Jinyoung woke up in the middle of the night from a dream of Gyeongsang. In it, there was an old woman wearing a traditional garment standing on the peak of a mountain, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. The mountain beneath her feet seemed to weep in return, its tear-soaked voice echoing through Jinyoung’s ears: help her. Help her.

Jinyoung wiped the sweat from his forehead, taking a shuddering breath. He knew it wasn’t just any dream. He knew the old woman in it, or more accurately, had known her. Millions of years had passed since he’d last seen her, but the memories of that time were still as fresh as ever in his mind. But in his dream, it hadn’t been the mere memory of her. It had been her. He knew it as surely as he knew the earth was trying to urge him to Gyeongsang to see her.

“I don’t have anything to do with it anymore,” he whispered into the quiet air of the night. “Just leave me out of it. I’m already where I’m supposed to be.”

He sank back into the mattress, pressing himself against Mark’s back and inhaling the nape of his neck. If he filled himself with only him, maybe the rest of it would go away. But when he drifted back to sleep, Gyeongsang and the old woman were waiting for him yet again. Help her. Help her.

This happened every night for the rest of the week. And then it started happening during the day, too. He’d be making his breakfast and sink into a vision of the old woman. He’d be speaking with a client, and their request of “Help me” would echo into an endless refrain of “help her, help her, help her.”

Then one night when Mark took him to their mattress and began kissing the sensitive part of Jinyoung’s neck as he ed his shirt, just as Jinyoung was opening his mouth to exhale in delight, a vision exploded behind his lidded eyes of the old woman and her ceaselessly falling tears.

“Enough!” Jinyoung yelled.

Mark drew away in alarm. He blinked for a moment, then flushed in embarrassment. “N-Not in the mood tonight?”

Jinyoung reoriented himself to their bedroom, steadying his breath. “It’s not that,” he said, taking Mark’s hand in reassurance. “I would be, but the earth has decided to distract me with an itch.”

“An itch.” Mark nodded, having felt the same thing himself once. “For where? Does it want you to go back to your birthplace again?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “No. It wants me to go to Gyeongsang.”

“Why?”

“It seems Grandmother is in need of my services.”

“Grandmother?” Mark repeated. “Er…not your own grandmother, I presume?”

“No. That’s just what she’s called. Grandmother Samsin.”

Mark froze. “I know that name. She’s one of the Korean pantheon, isn’t she? The goddess of…childbearing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

Mark’s expression tightened. “Don’t tell me you’re going to involve yourself with a god again, Jinyoung. That’s not your life anymore.”

“I know. I’ve been ignoring summons for weeks now, but ‘no’ is not being accepted as an answer. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be having visions of Grandmother Samsin while you’re trying to make love to me for the foreseeable future.”

Mark frowned, still looking troubled.

“It should be fine,” Jinyoung said bracingly. “Like any proper grandmother, Samsin is a decent one.”

“But this has never happened before, right?” Mark persisted. “The gods have never interacted with you since you were banished from the heavens.”

“Yes,” Jinyoung admitted. “But it doesn’t feel like she’s the one summoning me. The earth is. It feels like it wants me in the capacity of a happiness guru, almost. Not as a former god.”

“But none of them have the right to summon you anymore. You don’t have to go where they tell you.”

“Technically, I don’t. But I’d rather just do it than be nagged constantly. It’ll be best for you, too.” He leaned in, pressing his lips against Mark’s. “You don’t want my thoughts somewhere else when I’m with you, do you?”

Even the kiss didn’t seem to soothe Mark. “What if they take you away from me?” he burst out.

Jinyoung blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The gods! If you’re going to be doing favors for one, what if she takes it upon herself to return your godhood in gratitude?” That old look, the what will become of me look, filled Mark’s eyes. “What if you get wrapped up with them again, and they won’t let you go?”

“Mark!” Jinyoung pressed his hand over Mark’s. “Do you think I’d go if there was that risk?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said in a quieter voice. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to bear immortality if you were a god again, and not a human?”

“Do you really think so lightly of me?” Jinyoung snapped, suddenly angry. “I promised to stay with you. Do you think I’m still looking for ways out of that?”

“It’s not that I’m doubting you about that! It’s just…” He swallowed. “I’m not just thinking about my lifetime, but what will be the happiest end for you when…when I’m gone.”

“Stop,” Jinyoung said sharply.

Mark did, looking away.

