Melt Me (My Heart is Frozen)

Anyone else would be ecstatic to be in his place.

Kibum, however, is out of his depth. He’s never one to turn down work – in fact he’d requested for this particular assignment – but this might be one time he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

He can appreciate how entitled he sounds, even to himself. To be in beautiful Okinawa, all expenses borne by his company, tasked with nothing more than to enjoy himself and write an article about it, is nothing short of blessed. There’s a long list of people who would happily write the same article for free; for nothing more than clout and likes on Insta.

The thing is, Kibum is not much of a travel blogger. He loves travelling – who doesn’t – but he’s not the sort to hunt down ‘experiences’ or have a bucket list of things to do in each destination. The only reason Kibum had lobbied for this assignment was because of his ex. Chaejin had been planning to go to Okinawa to visit his grandmother and Kibum was so proud of himself when he scored the job; apart from Chaejin’s travelling expenses, everything else would be covered by the company. It would have been a free holiday for the two of them, a chance to get closer and be happy together.

That plan went spectacularly to hell, Kibum muses absently, not dwelling on the thought because the wound is still fresh, still painful. Wasn’t that what people always said? That life never goes to plan? Kibum certainly never planned to spend the tail-end of a wet and miserable autumn in a foreign country moping over Chaejin.

It’s hard enough having the shadow of his failed relationship hanging over him, but that’s not the end of his woes. The article itself is a challenge. His task is to write about Okinawa off the beaten track. He’s supposed to find new places to write about, not the usual beaches or nightlife that people usually associate with Okinawa. Kibum had intended to rely on Chaejin or his grandmother’s knowledge of the area initially, so he hadn’t bothered with research. Afterwards, he couldn’t look up anything about Okinawa without flashing back to the night of the break-up, so here he is, fresh off the plane, trying to figure out what to do next.

The blogs he’d consulted were of little help. The ones in English and Korean all focused on the basic tourist experience and the ones in Japanese were beyond his skill to decipher.

He hasn’t even figured out where to go, let alone how to get there.

Wit a sigh, Kibum takes a sip of his coffee, relishing how it burns its way down his throat, and resumes his task of googling local attractions. In order to facilitate his task of finding out-of-the-way attractions, the company had booked him a hotel in Nanjo, away from the main tourist hubs of Naha and Okinawa. Travelling anywhere requires more planning so that he doesn’t blow through his transportation allowance.

When Kibum had voiced his concern about departing for Okinawa unprepared, his best friend Sookyung had suggested consulting the locals instead. She’d sounded so cavalier about it too, as if Kibum is so silly not to have thought of it himself.

If only she were here now, Kibum wishes viciously. He’d like to offer that perpetually optimistic bastard the choices open to him and see her make something of it.

‘Here’ is a Lawson conbini down the road from his hotel. Sharing the small store with him are two female tourists of unidentifiable origin, speaking in a non-English language that Kibum can’t place.

The other table is occupied by a pack of young men. They’re speaking in Japanese and dressed semi-formally, and Kibum guesses that they’re locals. Sadly, they’re not the sort of locals Sookyung was talking about; he’s caught a couple of really nasty swear words despite not understanding the content of their conversation and there’s something about their tone of voice and the boisterous way they speak that sets him on edge. These are the sort of men that men like Kibum do well to avoid.

It’s such a pity though, Kibum thinks with a sigh. Most of them are pretty good-looking; in particular, the one with hair dyed platinum blonde. It’s not a shade that flatters most people, but he’s one of the rare ones.

As if he’s sensed Kibum thinking about him, the guy glances up from his breakfast of instant ramen and looks straight into his eyes. Kibum drops his gaze back to his phone immediately, embarrassed to have been caught looking.

Back to work.

The girl at the front desk of the hotel had hesitantly mentioned a seafood market nearby when he’d asked about attractions within walking distance. It’s supposed to be a good place to get fresh sashimi, octopus and kelp patties – which can be said of any market on this damn island – so he might as well get off his arse and check it out instead of mindlessly scrolling through stale travel blogs.

He just has to figure out a route to the market. The roads here are pretty confusing, but he’s been looking at the map of the area for the past half hour and he’s pretty sure he can find it with minimal fuss.

Satisfied, Kibum finishes the remainder of his coffee and disposes of the cup in the bin by the entrance, returning the cashier’s greeting as he steps outside-

-and nearly runs into someone’s back. Specifically, a certain someone with platinum blonde hair. Kibum had been so engrossed in his map that he hadn’t noticed the group of men leaving.

Kibum catches himself just before he crashes into the man, stumbling a little, and the guy turns around. He’s got a lit cigarette between his fingers and he quirks an eyebrow – a nearly non-existent eyebrow – as he exhales through his nose.

“Sorry,” Kibum offers in English, even though the guy probably has no idea what he’s apologising for, and steps around him.

With that embarrassing encounter out of the way, Kibum is free to walk away without giving any further thought to this random convenience store, the bunch of people he’d briefly shared it with and the admittedly handsome stranger he nearly ran into. And he almost does so.

Almost.

Something makes him stop in his tracks and prompts him to turn back, to ask the still-smoking stranger “Sorry, may I ask a question?” in what little Japanese he knows.

The stranger hesitates for a moment, so long that Kibum nearly has time to regret asking, before nodding yes. He takes one last exhale and stubs the cigarette out underfoot, giving Kibum time to formulate his question.

“Do you know the way to the Ojima Imaiyu Market?”

“Oh, yes,” the man says, this time with no hesitation at all.

“Is it…” Kibum wants to ask whether it is worth visiting, but his Japanese is too basic for that. “Is it good?” he finally asks, adding “for tourists?” when the man’s face scrunches up in confusion.

The response Kibum gets isn’t one he’s expecting.

“Are you Korean?” the stranger asks, in pitch perfect Korean, and Kibum is baffled why he didn’t recognise his own countryman earlier; it’s so obvious now, from the shape of his face to his fashion to the way he carries himself.

