December 1999

 

The harsh wind bites at Junmyeon’s cheeks as he forces his small feet to walk through the crowd. His right boot gives a miserable squelch as more and more snow makes its way inside it. His left boot stays dry, for some reason, but it gives him little comfort.

He tries looking for his parents again, but there are only strangers around. They all seem like giants to him. They towered over him, bumped into him with their thick padded coats and ignored him as they all went about their own way—they were all preventing him from seeing his Eomma and Appa. Were they looking for him? They didn’t leave him, did they? What if they did…? He was being insistent on ice skating…

Junmyeon swallows the sob that makes its way up his throat. He must not cry, he was a big boy now. Eomma said big boys mustn’t cry.

He trudges on. He makes his way back to the tree near the lake where he’d last been with his parents, before a boisterous crowd of students separated him from them. It’s much less crowded now. As he walked towards it, Junmyeon saw a lone boy standing underneath it.

He looked about Junmyeon’s age. It was evident that the boy was crying. He was trying to hide it, but fat tears would make their way out of his eyes from time to time—tears that he would brush off with a stubborn hand as his eyes swept the grounds with poorly masked anxiety.

“Hello,” Junmyeon softly greets. “Are you lost too?”

The boy’s eyes snap towards him in surprise, and they change from shock to relief. His lower lip trembles as he nods, and new tears fall down his round cheeks. “I can’t find my Appa,” he whimpers.

“My Eomma and Appa are gone, too,” Junmyeon confesses with a small sob of his own.

And both burst out crying, but not as hard as they would have alone. They find that they were not so scared anymore, not when they at least had a companion.

Junmyeon recovers first. “I’m Junmyeon,” he says as he wipes the last of his tears on his jacket sleeve.

“Jongin,” the boy replies. “How old are you? I’m six years old.”

“Me too!” Junmyeon says excitedly. “Let’s be friends.”

Jongin nods earnestly and holds out his hand. Junmyeon takes the outstretched hand, mentally grinning to himself because his hands were bigger.

“Jummyeon, do you like chocolate?” Jongin asks as he digs through his pockets. “Appa bought me lots.”

“It’s Junmyeon,” Junmyeon corrects him as he gratefully holds out his hand for a sweet treat. “Not Jummyeon.”

“Jummyeon.”

“Jun. Myeon.”

“Jummyeon.”

“Yah!” Junmyeon laughs. “It’s okay, I guess you can call me Jummyeon.”

Jongin chews for a while, thinking. “Ah!” he exclaims. “I’ll call you Myeonnie.”

Junmyeon giggles at the nickname. “I like it.”

“Jongin!”

Both boys turn at the sound, and they see a man jogging towards them.

“Appa!” Jongin shouts. He races towards his father and all but tackles his legs. He bursts out crying, and the man ruffles Jongin’s head sheepishly before lifting him up and letting the child cry on his shoulder. 

 Jongin suddenly goes Ah! And he extricates himself from his father’s arms and jumps to the ground. "Appa, this is my friend Myeonnie!" he announces as he stands next to Junmyeon. "He’s six, just like me!”

“Hello, Myeonnie,” Jongin’s father smiles down at him. It reminds Junmyeon of his own Appa, and his eyes start watering. The man’s eyes widen in alarm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Appa, Myeonnie’s Eomma and Appa are lost,” Jongin explains. “Just like you were lost. Myeonnie found me so I wasn’t scared. So we can’t leave Myeonnie okay?”

“All right, Jongin. We’ll stay with Myeonnie.”

Jongin puts an arm around Junmyeon’s shoulders and starts patting the boy on the head, murmuring words of comfort. Junmyeon’s parents fortunately come by a few minutes later, and they both smother the child in a hug filled with relief.

“Myeonnie!” Jongin calls to him as he was walking away with his father. “Let’s play here together! Appa and I will be here again next week!”

“Okay!” Junmyeon shouts back. “See you, Jongin!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

January 2000

Despite protests from his parents, Junmyeon insists on going back to the park the following week.

“But I promised Jongin,” he argues. “And if I don’t go, I won’t see him again. Appa~” he starts whining.