“I have never wanted to go back to the heavens,” Jinyoung said. “Why would I? I saw the ‘great god’ for what he was. I saw how ambitious gods could be to the detriment of the people and land they were supposed to serve. All I’ve wanted was to be able to die like a human if I’m made to live like a human. I would suffer just as much in the heavens without you as I would on the earth. I’m not staying with you because there’s no other choice, Mark. I’m staying because I love you. Anything that took me from you would break my heart as much as it would break yours.”

Mark was silent for a long moment before he finally whispered in a drowned voice, “I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I’ll forgive you because I know even that stupid way of thinking happened because you want me to be happy.” He touched Mark’s cheek, guiding his face back up so they were looking at each other. “But how can you so easily forget that I’m already the happiest I’ve ever been? And who it was that made me like this?”

Mark’s lips finally slid upwards slightly. “Maybe you were right when we first met and you found me so pathetic.”

“Maybe just a little.” He squeezed Mark’s hand. “Anyways, Grandmother Samsin couldn’t reinstate my godhood even if she wanted. I was cursed by Mireuk. Only he can reverse it. And he won’t. That coward would be terrified of me trying to overthrow him.”

“Would you?”

“No.” Jinyoung pulled Mark closer. “I’d tell him to send me back. That I’d rather have the honor of spending a part of my life with a pathetic mortal such as yourself rather than basking in his divine presence.”

“Thank you for that.” Mark wrapped his arms around Jinyoung’s shoulders. “Can I come with you, at least? To Gyeongsang?”

“You can,” Jinyoung said. “But if you don’t mind, could I meet Samsin alone?”

“Because I’m a mortal?”

“No. Because she dislikes men.” Jinyoung sighed. “I might get a pass since I’m an old acquaintance. Might. But it’ll be less of a headache if she’s ranting against one person instead of two.”

“Fine. But if there’s any way I can help or be of use to you, please tell me.”

“I will.” Jinyoung Mark’s hair, then turned to look over his shoulder, towards the window. “I’m going to Gyeongsang,” he called out. “You can stop bothering me about it! If you interrupt us again tonight, I’ll change my mind, OK?”

Mark chuckled softly. “Will that work?”

“It better,” Jinyoung said before pushing him back into the mattress and kissing him.

0

“Why is it always mountains?” Mark grumbled, dropping down into a squat. “Why can’t you gods originate from a nice river or valley or someplace that doesn’t involve a lot of climbing?”

“Don’t blame the gods for the fact that you’ve gotten out of shape,” Jinyoung said, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I’m doing just fine.”

“You also have an immortal body, but let’s not mention that, shall we.” Mark wiped some sweat from his brow. “And I’m not out of shape. It’s just harder to breathe up here.”

“That happens at this kind of altitude.” Jinyoung placed his hand on Mark’s back. “Actually, this is a good place for you to stop and me to go on. We’re almost at the peak.”

“Are you sure you should go alone?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. I’m essentially impossible to kill, so even if you see bolts of lightning summoned to smite me, nothing will happen.” He wrapped his arms around Mark’s shoulders. “Catch your breath. I’ll be back soon.”

Jinyoung looked up at the peak as he continued his climb. The clouds were gray over Samsinbong. Mark had given Jinyoung new reasons to love the rain, but this was not a happy shower. It was an endless lament. As he got closer, he reached the point where the rain began, and it quickly soaked through his clothes and drenched his skin. Jinyoung shivered. It was cold enough at this higher altitude, and with the rain, he felt frozen over. No wonder they’d informed him and Mark at the Hiking Information Center that traffic to Samsinbong Peak had dropped to almost zero.

At last, he reached the peak. The view it overlooked would have been beautiful to behold on any other day, but now it was cast in gray and barely visible through the relentless rain. Jinyoung wrapped his arms around himself.  “I’m here,” he announced awkwardly. He didn’t know if she was expecting him.

After a moment, the rain began to part like a curtain around him, giving him a reprieve from the assault though he was still soaked from all that had already fallen on him. “My, my, boy, have you forgotten your manners?” a delicate voice danced against his ear. “You are human now. You do not announce yourself plainly. You pray.”

Jinyoung grumbled, but clapped his hands together. “Grandmother Samsin,” he said flatly. “May your favor be upon me.”

With the words spoken, Samsin stepped through the curtain of rain, emerging through the other side completely dry. She looked the same as he remembered her. She favored the form of a craggy faced old woman with severe, penetrating eyes but a somewhat comforting smile. Her white hair was pinned into a bun, and she wore a faded yellow hanbok which covered her slender form.