“Yeah!” Kibum is relieved and overjoyed at the same time. Finally, here’s someone he can easily communicate with. “Wow, it’s so nice to meet a fellow Korean. Uhm, have you been to the Ojima market? I was just wondering whether it’s worth visiting.”

“Do you want to buy seafood?”

“Not really.” Kibum sighs, wondering whether it would be okay to burden this stranger with his own incompetence. The man seems to be in a pretty accommodating mood so far, so Kibum decides to push his luck just a little further. “It’s just that I have to write an article on like, the hidden treasures of Okinawa… you know, stuff that’s not really known to tourists yet, and I’m at a complete loss. I was supposed to have a guide, but he bailed on me at the last minute.”

“Ahhh, I see,” the guy replies, rubbing his chin in contemplation. He doesn’t seem to mind Kibum’s imposition on his time. “Hmmm… it is worth visiting one fish market in Okinawa, but they’re all pretty much the same. If you ask me, tourists aren’t usually aware that Okinawa has a lot of ancient ruins. The most popular ones are in Nanjo so you don’t even have to travel far.”

Visiting ancient castle ruins sounds exactly like a touristy thing to do, but who is Kibum to argue? He’s the genius who’s asking a Korean person – who might be on holiday just like him – for information about a Japanese island.

“That sounds great,” he replies politely, mentally moving these ideas to the lower rung on his short, short ladder of places to visit.

But the guy shows no indication of having heard Kibum. “But if you’re willing to travel a little, you should definitely visit the Nakagusuku ruins in Nakagami-gun. The castle is the most intact of all the ancient ruins and there’s barely any tourists. They’re definitely out of the way, but they’re also definitely worth your time.”

“How do I get there?” the question slips out of Kibum’s mouth before his brain can filter it. “Sorry, that’s the last thing I’ll trouble you with. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

The man waves Kibum’s apology off. “The bus is the only way to get to Kitanagusuku, but you’ll have to take a cab between the station and the ruins…” he trails off, as if lost in thought, and Kibum thinks he’s done; he’s about to thank the man and head off when he says “You know what, I’m travelling in that direction anyway, so you can… I can show you the way.”

Is it his lucky day today, Kibum wonders. It would make his life infinitely easier to be guided by someone who seems to know the area. Still, Kibum puts up a half-hearted denial for the sake of propriety. “Oh no, that’s really too much to ask for. You don’t need to go out of your way-”

Again, the man waves off his insincere apologies. “I’ve got some errands to run in the area, so I can show you which bus to take and stuff, but you’ll have to get to the ruins by yourself.”

“That’s more than enough,” Kibum replies, sincere this time. He sticks his hand out. “I’m Kim Kibum, by the way. And thank you.”

The man looks at his hand as if handshakes are a strange ritual he’s not aware of before slowly – almost reluctantly – giving it a brief shake with his own. “Lee Taemin.”

*

“This is the bus station,” Taemin explains as they approach the station building. The walk is a little longer than Kibum had expected; having had only coffee as sustenance, he’s fallen behind Taemin by a couple of paces. It’s a little embarrassing, but on the plus side, it gives him a good view of the man’s beautifully black coat – and the freedom to stare without it being rude – to appreciate how much love and precision went into weaving the material and tailoring it so that it hangs just right. Would it be weird if Kibum asked him where the bought the coat?

Just then, a gust of wind sweeps through, practically blowing Kibum’s light jacket off his shoulders. That’s another aspect of the island that Kibum failed to research; the weather. Chaejin had mentioned in passing that the seasons were temperate compared to the mainland, so Kibum had packed light.

A strange look passes over Taemin’s face, confusing Kibum. What could he possibly be unhappy about?

Kibum picks up his pace, to catch up, and tugs his jacket back into place. His hand brushes against the sequins of his inner t-shirt and, with a sinking heart, Kibum can guess what Taemin saw that disconcerted him. His inner t-shirt is pink with a giant sequined rainbow heart in the middle. Rainbow imagery might fly over the head of his parents’ generation, but Taemin looks younger than Kibum and the only thing he’ll associate the rainbow with is the queer community.

Not that Kibum is ashamed of who he is – he wouldn’t have the t-shirt otherwise. It’s just a pity that after they part ways, Kibum’s memory of his kindness will always be tainted by this revelation of homophobia.

Kibum catches up to Taemin inside the station. “Do you have a bus pass?” he asks, showing Kibum his own. Kibum does, having purchased it at the airport. The bus is already there, so they rush to catch it. Taemin plops himself into a window seat towards the back of the bus and Kibum takes the seat next to him.

“This bus goes directly to Kitanagusuku, so you can catch it on the way back as well. It’s about… forty minutes?”

“Okinawa is a lot bigger than I expected,” Kibum remarks. He’d expected an island approximately the size of Singapore, where his company has its headquarters, only to have to travel for three-quarters of an hour to get to his hotel.

That draws a smile out of Taemin. “Yeah, a lot of my friends say the same thing.”

“So… do you like live here? Do you work here or are you just a very knowledgeable tourist?”

Taemin’s mood flips. His mouth curves downwards, his eyebrows furrow and he twitches uncomfortably before answering. “I live and work here… but I’m on a break right now.”

Kibum doesn’t know what to make of Taemin’s reticence, so he asks another random question in order to prevent an awkward silence from setting in again. “Ah, I see. What is it you do?”

If anything, that innocent question only darkens Taemin’s already dark mood. “Nothing much,” he replies coldly, looking out of the window. “Does it matter?”

“No, of course not,” Kibum responds on autopilot, ears burning with shame. He can’t imagine how he’s managed to offend Taemin with two simple questions, but he does know a dismissal when he hears one. On second thought, Kibum thinks, it’s not a mystery at all. His initial assessment of Taemin was accurate, no matter how much he’s been trying to pretend otherwise, and it’s only Taemin’s impeccable manners that’s leading him to help Kibum despite his dislike of everything Kibum represents.

