It was magical.

How pale the amber of the sky at sunset, like light shining through honey. How the bustling city seems so distant, like sounds are muted and hushed. How the dust accumulated through time, like memories being forgotten and remind you at the same time.

It was magical.

The way their feet brushed against each other under the sheets in the early morning. The way he sighed his name against his shoulder. The way he slipped his fingers under his oversized sweaters and remind him of how lucky he got to be the one touching his skin.

It was magical.

He imagined he’d meet the love of his life in some romantic place--- like maybe on a train, or in a café, a museum, even in the library or a bookstore--- and they would fall in love from the very first glance.

You cannot blame him. He knows from the very beginning he is a sap for romantic stuff; imputing it to the countless romantic books he had read and movies he had watched and cried to.

But then, he met him in the most mundane and unromantic place possible and everything he has just imagined and daydreamed was wrong.

Thirty years ago, there was a boy standing in front of a fountain, alone--- wearing the cutest dungarees he had ever seen partnered with a white and pink hoodie--- and he didn’t even know what had come to him and kissed him on the forehead and then ran away.

But it was magical.

They never met again until a couple of years ago. Little did he know that the same boy, he kissed in front of the fountain, was sitting two rows behind him in English and he didn’t even know the first time he heard him say his name, that he would be repeating it for the rest of his life.

They had absolutely no way of knowing that three decades after that they would wind up together.

Coincidence? Fate? Destiny? Nevertheless, indeed it was magical.

 

“Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?” the younger man beside him asked out of nowhere, “Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences,” eyes boring the old photograph he has at hand.

He just smiled at the question blurted out in the air, “I don’t think two souls find each other by just a mere accident.”

That earned him an inquisitive look from the younger lad--- head tilting to his left, curious eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and pouting lips.

“Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before---”

“---before they are even born,” continued the younger lad. “F. Scott Fitzgerald, right?” he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he sees the way the older male looks at him in disbelief.

“What? Not because I am not that wide-reader, doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about his works,” he whispered defensively.

“I didn’t say anything,” the dark-haired male rebutted, corner of his mouth quivering trying to stop the fits of giggles trying to escape past his lips.

“Your face says everything,” lips in an obvious pout, arms crossed on his chest.

And he looked at him softly, gently grabbed the younger’s wrist and pulled him closer to him until their chests are flushed together.

The other sighs contentedly, sunk in deeper in the dark-haired male’s hold. He felt how the other male tucked him beneath his chin, and murmurs an unintelligible word blocked by his brunette locks. He felt safe. Always.

 

“I love you,” the older male mumbled above whispers, too gentle for the other to hear.

He looked at him tenderly, and he just loved him, and oh God, it terrifies the hell out of him. It terrifies him on what he would do for the other lad. The way he returned like autumn, and how he falls every single time.

Fallen.

He had fallen for his laugh, which is utterly contagious. He had fallen for his smile, which makes him giddy for no apparent reason. He had fallen for their late-night talks, when 1am arrives far too quickly. He had fallen for their jokes only the two of them understands, which he will remember days later and still burst into laughter.

Sighed.

The younger lad noticed the change of atmosphere; the way the older male looks at him, the way he tightens his hold in his wrist.

“Why?” he followed the other’s line of vision and found himself looking at the blanket of stars draping the whole sky through their penthouse’s floor to ceiling window.

“I just think that the stars are aligned for us to be together,” he replied.

“How did you say so?”

“Back then, I hold onto this small, childish hope that there’s someone out there in this crazy, wild world so completely, utterly meant for me even the stars will sigh, ‘at last!’ in relief at our meeting.”

The younger male twisted his body away from the other’s hold to have a better look at him. He looked at him like he was searching for something, anything; and as if he found whatever he was looking for he smiled gently.

“You are an idiot,” he shook his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

And that put a big smile on the older male’s face. The younger does not say “I love you” like a normal person. Instead, he will laugh, shake his head, and then will give him a small smile, and say, ‘you are an idiot’ and the older male has come into terms with that.

“I love you too, Jae”

They completely enjoyed each other’s warmth under the crisp air of March evening, watched the bustling of the city beneath them. The moon being the only witness of their love.

“Hyung?” he hummed as a response.

“What’s the reason why you liked me?” the question made Jaebeom stop his mental reverence.

“There is no reason,” he replied, though he noticed how Youngjae’s face contort into a puzzled look, an amalgam of confusion and maybe hurt.

Before the younger can say anything, he continued; arms reaching out to touch the younger’s cheeks, thumb gently caressed the mole under his eye, “There is no reason. There should be no reason. If you love someone because of a reason, when that reason is gone, your heart will change too.”

He felt the younger male’s hand atop of his, “Jae, I love you without a reason. I love you because you are you.”