“My favor be upon you?” she said. Every word that came out of sounded like a scold. “Unless Mireuk gave you a womb when he cast you down, you have no use for a blessing from me.”

“You asked me to pray. I prayed.”

“As someone who was once prayed to, I would think you would have a better flair for the kind of words most pleasing to a god.” She sniffed. “But no matter. I know better than to expect much of a sour grape of a man such as you.”

“Considering I’m here to help you, you could be a bit nicer, Grandmother.”

“Is that why you’re here, boy? And what makes you think I require the help of a human?”

“Your mountain told me you did.”

“Did she? You can still hear the voice of the earth mother, then?”

“Sometimes.” Jinyoung slicked back his rain-wet hair so it would stop dripping into his eyes. “So, what do you need?”

Samsin sized him up for a long moment, brows furrowed critically. Jinyoung stared back neutrally. He knew it wasn’t that she particularly disliked him—other than the fact that he was a man, a gender she did not much approve of as a patroness and protector of women—but because like all gods, she was proud. It was never wise to be too open with weaknesses when those could be easily exploited by the other gods.

“It is meaningful that you came here today of all days,” Samsin said at length. “This is the last day you could have come here and found me. Yes…I suppose that is why the mountain brought you. There is still one regret left.” She lifted her chin. “I bid you to bring a message to a worshipper of mine. Once, she came here freely and often to pay respects and give worship to me. I would speak this message to her myself, but…her visits have stopped.”

“And you wish to know why?”

Samsin’s mouth thinned. “I know why. I wish only the courtesy of parting words to one who mattered greatly to me.”

“Ah, so you’re worried you’ve been forgotten. If I give this message to her, she might resume her worship, and you’ll feel that long lost thrill again?”

“Far more remember and revere me than Mireuk, I’ll have you know, boy. When a one has a child on the way, it’s more comfortable to pray to a woman. I was so important that they wove me into the new religion when worship of the human Buddha spread here. I am far from being forgotten.”

“Then what’s your attachment to this particular worshipper you want me to speak to?”

Samsin’s frown deepened. “It’s not…attachment, precisely. It’s…” She sighed. “I’ll suppose you’ll worm the truth out eventually. You always were a meddlesome and sly. It’s why you wound up cast down among the other meddlesome and sly humans of your kind. The truth, then: I offended Chilseong. You remember them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember.” In the human myths, Chilseong assigned lifespans to children upon their birth. In reality, they tended to be the deciding factor on whether or not a child would survive a serious illness in their early life, and if not, eased their passing. “How on earth could you have offended them? I thought you worked like a team.”

“We did. But after millions of years working in tandem, there’s bound to be some disagreements. I…I may have suggested something along the lines that Chilseong was an unnecessary being given that I could just as easily do their work for them. Which I could. If I have domain over childbirth, why shouldn’t I have a say when it comes to illness related to childbirth? But Chilseong took it as a great insult, and in retaliation…knowing I favored my most loyal and constant worshipper Eunhye above all others, Chilseong cursed all her offspring to die from influenza before their first birthdays. She has lost three children since.”

Jinyoung in his breath, rage immediately consuming him. “You divine pieces of ! As always, innocent humans suffer the consequences of your petty arguments, and yet you still insist on having them! Three children dead because of yours and Chilseong’s precious pride!”

 “You would judge me, Seokga, oh bringer of calamity?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung snapped. “I would! I brought suffering enough to the world; it does not need any more from any of you!”

Samsin sighed, shoulders sagging. “You seek to make me feel guilty, boy, but there is no need. I already feel the deepest guilt. That my beloved worshipper Eunhye suffered the most terrible fate of burying her own children because of me is a torture upon my being. Every day since the first of her children died, my tears have flooded upon the earth. Samsinbong Peak knows only rain, while my Eunhye suffers.”

“Tell me why I should help you,” Jinyoung said coolly. “Tell me why I should bring a message to a suffering human from the one who claims partial responsibility in her suffering.”

“Because I wish to apologize to her.”

Jinyoung’s mouth fell open. “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard me, boy.”

“I have never heard of a god apologizing to a human.”

“You have just heard of one now. I wish you to beg forgiveness of the woman whose belief and trust in me failed her.”

Jinyoung almost couldn’t believe it. It was a wrong that warranted an apology, but a god actually delivering it? He hadn’t known it was possible for the divine to set aside their pride and admit a wrong. It was something he would have to see to truly believe.