Why did he have to wear that stupid t-shirt today?

Why is the world so cruel and intolerant?

Taking his cue from Taemin, Kibum abandons any attempt at communication and pulls out his phone instead. Instead of stewing in righteous anger and embarrassment, he might as well use this time to do some research on the ruins.

But first, social media. Kibum is a confessed social media addict; there’s hardly anyone in his field of work who isn’t. Tiffany, an old friend who’s recently ventured into modelling, has posted tons of photos on Insta of her latest endorsement so Kibum leaves a couple of positive comments under some of them. Namhyun, a video blogger that Key came to know at an event his company once held, has posted a few photos of his new puppy. It’s cute and Kibum feels the corners of his mouth lift. Perhaps he should get a dog. He’s definitely going to visit Namhyun as soon as possible to play with that pup.

Just as he’s about to start his research, Kibum’s shoulder is tapped. By Taemin. Confused, and more than just a little annoyed, Kibum looks up from his phone and raises a questioning eyebrow at the man. He’s done being friendly.

Funnily enough, Taemin no longer looks hostile. He gestures out of the window and leans back for Kibum to see. “We’re passing by Nakagusuku National Park,” he explains. “Most people just use the playground for their kids, but you can actually hike up the hill from the park. It’s a bit late today, but you can still try catching the sunset from the top of the hill. The view is amazing.”

Thanks to his adventurous parents, Kibum is no stranger to hiking. People are always surprised at his dexterity and stamina, usually having stereotyped him as a typical urbanite whose idea of exercise is walking to the nearest Holly’s.

“Are there trails?”

“Ah… no.” Taemin looks a little sheepish. “You kind of just pick your way up? I’ve done it before, it’s not too hard.”

“Alright,” Kibum replies, mentally crossing the hike off his very short list of things to write about. He doesn’t fancy getting lost in some foreign country without anyone to notice his absence.

“There’s also a shrine nearby. You’ll have to take a cab there from the bus station, but it’s closer than the ruins.”

“Does it allow visitors?” Kibum asks.

Taemin thinks for a while before shrugging. “I guess? I went once during some festival, it was definitely open to visitors then. Oh! Oh, I can’t believe I forgot, there’s a haunted hotel nearby!”

“Haunted hotel?”

Taemin looks excited. “Well, it’s not confirmed to be haunted. It’s an abandoned hotel. It’s really interesting, I’ve been there a few times with my friends. Security won’t let you stay after dark, but you can definitely take a lot of cool photos.”

What a nutter, Kibum thinks.

Just then, the conducts announces the station.

“Ah, that’s our stop.” Taemin points to the opposite window, speaking quickly. “The stop for the return bus is just across the road. It runs pretty late, so you don’t have to worry.”

He looks happier now, as if he’s relieved to finally be rid of Kibum. The thought stings – is he so awful that complete strangers dislike him after barely half an hour in his presence – but Kibum brushes it aside; he’s gotten what he needs from Taemin, despite the latter’s homophobia. He’s the winner of this encounter. It doesn’t matter what Taemin thinks.

“Thanks for helping,” Kibum says.

“It’s fine,” Taemin replies. “Good luck with your article.”

And then he’s gone, his long black coat billowing in his wake.

*

The ‘shrine’ that Taemin had mentioned is actually a sprawling temple complex specialising in car blessings and amulets. It’s old, well-maintained and definitely tourist-friendly. The monks Kibum sees have kind smiles on their faces and playfully pose for him. It’s a pity that he doesn’t know enough Japanese to ask them about the history of the temple.

He spends much more time there than he originally intended to. Just photographing the architecture is an effortful undertaking; it takes a few tries and practice for Kibum to get satisfactory shots of the beautiful red and gold hall and the stone sculptures around it. Because of the season, the trees match the sculptures in their red and gold foliage. The view is as impressive in person as it is picture perfect. A few leaves drift down – the temple is clean, so someone must be sweeping it regularly – and Kibum manages to get a shot of one mid-drift silhouetted against the temple’s arch.

There are things he doesn’t photograph too. A couple comes to get their car blessed.

He spends ages snapping shot after shot of the massive green-roofed pagoda silhouetted against the sky, bright blue now, and wonders how it might have been used in the past. He feels small and insignificant standing in front of it, in a good way. In a world where people are driven to inflate their egos, it is refreshing to feel humility instead.

There is something peaceful and calming about the temple. Kibum isn’t much of a believer in crystals and energies and whatnot, but he’ll admit that this place has good vibes. He can understand why people would come here to pray and meditate.

By far, his favourite place in the temple complex is the garden. It’s huge, with a neat flower lawn near the entrance that leads to a bamboo and evergreen forest further on. Big fat cabbage roses, in flame red and orange hues, demand admiration that Kibum is only too happy to provide. Osmanthus in bright orange and plum blossoms in bold pink hold him captive in the garden; the sight of a healthy, blooming flower is one of life’s simple joys, but what a joy it is. Perhaps this assignment is not without its merits, because Kibum would not have been able to see these beautiful flowers otherwise.

There is a lake in the forest, fringed by willow trees. Is it man-made or natural, Kibum wonders. Some koi swim leisurely, unafraid of him even when he leans closer to get a better look at them. They break the surface, and Kibum realises that they’re waiting for food.

He takes a moment to sit by the side of the path encircling the lake. The air is fragrant and heavy, as if he’s in an actual forest. It reminds him of old tales, of goddesses emerging from bamboo and dragon guardians.

It also reminds him of Chaejin. One of the things that had attracted him to Chaejin was their shared love of nature. Their early dates were made up of many weekends spent at the Botanical Gardens in Seoul. Kibum was always content to just enjoy the plants and flowers at the park, but Chaejin would always buy a little potted plant of whatever happened to catch his eye on a particular visit. That little difference was a sign of strife to come; of Kibum being content to just live life and Chaejin always chasing some elusive goal.