His father sighs and nods at Junmyeon’s mother. “I’ll take him.”

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Junmyeon starts running, until his father grabs his wrist and sternly reminds him about boys who slip on ice. Junmyeon sobers, but his face lights up as the familiar tree comes into view and he sees his friend.

“Jongin!” he shouts excitedly and runs, much to the exasperation of his father.

“Myeonnie!” his friend cries with just as much excitement.

The boys spend the day throwing snowballs at each other while their fathers chatted. They even tried making a snowman, but their hands were too small for a big one. They settle for making small snowmen underneath the peach blossom tree, and it soon became a race to see which of them could make more. Junmeyon was faster, but Jongin was better at making them—his snowmen had perfectly round bodies and even faces carved out with his small fingers.

“Myeonnie,” Jongin speaks up.

“Mm?”

“What is your favorite? I think my favorite is winter.”

“I dunno. I like summer, but winter is also good.”

“But there are no snowmen in summer’” Jongin pouts.

Junmyeon pauses and smiles at the snowball in his hand. “You’re right. I think winter is my favorite now, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 2000

“You’re rich,” Junmyeon gasps in awe as he looks up at the colossal building before him. “You’re like, one of those meeleeners on tv.”

Jongin smiles proudly. “Eomma bought this all by herself! She told Appa to live here with me.”

“Your Eomma is not here?”

“Nope, she’s in Seoul.” Jongin says simply as he grabs Junmyeon’s wrist. “Come on! Let’s go inside, it’s big and nice and cool and there are thousand millions of rooms!”

Junmyeon was not sure what “thousand millions” meant, but he lets himself get pulled along, and the day is filled with exploring strange rooms, and cookies in between.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 2003

Junmyeon tries to use his hands to fan himself. The sweltering weather is making his head swim. He’s sitting on a bench underneath the peach tree. Someone had installed it sometime ago, and Junmyeon liked how it was perfectly under the shade of the tree.

“What took you so long?” Junmyeon demands as he sees Jongin jogging towards him. “It’s so hot out, I sweated so much waiting for you!”

“Aw, come on, you know how my dad is,” Jongin placates. “He said I had to finish all my homework before going out to play.”

He glares at his friend’s dopey grin until an idea pops in his head. “You’re buying us ice cream this time.”

“Hey, no fair! I paid last time!”

“That’s what you get for being late,” says Junmyeon, sticking out his tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2005

Jongin’s face is furrowed. “It that I can’t spend Christmas here,” he says as he halfheartedly kicks on the snow.

Junmyeon simply nods in agreement. He didn’t like not having his bestfriend around either.

“I didn’t even want to go. But Appa said Eomma will be lonely if I don’t go.” Jongin kicks another pile of snow. “I don’t believe him. Eomma doesn’t get lonely. She’s always working. She won’t even notice I’m there.”

“Why don’t you get here a present?” Junmyeon suggests. “And maybe ask her to skip work for you.”

Jongin shakes his head. “No. I don’t want…” he stops walking, making Junmyeon halt as well. He looks back at his friend. Jongin’s head was down, and his hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“I… I don’t like Eomma,” he confesses in a whisper. “Eomma is scary.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

August 2007

Junmyeon’s breath comes out in gasps, and his lungs feel like they’re on fire. But he runs, ignoring the strain in his legs. Jongin. Jongin needed him.

The peach blossom tree finally comes into view, along with his friend’s hunched figure at the bench underneath. He runs, but finds himself stopping just a couple of steps infront of his friend.

“Jongin…” he calls out tentatively.

His friend looks up at him, eyes red and swollen from tears. “Junmyeon,” he pleads.

In an instant, Junmyeon is sitting beside him, hugging him tight even though hugs between them became awkward some time ago. He holds his friend tight, patting the back of his head as Jongin sobs into his shoulder.

He remembers the time when they first met, when Jongin’s appa finally found them. When it was Jongin’s appa whose shoulder Jongin was crying into.

Junmyeon’s shoulders were not as broad, nor were they as trusty.

But he whispers a promise to the skies as he holds his friend.

Please don’t worry. I’ll take care of him now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Eomma’s coming here to live with me,” Jongin informs him as they stand infront of his father’s grave.

