The first few days went by fairly quickly as Dongwan explored the tourist spots his virtual itinerary recommended for him. The Golden Gate Bridge was ten times more grandiose in real life than any picture had ever shown. A gleaming red monument climbing high above the traffic zooming across the massive body of water that connects San Francisco to the rest of the world. His was filled with wonder and intrigue on his adventure to Alcatraz, his mind buzzing with questions that maybe only the spirits of the island could answer.

Dongwan took cable cars through Union Square, making sure to find a nice blouse to gift his mother with and a handbag for his sister. Just minutes away from the square was Chinatown, where eastern culture thrived and gave him the feeling of something familiar.

One evening, Dongwan made his way back through Chinatown and visited the R&G Lounge where he enjoyed a pile of jumbo shrimp and a cool Lychee martini.

“Seems like you’ve got your hands full, big guy.”

He was in the middle of unpeeling a particularly large shrimp when the man beside him spoke up. The five-person table was taken up by a few others, who had done nothing but smile shyly when they first sat down before focusing on their own meals. It had been a full feast from there and the restaurant was abuzz with munching, cracking shells and compliments about the food.

This man had a nice smile, innocent yet mischievous in a way. He was Asian like himself, slender-built where Dongwan was bulky, with very handsome features. His plate was full of large cracked shells and claws, the defeated remains of the colossal salt and pepper crab the place is famous for.         

Dongwan smirked. It was cute really, the obvious jeer at his muscles and the hidden challenge in his words. America was certainly more open than South Korea when it came to homouality. This man seemed emboldened by this fact. Either that, or he was just that self-assured.   

Dongwan stripped the last of the shell and slipped the shrimp between his lips, taking his time to slowly munch as the other man watched him. One of the other patrons at their table gave them a side glance that they both ignored. He swallowed the last bit of his fish and grinned.

“Is that an invitation?”

“And if it is?” the man countered.

Dongwan smiled and offered his hand.

“My name is Dongwan. And yours?”

When the man didn’t accept it, he let it fall to his lap. Dongwan cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly in his seat, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He panicked internally, suspecting that he misread the social queues and just made a total of himself. When the stranger called the waiter over, Dongwan slipped his wallet out of his pocket ready to ask for his check, when suddenly he was stopped by a firm hand.

When Dongwan met his eyes, the man smirked confidently then turned to the waiter.

“Check for Junjin. Please charge my credit card for this man’s meal as well, and a ten-dollar tip for yourself.”

The waiter made a note of their meals and took the platinum card he was offered, then with a nod, left to complete the order.

Dongwan fumbled to thank him, but Junjin waved a dismissive hand and chuckled.

“You can thank me later.”   

Later that night, Dongwan found himself rutting against him and fumbling for his belt buckle as they stumbled into a hotel room. The next morning, he woke up alone with a fierce migraine and a note on the bedside that read;

Thanks for the memories, Big Guy.

Dongwan spent the last week of his stay avoiding any spontaneous hook-ups. His encounter made him think twice about his fortune, but now he was of the impression that he was the ed up one, not the shady psychic. He was dumb enough to believe it, and he was the one rushing into things whenever it felt good. He reprimanded himself for not relaxing like he said he was going to do. And so, he went back to doing just that, spending his days sticking to a strict tourist schedule and his nights lounging at home.

Before he realized it, three days remained before Minwoo was expected to return. Dongwan didn’t want to admit it, but as the time wound down, his mind was filled with more thoughts of Minwoo. Traces of him were down every hallway and in every room; he was everywhere. Dongwan was reminded very clearly that he was living in another person’s house, a person who he was getting to know with every picture on the wall and every trinket sitting on the shelves.

There was no romantic subtext, just a powerful sense of familiarity. Dongwan reasoned that it was more practical than anything, seeing as he’d been staying in Minwoo’s house for a number of days. After Minwoo’s return, he’d be leaving with a sense of loss for a friend he never had and a home he never knew existed.  

Dongwan was in the kitchen when his mind wandered on these thoughts and as fate would have it, he caught himself staring at the closed door of the basement. He recalled that Minwoo being passive about it. With time to spare and curiosity driving his steps forward, he made his way down the stairs.

At first, it seemed to be just as Minwoo said, a basement with old junk and nothing of particular interest. However, upon closer inspection, Dongwan discovered that it was so much more. The floors were not concrete but wax, made rough by age and lack of care. In boxes piled high in the corner, a collection of discs and notebooks collected dust.

Dongwan only removed one of the top discs and took it upstairs to the living room. He was fascinated when the DVD showed a much younger Minwoo at the center of a practice room, dancing to a 90s Usher song. Later in the video, he was singing, and to Dongwan’s surprise, he was actually pretty good.

He couldn’t fight the urge to watch more, and before he knew it, he had spent hours watching Minwoo sing and dance. He also discovered that some of the notebooks were filled with original lyrics, and deeper in the boxes were videos of him singing them.

Dongwan was struck speechless when he reached the last box and came to the stunning realization that every single disk and notebook were all marked with the English letter “M”.