onto the edge this time.

 "Don't joke about that," he says with a flat yet serious tone, he does a quick scan of the room just to make sure there aren't any bugs.

Jaehyun settles next to him, wiping sweat off of his forehead with a tissue paper. "Would you like something to drink?"

He moves his eyes to Jaehyun’s silk shirt which has now lost any and all trace of shine it had an hour ago and is now completely soaked with his sweat. But the man still hasn't popped open a button or made the slightest gesture to express any sort of discomfort.

"Aren't you hot?" Yuta blurts out. The corner of Jaehyun’s mouth lifts up, forming a smirk.

"You can't question a fact, Yuta-ssi."

Yuta scoffs, "Why do you wear dress clothes in such weather and this early in the morning?" A shy smile replaces the smirk on Jaehyun’s face. He pushes his bangs back.

"For the dramatic effect."  His reply makes Yuta smile. His eyes land on the book sitting between them.

Yuta follows his gaze and pushes the book towards Jaehyun. "This is for you."

Jaehyun picks it up. "Indigo by Nakamoto Yuta," he reads out loud and his expression changes into something similar to astonishment as he shifts his eyes and body towards Yuta. "Wait! you're the Yuta, the poet?," his voice comes out a little squeaky.

"Yeah, that's me. Is everything okay?"

"No-I mean yes. I love your poems, they're so beautiful."

Yuta lets out a breathy laugh, "Thank you, I hope you enjoy this collection."

"I will! Your collections, especially the translated ones, are so hard to find as they're always sold out. I had to wait four months to get my hands on your first publication. Thank you for this." he smiles at the black book in his hand.

That day Yuta goes home and sits on his chair, lifts his pen, which now feels light as a feather-the prolonged heaviness no longer there, and opens his notebook. The dread between the blank pages disappears, giving him a clear canvas and so he writes. For the first time, in almost a year, he writes. The pen, within his hold, moves against the paper mimicking the swift motion of a wave crashing into the shore. He writes while his mind plays the memory of Jaehyun's melodious laughter on loop.

T_T