Everyone else was gone now. Even Junmyeon’s parents had left the boys, letting them have some time to themselves.

Junmyeon winces at the relief that floods his chest. It was great the Jongin would not be moving out of town. But he was being selfish. He should be thinking of how Jongin’s situation, not his own.

“She didn’t even come to his funeral.”

And Junmyeon sees it again, the rare bouts of frustration that Jongin seemed to reserve for his mother. Not knowing what else to do, he reaches for his friend’s hand. He half expected Jongin to shake his hand free, but instead he welcomes Junmyeon’s touch. He gives their hands a gentle squeeze.

They stay until the sun paints the sky red.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 2008

Jongin invites Junmyeon to come study at their house, but somehow coming over did not excite Junmyeon as much as it did before.

Jongin’s house was different now. His father’s paintings were gone, the flower vases were gone, too—all replaced with monochrome decors that seemed to the light from the rooms.

It’s actually quite weird for Jongin to invite Junmyeon to study. Jongin, who lazed around in school, preferring to fill his notebooks with doodles of eccentric buildings.

“Eomma says she wants me to have high grades,” is all he offers as he sits infront of Junmyeon.

Junmyeon smirks. “Did you tell her exactly how stupid you are?”

“Yah!”

Junmyeon laughs, but he quickly stifles it with his hand. They’re not allowed to make noises here anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 2008

Jongin is quieter these days.

Junmyeon had thought that it must have been him still grieving, but this has been going on for too long now. The Jongin with the easy smiles and mischievous laugh seems to have been buried beneath the layers and layers of stiff clothing that his mother forces him to wear. She takes him along with her to events—fancy events that were off-limits to Junmyeon.

His friend seems to have been replaced with a meek boy.

But Junmyeon has learned to stop worrying.

Because when it’s just the two of them, alone in Junmyeon’s room… Jongin comes back. When he is in Junmyeon’s room, Jongin likes comic books again, likes making a ruckus again, likes drawing silly things on his notebooks again. When he is in Junmyeon’s room, Junmyeon is his friend again, and not the boy that doesn’t quite meet the standards of Jongin’s mother.

And that was all right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 2009

“I want to build houses,” Jongin whispers, as they sit under their peach tree, sipping steaming cups of chocolate.

Junmyeon looks up from his cup. “You do?”

Jongin nods. “I want to build small, cozy houses,” he says. “Ones that stay warm even in the winter.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 2010

“What do you think about girls?”

“What do you mean,” Junmyeon asks.

“I mean, do you like them?”

The question takes Junmyeon off guard. Did Jongin notice?

“I… I like them well enough,” he offers. “But…I don’t…”

“You don’t what?”

Junmyeon looks away.

He doesn’t see his friend’s eyes widen in realization.

“Junmyeon, are you… are you gay?”

Junmyeon visibly stiffens. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He is suddenly being crushed in a hug. Jongin smells like chocolates, like always. His scent has always been addicting, but today it makes Junmyeon feel safe.

“What are you being sorry for?” Jongin demands. “Did you think I’d hate you for that? You’re Junmyeon. You’re my best friend. And that won’t change just because you like .”

Junmyeon lets out an affronted squawk that makes Jongin burst into laughter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 2010

Jongin starts dating girls.

It’s hard not to wince whenever he tells Junmyeon stories of how his dates went, but Junmyeon keeps the smile painted on his face. It wasn’t Jongin’s fault that he didn’t feel as Junmyeon did. Maybe someday, Junmyeon thinks. Maybe someday it will become easier, and the longing in his chest will stop leaving him breathless.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m doing something wrong, somehow.”

Junmyeon looks up from his homework. Jongin is lying on the floor of his bedroom, and Junmyeon tries not to pay too much attention at how his friend’s hair splays out on the floor, catching the afternoon light that pours in from the window.

“I can’t seem to get into it,” Jongin continues.

“What are you talking about?”

“Girls!” Jongin cries as he sits up. “I keep going out with girls that I think are pretty, girls that I think I’ll like, but I just…never do. I mean, when you’re dating someone, you’re supposed to have butterflies in your stomach when you hold their hand, right? Your heart is supposed to go all erratic and when you’re kissing them, right?”