Perhaps he was just a series of goals to Chaejin too. Get Kibum on a date, get a kiss from Kibum, Kibum, move in with Kibum and then what? Chaejin must have run out of things to do with him.

Shaking off thoughts of Chaejin, Kibum goes through his photos and starts making notes about the temple’s features that he wants to put in his article.

The afternoon sun is high in the sky when he’s done. Even in the shade of the trees, Kibum feels warm, but he doesn’t feel comfortable taking his jacket off. Instead, he walks back to the entrance, hoping that a cab will be waiting to take him somewhere he can buy some lunch.

What he finds is a lot better. There are a few stalls outside the temple, selling food and drinks and knick-knacks. Kibum buys himself a refreshing iced lemonade and a simple bento box, and sits on one of the stone tables to eat his first meal of the day.

Despite Taemin’s enthusiastic recommendation, Kibum figures that he’ll give the hike and haunted hotel a miss. Instead, he’ll go straight for the castle ruins and head back to his hotel; if there’s still daylight left, he’ll go to the beach.

A family makes its way past him as he’s eating and planning. Three generations all together, parents and two teenaged children and one grandmother. The parents walk in front, chatting enthusiastically to each other. One teenager walks in the middle, morose. The second teenager and his grandmother bring up the rear, sharing a quiet conversation.

The sight of the boy and his grandmother brings up more memories of Chaejin. Chaejin was always proud of his Japanese heritage, saying that his fisherwoman grandmother had nothing to do with the brutal Japanese Occupation of Korea. How an Okinawan woman from a tiny fishing village had come to marry a Korean lecturer was a story Kibum had been eager to discover. Chaejin had promised that he’d get to hear the story straight from the woman herself; yet another promise that he would never keep.

The memory sours Kibum’s mood – and his appetite. Feeling guilty about waste, he dumps the remainder of his lunch in a bin and leaves.

*

Like the temple, the ruins of Nakagusuku castle are wide and sprawling. It’s a bit of a hike too, up the hill that it’s located on.

Kibum relishes the twingeing of his hamstrings as he walks up. He can use this as an excuse to skip the gym this week. Kibum’s never been a fan of exercise for the sake exercise alone, but it’s hard to indulge in hobbies like hiking and water-skiing on a writer’s salary.

There are no guides and very few signboards around the ruins. It preserves the ghostly, lonely atmosphere of the place, but Kibum can also see why it might repel tourists. Every country has its own pile of ancient rocks; it’s not the structures themselves that are of interest – unless one is a student of architecture – but the history that comes attached to those rocks. Who built them, who died protecting them, why they were abandoned. Bereft of the weight of the stories of the people whose lives revolved around them, the rocks lose their meaning.

Apart from a small group of Japanese people – probably mainlanders, since they seem to be tourists too – the site is empty. A few birds sit in the trees and chirp undisturbed, and Kibum realises with a start that it’s been years since he’s heard birdsong. He’ll never be anything other than a city boy, but he can remember birds being a part of life when he was a child. His grandmother would give them leftover rice from their meals. Where have they all gone?

As he contemplates the dearth of nature in city life, Kibum wanders around the ruins and takes a few shots, trying to find good angles.

The remains of a watchtower are the central point of the ruins. Kibum walks around the perfectly preserved circular structure of the base a few times, first on the outside then on the inside, pausing to take snapshots of sunlight streaming through crudely cut windows.

He’s lining up one such shot when a bird lands in the frame. Kibum tuts and looks up; he doesn’t want to have to move and lose the angle, but the bird is preening itself and shows no inclination to leave.

“Shoo!”

The bird turns to him. If birds could have expressions, then this one looks completely unimpressed with Kibum’s pathetic half-hearted yell.

“SHOO!” Kibum calls out again, louder this time. The bird spreads its wings and shrieks at him - and for a moment he thinks he’s about to be attacked – before taking off.

It’s a seagull. That shriek gave it away; few other birds are as shrill and annoying. What’s a seagull doing so far inland, Kibum wonders, before realising that he’s probably not as far from the sea as he’s presumed.

Kibum finds a window in the direction that the gull came from and sure enough, he can make out a thin strip of beach and lapping waves in the distance. Perhaps he won’t have to travel all the way back to his hotel in Nanjo to take a walk on the beach after all.

Since there’s no one to stop him, Kibum decides to just take a hike down the hill and walk in the direction of the beach. If he comes up against any obstacles he can’t cross, like a barbed wire fence, he can just double back and return the way he came.

The path takes Kibum by some sea-facing cliffs where long grass grows almost as tall as him. It’s obvious that the area doesn’t get much human traffic, and Kibum should be worried about how he’ll find his way back when the sun goes down, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to be arsed. He gets a good shot of the sun reflected on the sea, framed with grass. It’s one of the best shots he’s taken and he decides then that it will definitely go into the article.

The beach itself isn’t quite what Okinawa is famous for. The water is clean, but not crystal blue like the beaches in Naha and Moon Beach. The sand is coarse and deeply brown, littered with ocean detritus like driftwood and shattered shells. A few fishing boats dot the horizon, either coming home after a day’s work or heading out to catch the night critters like squid and octopus. There are very few people on the beach. It gives the place an oddly dystopian feel, as if the human world has somehow ceased to exist.

Undiluted by human noises, the steady, gentle roar of waves breaking on the shore is amplified. Kibum revels in the sound and in the salty scent of the air. Here, finally, he feels the weight of this assignment wash away. Chaejin and the stupid article, there’s nothing more he needs to do in this moment than to exist.

Kibum contemplates recording the sound of the waves, simple because of how unadulterated it is, but dismisses the idea quickly. There’s something magical about being on a beach that can never be replicated by a CD of ocean sounds and scented candles.