“If you truly wish to apologize, then I won’t stop you,” Jinyoung said finally. “But wouldn’t it be better if the apology came from your own lips? I could bring your worshipper to you, if she agrees to it.”

Samsin shook her head. “I…I have no ability anymore to speak to humans.”

“You are speaking to me.”

“You have enough god left in you to make it possible.”

“I don’t understand. We don’t feed on worship like some mythologies say we do. Your powers shouldn’t have withered because belief in you has faded.”

“It’s not the fading belief. I knew that was doomed when the missionaries came. There’s far more power to be wielded in leveraging one god than many.” She exhaled. “It’s my purpose that has faded, boy. My will. I am not needed.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because after what happened with Eunhye, I stopped. I stopped presiding over births. I stopped granting some women easier births than others. I stopped giving my blessing to particularly good and obedient children. I did nothing I had once pledged my powers to do. And do you know what happened?”

Jinyoung looked at her silently.

“Women kept giving birth. Some had at easy, some had it difficult. And the children they brought into the world lived on, whether for good or for ill, without me blessing or cursing anyone. Life proceeded, even though I had stopped. Childbearing and child raising became an act of human accomplishment and error alone, and it was the same as it ever was.” She looked at Jinyoung hard. There were tears in her eyes, a sight Jinyoung had never before seen. “I am not needed.”

Jinyoung opened his mouth, the desire to say something kind filling him. Maybe humans can technically do without you, but you’re still needed as a symbol. You give them stories to soothe their fears. You give mothers hope.

But Jinyoung knew with a sudden certainty that even without the symbol of her, the mothers would be fine. Doctors would soothe their fears. Their families would give them hope. They would have their children and raise them even if the name Samsin fell completely from their memory. The world would go on.

Jinyoung shut his mouth, reached out, and brushed one of Samsin’s tears from her weathered cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not,” she said without bitterness. “You are proud. Humankind is sustaining itself, carrying on based on its own strength rather than being slaves to miserable fools like Mireuk and Chilseong and…and myself. It is exactly as you would have it. And it’s nothing to be sorry of. Perhaps this was what was always meant to happen. Perhaps we were never meant to orchestrate so long after we set humankind in motion. Perhaps we were meant to return to the earth.”

Suddenly, Samsin sank to her knees, pressing her hands against the ground. “And that is what I intend to do,” she said. “The earth needs me more than humans. So I will return.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am the spirit of this mountain. A piece of it that was given form, just like you. And I can go back to where I came from.” Her fingers slid across the ground. “Back into the mountain. Back into the earth, to become one with it once more. I’m not the first to have done so.” She looked up at him. “The heavens are emptier than when you were here. The gods are leaving. We are not needed. Many of us have realized that. One day, even Mireuk will, too.”

“B-But-”

“You don’t need to protest. I’ve made my decision. You feel it yourself, don’t you? The earth is hurting. It needs us. And I’m better served where I’m needed than where I’m not.” Her eyes turned determined, no traces of tears left. “Tell Eunhye I am sorry. Tell her that she is free, bound by nothing, and able now to live the life she was given with no blessing or curse to ruin it.”

“I will,” Jinyoung said, with a heavy heart. “I promise.”

“Thank you. In payment for accepting my request, I will tell you something before I go, Seokga. Mireuk still speaks often of you. I know of the life you’ve been living of late. And of your human lover. He delights that you are in love with a mortal. He says that you were nothing but a miserable bore before, but now he will have the joy of watching you suffer upon your lover’s death.”

Jinyoung’s jaw clenched. “I’m honored,” he said coldly.

“I bear no love for Mireuk,” Samsin said. “He played you false out of greed, and you did no wrong in playing him false in return. I have no wish to see him delighted by your suffering. I would advise, Seokga, not giving him what he wants.”

“And how would I do that?” Jinyoung asked. “Am I not supposed to mourn or suffer when the one I love is gone?”

“Of course you must mourn. And it is inevitable to suffer. But you must not let it defeat you, Seokga. That is what he wishes, to see you broken by your sorrow. He wants you to have nothing left to you, the spark of defiance that once bested him gone forever from your eyes. Cry and mourn as you will. But don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you give up.” There was a sudden shift in the air, and the rain surrounding them began to slow. “My worshipper Eunhye works at the Hiking Information Center. You will find her there, by the mountain. Give my words to her, and my farewell. She will never be burdened with me again, but I will tend to this mountain she loves. I will protect it, and pray that is good enough.”