“And?

“And I don’t feel that,” Jongin sighs in frustration. “It’s really annoying. I want to be in love like everybody else.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right one?“ Junmyeon offers.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “No .” He lays back down on the floor. “How did you even figure out that you like guys?”

“I just did.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Junmyeon stares at his friend’s doodle-filled notebook infront of him. There’s a cottage in the middle of the page. It has a blue roof and walls made of bricks. There’s a small chimney poking out from the roof, puffing out a thin stream of smoke. “I… I think so.”

“No fair!” Jongin sits up again. “How come you get to know how it feels to fall in love?”

It’s Junmyeon who rolls his eyes this time. “It’s not like I could control it, you know.” I wish I could.

“How do you know you love him?”

“I just do.”

“Have you kissed him?”

“No.”

“Have you held his hand?”

“…Yes…”

“And how did it feel?”

Junmyeon looks into Jongin’s eyes. “Like I’m flying and being grounded at the same time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

January 2011

The soft ringing of his phone rouses Junmyeon from his sleep. He frowns at the screen. “Jongin, what is it?” he hisses.

“Junmyeon, can you come out? Please? I’m at the park. Under the peach blossom tree.”

“Jongin, it’s 2 ing am.”

“I know, but please. Please. I need to see you.”

Junmyeon grunts in annoyance and hangs up. He had never been good at saying no to Jongin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The air is frigid, and Junmyeon mentally curses Jongin for choosing to meet up outdoors in the middle of winter. He pulls his coat tighter around him and trudges on until he sees the peach blossom tree. Sure enough, Jongin is there, pacing back and forth infront of the bench. He must have sensed Junmyeon’s presence, as he looks up and catches his eye. Jongin stops in his tracks and remains still as Junmyeon makes his way toward him.

“Well?” Junmyeon demands. “What did you call me out here for?”

Jongin just stares at him, blinking slowly as if he were in a daze.

“It’s freezing, Jongin, and I’m sleepy. Start talking.”

“I…I’ve been thinking,” he starts. “About what you said. That maybe I haven’t met the right one.”

Junmyeon stills. “And?”

Wordlessly, Jongin steps towards him. “I think I have,” he whispers as he raises his hand to brush away a snowflake in Junmyeon’s hair. “I think I met that person, a long time ago. Right here, under this tree.”

Junmyeon’s breath catches.

“Those things I didn’t feel for those girls I dated, I think I always felt them for you. But I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I thought…I thought it was normal to be like that towards a friend. I thought it was normal to be that comfortable with you, yet horribly awkward with everybody else. I thought it was normal to like hugging you, to feel like there's something missing whenever I let go of your hand…”

Junmyeon steps back. “Jongin, what are you saying?”

“Myeonnie. I think I like guys, too.”

And with that, he walks toward Junmyeon, who can only stand frozen as Jongin leans in to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, shy and too short-lived.

“No, not guys.” Jongin shakes his head. “I think I like you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013

 

It somehow became a silent agreement for them to hide their relationship. Junmyeon’s parents know about and accept his uality, but Jongin could not say the same for his mother.

College came as a huge relief. They both decide to enroll at a college across town. Jongin, who has a car, can afford the half-hour drive. Junmyeon decides to move out of his parents’ house and try living on his own. He rents an apartment near their university, which becomes his and Jongin’s informal place.

Junmyeon takes up Korean History. He tries not to cry when Jongin tells him he’s taking up Business Management instead of Architecture.

“I’ll keep drawing,” Jonign assures him. “And when Eomma retires, I’ll even invest on a firm.”

 

Dates usually involved driving at least two hours from town. Sometimes, when they don’t have time, they go to Junmyeon’s apartment and spend the day in, just watching movies or working on their school requirements together.

Having dinner outside, holding hands in public, announcing their relationship… it’s all out of the question, not when Jongin’s mother remains a huge figure in the business sector. Not when Jongin remains half a celebrity, and anyone of Jongin’s mother’s associates could happen to see them. Not when Jongin all but trembles at the thought of disappointing his mother.