In the distance, Kibum spots another human. A man. He’s walking in the water and, Kibum notices with horror, he hasn’t bothered to roll up his jeans. They’re soaking wet halfway up his calf, visible every time he lifts his legs to take another step forward. It’s really none of his business what this random nutter does with his jeans, Kibum reasons with himself, but he can’t quite shake his bewilderment. What pleasure could the man possibly be gaining from getting his jeans wet that outweighs all of the discomfort and inconvenience he’ll have to face later on?

Perhaps he’s having a mental breakdown. Or perhaps he’s just barbaric, with no regard for the care of his clothes.

It’s a pity that his first impression of the man is such a negative one, Kibum thinks as he drags his eyes upwards, because he has a great arse. Not much of one, but pretty and perky nonetheless.

And a great figure too. Slim waist, broad shoulders, nice long neck and-

-platinum blonde hair.

It can’t be him. What are the chances, Kibum asks himself instinctively, expecting the answer to be ‘slim to none’.

Unfortunately, that is not the answer he gets. How many people have the exact same hair style and colour though, comes the answer from his own traitorous brain. The guy is also vaguely same-ish in terms of height and build as well, if he remembers correctly. Wasn’t Taemin also wearing light blue jeans, even if his beautiful black coat seems to have disappeared somewhere? And didn’t he mention that he had an errand to run in the area?

What are the odds, Kibum asks himself again.

Positive now that this wetter-of-jeans is Taemin, Kibum finds himself caught in a new dilemma. Should he say hello or just quietly walk past, which is surely to happen since Taemin is ambling along at a much slower pace than him?

Out of nowhere, his grandmother’s advice flashes through his memory. Gratitude should always be expressed, she used to say, no matter how small the deed. It teaches the recipient humility and rewards the kindness of the giver.

Thanks to Taemin, strange though he was, Kibum has got 3 things to write about and many beautiful photos to put in his article. And assuming he can’t find a single thing to do by himself tomorrow, he can always return here to write about the park and the haunted hotel. By any measure, Kibum owes Taemin a genuine thank-you at the very least.

A short jog closes the already narrow gap between them, and Kibum pulls abreast with the person walking in the water.

It is Taemin. He looks up when Kibum falls into step with him, and Kibum can see the exact moment Taemin recognises him, because he looks so taken aback.

“Hi!” he says cheerfully. “I was walking along the beach and I spotted you-”

“Are you following me?” Taemin’s voice is loud; anger and disgust radiate off him in waves. “Are you stalking me, you freak?”

Kibum’s face burns with embarrassment. Thankfully, there’s no one else around to bear witness to him being treated like a chewing gum stuck to the sole of a shoe.

Being called a freak, though, that infuriates him.

Kibum can be loud when he wants to be, and right now he wants Taemin to feel just half the embarrassment he’s inflicted on him - wants Taemin to stop yelling at him – so he cuts off the tirade with a yell of his own.

“I’m not ing stalking you!”

To his relief, it works. Taemin stops talking, though he looks no less angry than before.

“First of all, I don’t know who the you think you are that anyone would want to stalk you. I was up there-” Kibum points up in the vague direction of the ruins “-and then I saw this beach and came down. And then I recognised your dumb blonde head because this world is too ing small and I thought I’d say thank you for giving me some good tips. Here-” Kibum pulls his phone out, opens up his gallery and holds the phone up for Taemin to see as he scrolls through the hundreds of photos he’s taken today “-you can see for yourself that I wasn’t following you.”

“Oh,” is all Taemin has to say. His voice is quiet and he’s no longer radiating anger.

But Kibum is still angry. The word ‘freak’ still rings in his ears, reminiscent of all the times in his past when he’d been tormented by people who called him the same thing. “I’m not blind not to notice that you’ve been acting like you sat on a nest of ants around me ever since you saw my t-shirt, but news flash, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m attracted to every man that crosses my path or that I have so little control that I’d stalk random homophobic strangers!”

Taemin starts to say something, but Kibum has no interest in hearing him justify his prejudice. “So thanks again for the tips. Hopefully our paths never cross again.”

Having scored the last word in that argument, Kibum turns around and starts walking back the way he came.

“Wait!”

Kibum keeps walking.

He hears the dull thuds of feet hitting sand and then Taemin runs in front of him, holding his hands up placatorily. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry I called you a stalker. And I’m not a homophobe-”

Kibum snorts in disbelief. Taemin doubles down on his statement “Really, I’m not homophobic. I didn’t even notice your t-shirt until you mentioned it.”

Does he think Kibum was born yesterday? “Okay, fine,” Kibum replies, disgruntled and wanting to be rid of Taemin. “Apology accepted. Goodbye.”

“Let me buy you a drink, to make it up.”

That catches Kibum’s attention. Just a moment ago he thought Kibum was stalking him and now he wants to buy him a drink? His bipolarity is making Kibum’s head spin. But Kibum can’t walk away, because underneath the utter ridiculousness of the situation, Taemin had sounded sincere.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I was wrong, and I’m really sorry. I’ll feel horrible if I don’t make it up somehow. And I’ll take you to is a really cool beer garden, you can put that in your article too.”

It’s the perfect bait.

*

“I didn’t realise there was a craft beer movement in Okinawa of all places” Kibum comments, thoroughly enjoying his glass of Swan Lake Beer’s Amber Swan ale. It beats even Brewdog’s Lost Lager, which is the best pale ale Kibum’s tried so far. “Or that it was of such high quality.”

“It’s a place with a lost of hidden charms,” Taemin replies. He’s sipping on a more mainstream white Hoegaarden, which is not to Kibum’s liking but which is pretty tasteful nonetheless.

“So, do you regularly accuse people of being stalkers so that you can bring them to your friend’s pub or am I just lucky?”

That gets a shy smile from Taemin. “Oh my god, it’s so embarrassing. I’m glad my friends weren’t there or I’ll never hear the end of it.” His expression quickly becomes sober, though. “I guess I was being paranoid, huh?”

Kibum shrugs. It’s not like he knows anything about Taemin or his life to be able to confirm or deny that statement.