Samsin’s hands disappeared into the earth, her human form shifting into something more ephemeral as the land accepted her back into itself. When Jinyoung could no longer see her, the rain tapered off and the sun broke through the clouds, shining down on him and drying some of the rain from his body.

No matter what your lover’s lifespan will be, the time you will have with him will feel longer than you think, a voice echoed through the air. It was the voice of the mountain that had first called to Jinyoung and brought him here, though he swore he could hear strains of Samsin’s gently chiding voice woven within.  And I know from seeing you that you will love him longer still, and through that love, his memory and influence will far outlive his lifespan. You are much blessed, Seokga. Joy will walk with you for much longer than suffering. Remember that.

0

Jinyoung collapsed into bed when they made it back to the hotel. Mark stayed by the door for a few minutes before dropping down beside him, placing a hand on Jinyoung’s back. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“What’s there to say?” Jinyoung said with a sigh. “Eunhye pretty much reacted as expected.”

“Really? You expected her to believe us?”

“She was the one who believed in Samsin enough to pray to her constantly and pilgrimage to her holy peak. Are you really surprised that she would be quick to accept that she’d had faith in something real?”

“Maybe not. I wasn’t surprised at all that she was reluctant to accept Samsin’s apology, though. If I’d lost so many children for such a pointless reason, I wouldn’t have forgiven anyone either.” Mark pursed his lips. “But did you notice…she cried even harder when we told her Samsin was gone. I thought it would make her happy.”

“It’s not that simple. The gods are kind of like a crutch, to some. For Eunhye, Samsin became something to concentrate her blame and bitterness on. It probably helped her manage her sorrow. And then she had that crutch yanked out from her. It’s hard to blame Samsin with the same force when Samsin really doesn’t exist in the same form anymore. I’m sure it’s a bit of an empty feeling for Eunhye.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Mark rubbed down Jinyoung’s back. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How do you feel about it? I thought having one less god around would be a bit of a victory for you. But you seem sad.”

“I guess it’s because it’s a bit of an empty feeling for me as well.” Jinyoung bit his lip. “I think it was for the best. Samsin was right; humans aren’t the ones who need the gods right now. And…I don’t know. When she went back to earth, she had this expression on her face. Like she was the happiest she’d felt in a very long time.”

“But…?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just really hit home how little I know about what’s going on in the heavens anymore. It feels like everything has changed on me and I don’t know what it means.”

Mark looked at him gently. “It’s puts you a little more on our level, then. You’re human now, Jinyoung. You don’t get to know everything.”

“I never claimed to know everything. But there was a kind of comfort in always having the gods around to mistrust. Now…apparently most of them aren’t even there anymore.” He grimaced. “Except Mireuk.”

“Odd that the human mythologies always have him leaving at the first sign of trouble.”

“Leaving when he still has me to lord over would be entirely against his nature.”

“Then I guess we won’t be getting rid of him for a long, long while.” Mark leaned in, kissing Jinyoung’s forehead. “I’m glad you came. I think it was important for you to talk to Samsin and witness what happened to her. But, Jinyoung?”

“Yes?”

“I hope that’s the last time you have to help a god in my lifetime. We’re humans, you and I. We shouldn’t be getting too close to the heavens during our time on the earth.”

Jinyoung turned over, looking Mark in the eye. “I can’t say what will happen,” he said. “But even when I was a god, who I wanted to help was humans. That won’t change. And never will.”

Mark smiled, though it looked like there were tears in his eyes. “I’m glad you wanted that,” he said. “Even if it caused your downfall. I’m just so glad you’re here and not there. Because I know you would have been the first to realize it was best for humans if you returned to the earth. And the one contending with that unbearable empty feeling would be me.”

0

Mark sank into the mattress with a groan. “Why does sleeping on the floor have to get harder every year?” he asked.

“You’re only thirty,” Jinyoung said.

“Excuse me for not having an ageless body. I’ll have you know, back pain is a thing even for people in their twenties. If you knew what it was like, you wouldn’t tease me.”

“I’m sure I would. Teasing you is my favorite way of amusing myself.” Still, he put his hands on Mark’s shoulders and began massaging them. “On a more serious note, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes…?”

“It’s getting to the point where we need to talk about where we’ll move to.”

“Already? I thought it was five more years.”