Their relationship leaves much to be asked, but Junmyeon is content. Jongin’s hand is warm. His eyes shine whenever he looks at Junmyeon. His hands have long outgrown Junmyeon’s, but he doesn’t mind. He likes how his fingers fit in between his.

They spend hours in bed, just talking to each other. Junmyeon would tell him of how he dreams of travelling to countries far away, of learning about other people, of knowing the little nuggets of knowledge buried under history books and the passage of time.

Jongin talks about his frustration with his course, of how boring it got listening to numbers he did not care knowing about. He talks about how he will prove himself to his mother, and afterwards tell her about Junmyeon. Surely, she would be accepting then? After all, Jongin would have already done what she wanted him to, achieved what she demanded him to.

It’s all unfulfilled wishes for him, dreams set aside to please his only family. The present is bleak, filled with secrecy and caution. But the future…it looks much better. There, perhaps, they will be free.

But for now, for now…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 2014

Junmyeon opens the present, and frowns at the thick material. He pulls it out. It’s a gray wool sweater with a cartoon bear on its front. He can’t stop the surprised laughter from his lips.

“Jongin, it’s the middle of summer,” he whines.

“Oh, come on, just look at that bear,” Jongin argues. “Doesn’t it remind you of me? Doesn’t it just melt your heart and fill it warmth? You always get cold during winter, consider this as a pre-winter gift.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “You are so lame.”

Jongin grins cheekily. “You love me though.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I love you too,” Jongin coos, pinching Junmyeon’s cheeks before kissing him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2015

It’s one of those rare long weekends, and Junmyeon uses the opportunity to visit his parents. They ask him about his studies, to which he answers easily.

“How are you doing with Jongin?” his Eomma asks afterwards, and Junmyeon slightly chokes on his food.

“I see him from time to time, Eomma,” he answers. “We can’t really hang out together much because we have different schedules and their building is far from mine…”

His Eomma simply hums and gives him a look. She smiles at him, and in that split second Junmyeon knows. She knows. 

“Well, tell him to take care of himself when you see him then,” she says, before giving Junmyeon and imperceptible wink.

 

 

 

 

From Jongin :) 

Myeonnie, when are you heading back? I’m stuck with Eomma and her investors until the end of the weekend.

 

 

From Myeonnie

I’ll go back on Sunday evening, I need to rest up before facing school again >.<

 

 

From Jongin :) 

Perfect! I’ll drive you, then. I’ll crash at your place. I’m sure Eomma will be too sick of my face to mind too much. Meet me by that peach blossom tree 6pm?

 

 

From Myeonnnie

Okay~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s already 7pm.

This was strange. Jongin was never late. It was one of the actually nice habits that his mother managed to teach him. Even when traffic was bad, Jongin could be counted on to arrive on time, because he always left an hour before his schedule.

Junmyeon sends text after text, but receives none in reply. He even tries calling, but his calls get dropped. He sits on the bench, arms folded to his chest to keep the cold out.

Junmyeon’s phone finally rings. He frowns at the unknown number. His fingers are stiff from the cold, but he manages to swipe his finger across the screen.

“Hello?” he says uncertainly into the phone.

“Junmyeon.”It’s Jongin’s voice. But it’s suspiciously thick. Junmyeon is about to ask him if he’d caught a cold, but a stifled sob from the other end halts his voice. “Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon never thought he would hear his name being said like this, in half a wail and half a plea. It crushes his lungs out of air, makes his heart feel like it’s being ripped. “Jongin, why are you crying?” he asks nervously. 

“Junmyeon, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“Jongin, you’re scaring me.” He can’t keep his voice from trembling this time. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He hears Jongin take a deep breath, but it ends in a soft whimper. He doesn’t say anything, not for a while.

“Eomma found out.”

The cold from the winter night felt like a warm blanket compared to the ice that grips Junmyeon’s chest.

“Eomma found out,” Jongin repeats. “She’s been getting suspicious, so she paid someone to unlock my phone. She saw our pictures, our messages, everything. She was so angry at me, Junmyeon. She says she didn’t raise me to be—to be a goddamned . She—she’s making me go to Seoul.”