“It’s my job,” Taemin explains, even though Kibum hadn’t asked. “You thought I was anxious because of your t-shirt, but I really didn’t notice it at all. I got worried when you started asking me questions about where I live and what I do for work.”

Kibum doesn’t quite believe Taemin just yet, but his explanation is plausible. It also sounds ridiculous, like something out a spy movie, but Taemin says it with such a straight face that Kibum can’t do anything except reply in the same serious tone. “So, do you work for the government or something?”

All of a sudden, Taemin’s laughing again. “Oh no, not at all. I’m a dancer.”

“Oh.” Kibum tries connecting the random dots of Taemin’s story. If he’s a dancer, why would he be stalked? Unless he’s a stripper being stalked by some creepy client – but he doesn’t have that aura to him – or he’s downplaying his job, which involves more than just dancing. “Are you a pop star?”

“No, I’m just a dancer. I work with a theatre and sometimes I work with idol groups, but not all the time.”

Kibum nods, understanding. He’s outgrown his idol phase, so he only vaguely knows about fan culture these days. He remembers how there used to be news about sasaeng fans breaking into idol dorms and leaving messages in period blood, but he didn’t know that they’d started stalking back-up dancers too. “So the fans stalk you too?”

Taemin nods, grim. “It’s just this one group that I’ve been working with lately. I’ve never had any problem with fans before, they usually just ignore us, but for some reason this group’s attracted a really toxic bunch of fans. They broke into their tour bus, collected used tissue and posted it on social media, like, can you believe that?”

Kibum shudders. He can’t bear touching his own snotty tissues sometimes, let alone someone else’s.

“They gave the members teddy bears with spycams inside, which luckily set off a metal detector when the members went through security.”

“That’s pretty crazy.”

“Right? And they’ve started following us dancers too.” Taemin shakes his head. “I don’t know what they’re hoping to get from us. They broke into my colleague’s car and stole some CDs and merch that the band had signed for her. That was at the last concert. I guess I’ve been a little keyed-up since then.”

“And then I came along, asking about your work and popping up everywhere.” Kibum finally sees how this series of random events would have triggered an already cautious Taemin, and he can’t blame Taemin for reacting the way he did.

“Exactly!” Taemin becomes more animated then. “I had my suspicions from the moment I realised you were Korean, because they’re a Korean band and the crazy fans are Koreans… which I shouldn’t have, but you can see why, right?”

Kibum nods. “Well, let me swear hand on heart that I have absolutely no interest in idols or idol groups. I think the last idol I liked was BoA, and that was ages-”

“I’ve danced with her.”

“Oh my god, what was she like?” Okay, so Kibum’s not entirely over trash pop, but who cam blame him? “Wait, no, don’t tell me. I spent all of my pocket money on her albums when I was a kid, let me enjoy those memories. It would be a pity to discover that she’s evil or something.”

Taemin finds his reaction amusing, judging from the way he laughs into his beer. “Don’t worry, she’s really nice. Most idols are. But honestly, I’d rather work with the stuck up ones who do rehearsals competently than the friendly ones who think rehearsals are a fashion show or fanmeet.”

“So which type was she?”

“The best type,” Taemin replies. “Friendly and competent. It was just for one song. The idol who was supposed to dance with her injured himself, so her company hired me to fill in.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, I have no interest in idols-”

“Yeah, I know that now. Is my apology beer good enough to buy your forgiveness?”

It’s more than enough. The beer garden overlooks a section of the coast where a jetty is located, where a combination of fishing boats and yachts are docked, and it’s precisely the sort of hipster joint that his magazine’s clientele loves. Thanks to Taemin, Kibum has 4 places to write about. His article is more than halfway complete after only one day. By all counts, the score between them is settled.

Still, Kibum hands his phone to Taemin and says “Take a good shot and I’ll consider us even.”

He poses for his amateur photographer, who gamely snaps away from a variety f angles before handing the phone back.

“Good?”

His honest opinion spills from his mouth before his filter can kick in “Don’t quit your dancing gig just yet” and Kibum is mortified.

But Taemin just laughs, heartily with his head thrown back.

“Looks like you guys are having a good time.” Taemin’s friend Hayato, the owner and bartender of this lovely little joint, joins them at the table. “Can I get you guys anything else?”

Taemin looks to Kibum for answer. Kibum is a firm believer in the saying that it’s possible to have one beer but not two, and since he’s not looking to get drunk tonight he has to cut himself off now.

Only, Kibum realises, he’s reluctant to do so. Not because the pub has other craft beers that he wants to try, not because drinking cool beer by the seaside is the perfect way to end a long day, but because he’s really enjoying Taemin’s company.

“I’m good, thanks,” he replies, slightly unsettled by the realisation. He hands his empty bottle to Hayato and says “That was the best beer I’ve had in ages. If I’m ever in Okinawa again, I’ll be sure to drop by.”

“Please, feel free. Any friend of Taemin’s is a friend of ours.”

“Are you heading back to your hotel?” Taemin asks as they walk out of the pub. He pulls a folded bucket hat out of one of his pockets and jams it onto his head.

Kibum hadn’t planned on that specifically, but it is the most logical thing to do. “Yeah.”

“Walk you to the bus station? I’m going in a different direction, but it’s the only station around here.”

“Sure.”

The walk is a short one, thanks to Taemin’s knowledge of shortcuts through residential streets. Kibum catches a glimpse of the life of Okinawans; of neatly tended gardens and cats sunning in windows and little shoes lined up neatly by the entrance. The sun is setting and it’s getting colder, windier. Kibum feels like he can breathe easier and, just as the thought crosses his mind, he comes to an understanding as to why he feels that way.

The shadow cast by Chaejin has disappeared. It had followed him all the way to Okinawa, through the temple and up the hill, but it has been driven away by Taemin’s charismatic presence.