“I can see that quote somewhere in one’s pinterest wall, written in cursive, “Youngjae jokingly said hands drawing in circles as if imitating a longhand writing. “Why did I even say yes to a sap?” cheeks dusted pink, eyes now eyeing their dirty shoes.

“Because you love this sap?” Jaebeom questioned back and pinched the sides of the younger male to make Youngjae look at him.

“True,” the younger lad pretended and nonchalantly answer despite how warm his cheeks at the moment.

 

“Where did you find that anyways?” he asked after a while, hand reaching out for the others.

“This?” Youngjae answered as he eyed the old photograph that has forgotten on one of his hand, “Mom, send me some of my old photographs she found when she was packing up the stuff for moving.”

Jaebeom reached out for the photograph, smiled at it like he was enchanted by a simple piece of an old paper.

It was a pretty old photograph particularly taken by a negative film camera; sides in vignette and dreamy haze was filling the colors. 
Wistful, nevertheless.

There was a playfulness in nature, in the skies, woodland, and soil. The early morning sunlight, soft and diffused, gave way to the first strong rays of the day, the ones that bring true warmth. The wind had lost its bite, it had become ambient, congenial, blowing branches, and tousling the hair of pedestrians--- but no longer stealing their warmth.

It was clearly a candid snap of a four-year old Youngjae in front of a marbled fountain wearing dungarees and some sort of two-toned hoodie looking shocked as an unknown boy maybe a few years older than him, who wore a white shirt and washed jeans, kissed him on his forehead.

Spring from thirty years ago.

 

Jaebeom does not know when or how Youngjae crept slowly on his life--- was it thirty years ago? Or 15 years ago at his English elective class?

But he saw it. Everything.

Them getting married, moving in together, cuddling on the couch, waking up to good morning kisses, having arguments, making up after, cooking their favorite food, smiling for no reason, annoying each other when they got bored, adopting the cutest babies, watching them grow up, never leaving each other side.

He sees them together.

Jaebeom may not be the first person he loved. Youngjae may not be the first person he looked at with a mouthful of forevers. Both known the feeling of loss like a sharp piercing edge of a knife. Yet, their love came unannounced at the middle of the night. Their love came when they almost given up on asking love to come.

And Jaebeom thinks that has to be part of some miracle, stars aligning their fates together, or some deity weaving their story to be as one.

“And I thank our stars for that day,” Jaebeom mumbled as he put his hands on either side of Youngjae’s face, and then the room falls away. He studied once again the beauty of the younger’s eyes--- warm honeyed caramel. He knew each line of his face. He leaned in closer to him and caressed his cheek with his hand, sliding his fingers back into his light brunette hair. Jaebeom moved slowly, while the younger waited, breathlessly, to be kissed.

And he kissed him, like Youngjae was the air and he couldn’t breathe. He kissed the younger thoroughly. This was as close as two bodies can get, figuratively and literally. Youngjae have this extraordinary energy on him the consumes and calms Jaebeom all at once. The way the younger dismantle his defenses and challenge him at every turn that it helped him to become stronger and a more passionate person.

Couple of years back, fifteen years to be exact. Jaebeom promised to himself he would never fall in love with the younger lad. But damn, it was three am--- caffeine induced systems, books on their laps, tired eyes--- and they were laughing way too hard that he felt so happy for the first time, and that was the moment Jaebeom knew he was screwed.

And he was more than glad he took the jump. Because sometimes all you have do to is go for it. As now and then, life will not offer you love at first sight. For what life offered him was like a soul recognition; like, there was something unusual about them, something deeply spiritual. Beautiful. Crushingly so.

Thoughtlessly, Youngjae’s arms found their way around Jaebeom’s neck, locking together before he ran his fingers through his soft locks, whilst Jaebeom’s hands run down his spine. Because to Youngjae, Jaebeom was the risk, the mystery, and the most certain thing he’d ever known. It was like the first time they kissed one another. He could swear, he heard their souls whisper ever so quietly the two simple words--- ‘Welcome Home.’

Slowly, taking their time like there’s no place, they’d rather be.

Jaebeom made those minutes and moments matter. It’s was not a race. Leaving marks on the younger’s body. Left his mark on his heart and memory.

Making heats where their body would meet. Deliciously unpretentious, relaxing, and slow. The way they fall into one another so naturally like their love was carved of the earth. There are constellations bursting at their fingertips in every touch. Bodies in tune. Hearts crooning the same old song. They both thought, that maybe, this--- this is what the universe planned for them. Youngjae knows it. Jaebeom knows it.

Hot and flushed. Breathless. The feeling of being curled up in Jaebeom’s arms with their fingers intertwined and the soft feel of his breath on the younger’s neck can never be put into words.

Because there is no accidental meeting between souls, that is for sure.