“Oh my god, Jongin,” Junmyeon says. “Where are you? I’ll go to you right now.”

“You can’t!” his voice is desperate, panicky. “You can’t Junmyeon. I can’t be with you.”

“Jongin, it’s all right—“

“No!” Jongin cries. “You don’t understand. Eomma, she… She’s arranged for me to marry a girl. If I don’t… she’ll disown me.”

All the fight drains out of Junmyeon at the mention of that word, that one word that Jongin was terrified of. It didn’t matter anymore, because Junmyeon knew he could never win against that word, that fear that was too deeply embedded in Jongin’s heart.

This was their end.

“Can’t you… Can’t you fight her this once, Jongin?” For me?

“You know I can’t, Myeonnie. I can’t…”

Myeonnie. He loved it whenever he called him that. But tonight it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“But after I’m married, maybe we can—“

“No,” Junmyeon cuts him off. “No. Your fiancée does not deserve that. And I don’t deserve that. You have to learn to live with your decisions, Jongin.”

He hears him cry on the other end of the call, his sobs coming out muffled –he must be stifling them with an arm. He must still be at their house, if he’s trying to be quiet like this. Junmyeon can see him in his head—he’s probably sitting on the floor, hugging his knees and leaning on his bed for support.

“You’re right,” Jongin says after calming down. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who will hold your hand, someone who can say they love you out loud. You deserve someone who will never be ashamed of who he is when he’s with you. I’m… I’m none of those.”

“Why can’t you be?” Junmyeon asks feebly. “Why can’t you be that someone?”

There is only silence on the other end of the line.

Junmyeon looks up to the sky.

The view is magnificent, almost magical. The floating dots of snow look like fairy lights against the dark wintry sky. His eye focuses on the branches above him, long rid of their leaves and instead covered with glistening ice. He wonders how this tree does it, seemingly dying and coming back to life again and again. He wonders if it gets tired of being barren, if it ever gets tired of waiting for spring.

Junmyeon shakes his head. Of course it wouldn’t. Because it’s a tree. And trees don’t have hearts that break when they’re left behind.

“I need to be away from you,” Junmyeon breathes into the phone. “I can’t see you anytime soon. You know why right? It’ll hurt too much. So unless you are willing to give it all up for me, please don’t look for me. I’ll reach out to you by myself someday, when I’m ready to face you again.”

“Junmyeon, I…”

“Be happy, Jongin.”

He ends the call.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2015

Junmyeon spares one last look at his bare apartment. The last of his things are in the boxes at his feet. He wistfully glances at where his old couch used to be. He can almost see two figures leaning on it, sitting on the floor with their shoulders touching, hands intertwined between them.

He closes his eyes and says goodbye to the memory.

Inside he leaves his phone, his keys, and a gray wool sweater.

With a hint of finality, he steps out and locks his door.

He doesn’t see the phone light up and ring.

It rings intermittently for hours, until the battery dies out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 2019

 

Junmyeon is not sure how his feet brought him here. He’d only been walking around his hometown, breathing in the sights he hasn’t seen in a long time.

Somehow, he’s right here, infront of a tree he never thought he’d have the heart to see again. He smiles sadly as the memories flash through his mind.

There are small snowmen lined up at the base of the tree. Some of them were breaking apart, some were half buried in snow. There is one that looks like it’s only been made minutes before, and Junmyeon gives it an admiring pat before standing back up.

He sits on the old bench. It’s too windy and cold out to be sitting here, and people passing by are giving him looks of confusion. He looks so out of place. Perhaps to them he was lost, but he wasn’t lost. Underneath this tree, he would never be lost. Because this was their tree. And no matter how much time went by, this would always be their tree. And under this tree they would always find each other.

Junmyeon sighs. He really should stop pining for what was in the past, for what was forever beyond his grasp. He can only reach so far without being met halfway. Maybe someday, he will have that. But for now, he should forget.

 

 

He stands up and starts walking away, but finds himself being pulled back.

Arms embrace him from behind, and the scent of chocolates invade his chest.

“Hello.” The voice is soft, apologetic, and achingly familiar. “Are you lost, too?”