Selfishly, despite everything Taemin has already done for him, Kibum wants just a little bit more. He glances at Taemin, hoping to gauge his mood, only to catch him looking back. This time, it is Taemin who instantly drops his gaze.

“So… can I ask you one last work-related question?”

“Sure!” Taemin’s answer is overly enthusiastic, as if he’s glad for the diversion. “You can ask as many as you want, I really don’t mind.”

“Can you recommend a place for dinner? Something that’s-”

“-not famous amongst tourists?”

“Exactly,” Kibum replies, unable and unwilling to control the smile spreading across his face.

Taemin stops right in his tracks. “Actually, there’s a seafood hotpot place just down the road from here. It’s really good and reasonably priced. You have to try the mussel hotpot, it’s amazing. I dream of it for days after I’ve had it.” He points somewhere down the street opposite the bus stop. “Just follow the street until you see a shop with a giant cardboard octopus in the window.”

Kibum nods as if he’s paying attention, using the opportunity to calm his nerves that suddenly feel like wild horses waiting to run free. “Is it good enough to get you to accompany me for dinner? I’ll pay. If you don’t have other plans, of course.”

The heartbeats – one, two, three – that it takes Taemin to reply feel like an eternity.

“Yeah,” Taemin says. It’s a quiet answer, but one bare of pretense. There’s an undercurrent of curiosity in his eyes that Kibum is sure is reflected in his own.

*

The shop isn’t very impressive at first glance, but Kibum’s enough of a foodie to know not to judge based on appearances alone. He follows Taemin’s lead to sit at a plastic table, so small that their knees bump a few times. Despite the sparse comforts, the place is full of locals.

“The small hotpot is enough for one person,” Taemin explains “so we should get a large one.”

“Hmmm,” Kibum replies, not quite agreeing. Glancing around at neighbouring tables, he can see that the hotpot is certainly the star of the menu. However, there are other dishes that catch his eye too; in particular, at a table shared by three women dressed in the unmistakeable uniform of the Postal Service, there is a platter of what looks like grilled mushrooms. At a table occupied by a solitary elderly man, there is a plate of pickled seaweed. “We can order the small one and try some other stuff too? It’ll look better for the article that way.”

Taemin shrugs. “Fine by me. What do you want?”

He places the order with the lady running the shop after they agree on what to order. Kibum racks his brain for a topic of conversation, but there is barely any time for an awkward silence to set in – Taemin is not stand-offish, as Kibum first assumed, but introverted – before the lady comes back with their hotpot.

It is a glorious thing, this bubbling, steaming stew, earthy brown and rich with the earthy scent of miso and garlic and the saltwater scent of konbu and chock full of fat, sweet mussels still in their shell.

The silence that falls on the table after that is not awkward but respectful; there is little point to conversation when this sort of food deserves to be worshipped in silence, each mouthful a blessing from the universe itself.

He’s hungry, Kibum realises, as he eats without pause. He’s done a lot of walking on just coffee and a half-finished lunch, so it comes as no surprise, but the sensation of hunger is nonetheless strangely unfamiliar. And then, he understands.

He hasn’t been hungry in a long time.

When they’ve polished off most of the stew, the eryngii mushrooms arrive; thickly sliced, glistening with butter and crisped brown on the edges. Taemin’s chopsticks hover impatiently over the plate as Kibum tries to take an Instagram-worthy shot in an environment that is not built for it.

He looks up to see Taemin dabbing sweat off his forehead as he eats. Kibum’s sweating too, but he at least he doesn’t have a hat on. “Aren’t you going to take your hat off?”

“I don’t like having dyed hair,” Taemin replies. “It makes me stand out. You said you found me because of my hair, right?”

“Is that why you’ve been wearing that hat? Yah, you can take it off. This place is full of old people, not idol fans. Anyway, I recognised you because of your hair, but it wasn’t that that made me notice you in the first place. And I couldn’t… can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why on earth were you walking in the water without rolling your jeans up?”

Taemin looks surprised, as if Kibum’s asked him a completely unreasonable question – which he hasn’t – and he just shrugs as he removes his hat. Kibum notes with dismay that his lovely platinum hair is ruffled now. “Why not?”

“Because…” Kibum splutters, unable to put into words why casually getting one’s clothes wet isn’t normal human behaviour. “Because your jeans will be wet and sandy? And that’s uncomfortable and totally preventable with the simple, low-effort preventative measure of rolling up your jeans!”

judging by the wide, amused smile on Taemin’s face, he’s not insulted by Kibum’s interrogation at all. He pats the lower part of his jeans and wipes his hand on the table. “Well, it is sandy, but it’s not wet anymore. I guess I just didn’t notice?”

How can someone not notice being wet, Kibum wonders incredulously. “Also, the saltwater will ruin your jeans if you keep doing that.”

“How?”

“It’ll get bleached. You’ll end up with two tones-”

“Fashion!”

“Only if you live in the late 90s.” Kibum remembers something, putting an end to his banter. “I guess you really didn’t notice my t-shirt, huh?”

Taemin becomes serious too. “You still don’t believe me?”

This time, it is Kibum who shrugs in reply. “Then why did you frown at me when the wind blew my jacket open?”

“When did I frown-” Taemin starts, before remembering. “Oh, was it before we got to the bus station? I just thought you were badly dressed for the season. Like, we’re warm now, but as soon as we leave you’re going to freeze.”

“Don’t remind me.” Kibum knows he’s in for a rough time getting home. “For some reason I assumed Okinawa’s weather was almost tropical. It doesn’t make sense at all when you think about it, but I guess I didn’t stop to think about it.”

“That’s fine,” Taemin says quickly. “I hate research too. I usually leave it to my friends when we go on holiday.” He laughs a little. “The only problem is that they don’t like research too. That’s how we ended up in Hakone for the hot springs and we all found it too hot in like, ten minutes. The ryokan owners thought we were crazy for booking rooms with them when we spent all of our time travelling to other places.”

It’s a funny story, but Kibum feels disappointed with himself all the same. “It’s my job, though.” His superiors had always praised him for his professionalism and that’s something that Kibum has internalised over the years. He’s really let himself down this time. “It’s just…”

Taemin leans in, looking curious. Kibum guesses that his expression is not a good one, or maybe Taemin just likes gossip. Whatever it is, he doesn’t intend to rant about Chaejin and allow the other man to ruin even more of his life than he already has. Yet, there is a part of him that wants to talk about Chaejin, about his sorrow at the end of their relationship and all of the feelings he’s been hiding from his friends so as not to worry them.

He opens his mouth to speak, but when he sees Taemin, the words won’t come. Taemin’s just a stranger, a man he met in a conbini who’s been kind enough – probably because of their shared nationality – to help him navigate around Okinawa. He’s not going to ask him to play therapist on top of everything else. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Taemin replies. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s nothing spectacular, it’s just that I was supposed to make this trip with my ex.”

“Ah.” It’s barely a word, but somehow, it’s full of sympathy. Kibum looks up and sees Taemin looking straight at him. “It’s no big loss. You found your way without him, so you should be really proud of yourself. You don’t need him.”

Him. The way Taemin says it, so casually, without the slightest flinch or judgment, lifts a weight off Kibum’s heart that had dropped there ever since the wind exposed him. Taemin had said that he’s not homophobic and now, Kibum believes him.

“I don’t need him, but… we were together for four years. Lived together. We were this close to getting a dog.” Kibum picks at the last mushroom on the plate, which he had been saving for himself but which has now lost its appeal, and decides on a whim to take it and place it in Taemin’s bowl. “Here, finish this off.”

“Thank you.”

Taemin eats it and Kibum looks away, suddenly tired. Chaejin is like an energy vampire, even when there’s an ocean between them.

“Hey, do you want to get a drink and trash talk your ex?”

Taken aback, Kibum turns to Taemin, who looks absolutely sincere. Isn’t it late? Doesn’t he have anything else to do?

At Kibum’s long silence, Taemin shrugs and says “I mean, that’s what my friends always do in this sort of situation. I’ll buy? We can get sake and talk about what a dickhead your ex must be.”

“Let me guess, you know a place that I can put in my article?”

Taemin laughs heartily and Kibum finds himself laughing along. “Unfortunately, it’s just the conbini around the corner.”

*

“So…”

“So?” Kibum echoes, teasing Taemin. It’s cute how he’s determined to get Kibum to open up despite clearly having zero clue how to actually go about it.

“Bad break-up?”

“Is there such a thing as a good break-up?”

Taemin shrugs. “I guess… where you’re happy it’s over?”

Kibum drinks, avoiding the question. Is Chaejin happy now, without him? Is he somewhere in Seoul, sitting under the same sky as Kibum, having a drink and thinking about the trainwreck that he dodged?

“He said I’m cold,” Kibum finally answers. “That he feels, felt like he’s the only one trying to make the relationship work. It’s not like things were picture perfect before it ended, but…” he sighs, finding himself at a loss for words.

“You don’t seem cold to me,” Taemin replies. Kibum can’t tell if he’s being truthful or if he’s saying what he thinks Kibum wants to hear. “If he expects more, then he must have been one of those annoyingly clingy people. It’s better this way.”

When Kibum doesn’t reply, Taemin continues. “Like, I always tell my partners that they have to be okay with me being absent a lot because that’s the nature of touring.”

“And it works?”

“It’s usually a deal-breaker,” comes the honest reply. “Most people think they’re okay with an absent boyfriend, but they don’t really understand the meaning of absence. When I’m touring, I can’t spend an hour or so face-timing them or reply to texts regularly. It’s not that I don’t have the time, but I need my own space first.”

Kibum nods along, understanding. He hasn’t missed the way Taemin said ‘partners’ instead of ‘girlfriends’ but he’s not going to put much thought into that right now. It’s pretty common in his generation to use gender-neutral references, so he’s not going to waste time deciphering what Taemin had meant by ‘partner’, especially since it makes no difference to him one way or the other. “It must be pretty hard on you, then.”

“I’m more focused on work right now… anyway, we’re here to trash talk your ex. So, apart from being a total barnacle who can’t tell that people need space, what else is wrong with him?”

Kibum laughs a little and drinks some more, allowing the alcohol to warm him from the inside out. It is a cold night and he’s so jealous of Taemin’s warm, beautifully tailored coat. “Hmmm, let’s see. He chews loudly.”

“So gross,” Taemin replies.

“He wants to keep a huge dog in a flat, because he thinks little dogs are for girls.”

“Toxic masculinity.” Taemin shakes his head theatrically. “I bet he has a small .”

Kibum chokes on his alcohol and his laughter. “Oh my god, that’s so out of line!”

“I don’t hear you denying it. May your next boyfriend be better endowed. Let’s toast to it.” Taemin raises his bottle and Kibum clumsily taps it with his own. The alcohol is definitely taking effect, because he’s tipsy enough to find all of this funny.

“I wasn’t his type anyway. Physically, I mean. He’s into manly men and well, look at this,” Kibum says, gesturing at himself.

“He’s an idiot,” Taemin says immediately, devoid of any humour. “He’d have to be blind not to see how handsome, how… how y you are. He should consider himself lucky that someone like you would give a slug like him any attention at all.”

“You haven’t even seen him.”

“I don’t need to. I don’t need to compare you to anyone to say that you’re y.”

Kibum’s drunk, but not so drunk that he’d overlook the suggestion in that statement. He looks up and finds himself trapped in Taemin’s suddenly dark, lustful gaze. At any other time, he’d find a way to turn him down, because he’s just coming out of a relationship and he’s not looking for anything, not even a one-night stand, and he has a job to get done.

But right now, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

XXXXX

hi! i'm back with a new fic, inspired by taemin's photobook, portrait. as always, enjoy reading and do let me know what you think in the comments.