“It’s not a decision we want to put off to the last minute. We’ll be moving to a whole new country, remember? And if it’s not an English-speaking country, you’ll need to learn a new language. I might, too.”

“True. Still…”

“I know it’s hardly an optimistic thing to think of. I don’t want to leave our home and Inje behind either. I’ll miss Yugyeom and BamBam, too. Even Jackson, now that he hates me a little less. But we have to. All three of them have already commented on how I haven’t aged a day since they met me. Even my jokes about my good genes aren’t going to cut it soon.”

“They barely cut it to begin with. You don’t really have a knack for telling jokes, unfortunately.” Mark sighed, rolling his shoulders as Jinyoung massaged down his back. “I like my job, so I’d like to go somewhere with a branch of the Red Cross. And preferably a country where I know the language. I feel like I’ve only just mastered Korean, so I’m not sure I’m ready to start at the beginning with a new language.”

“So…an English-speaking country, then? Your Chinese is also decent.”

“We can’t go to Taiwan, or my family would be visiting constantly. I’d rather not live in the mainland, either, with the political situation as it is. I think English-speaking might be best for now. Do you have a preference?”

“Not Canada. It’s too soon for me to be going so close to the States.”

“New Zealand? England?” Mark leaned in to Jinyoung’s hands. “I think England might be good. It’s at an inconvenient distance to my family in California and our friends in Korea. Which sounds horrible to say out loud.”

“Horrible, but necessary.” Jinyoung kissed his shoulder. “I think it’s a good option. The countryside there is beautiful.” He yawned. “Try hinting around at work and see about how it might work as a transfer possibility. It might take a while for me to get all my documents forged again, so the sooner we confirm the country we’re going to, the better.”

“You’ll have to choose a new name again?”

“Yes. But you’re allowed to keep calling me ‘Jinyoung.’ It’s the name I’ve used the most often.”

“What did you go by in America?”

“Jason Kim.”

“Mmm. Let me choose your next name, please. I’ve already thought of the last name.”

“Yes?”

“Tuan.” Mark turned around, his face lit up by a smile. “Because we’re married, in a sense. You should have my last name.”

“Oh?” Jinyoung lifted an eyebrow. “Will that be our back story? A gay couple relocating somewhere where our relationship would be more acceptable?”

“I don’t really care about the details. Even if we have to hide parts of who we are, I don’t want to hide who we are to each other.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Just remember-”

“That by time we move along the second time, you will still look twenty-five in age, and I will be fifty and most likely look the part, and some people might think I’m a ert. Yes, I know.” Mark sighed. “Little will they know, you’re the real ert for marrying someone a few million years younger than you.”

Jinyoung swatted him with his hand.

Mark caught it in his own. “As for your new first name…well…it has to be something easy for me to remember, something I’ll naturally be able to call you in public without messing up.”

“Yes?”

“Yeobo.”

“Yes…?”

“No, I’m saying that would be your new name. Yeobo. Because it would be easy for me to call you that.”

Jinyoung stared at him in horror. “You basically want to rename me as ‘babe’ or ‘darling’? You’re making my new first name a mushy endearment?”

“Basically.”

“That’s ridiculous. What kind of parents would name their kid that?”

“I don’t know, the same kind of parents who would name their kid ‘Hope Unicorn’ or ‘Cupcake Rainbow’?” Mark smiled. “Besides, I’m guessing barely anyone would realize it’s an unusual name. It would be no more unusual to them than ‘Jinyoung’ would be.”

“True.” Jinyoung sighed. “But if it’s my first name, people we meet will be calling me ‘yeobo’ as if I’m their husband. Will you honestly be OK with that?”

“As long as it’s not some handsome, charming guy hell bent on stealing you from me, I don’t care. It’s not like they’d be putting any emotion into it, like I do.” Mark squeezed his hand. “All of this has reminded me that these will be our last five years we’ll ever be able to spend in Korea together. You won’t be able to come back during my lifetime.”

Jinyoung nodded, trying not to let the thought trouble him.

“We should explore as much of it as we can, then,” Mark said determinedly. “So when you come back one day, every part of it contains a memory of us in it.” He paused. “If…that won’t be too painful for you.”

“I think a little pain is unavoidable,” Jinyoung said thickly. “But I think it’s worth it, for the memories.”

Mark nodded, Jinyoung’s cheek. “I wish it could feel for you like it does for me,” he said in a soft voice.

“What?”

“Being together. It feels so endless to me. I’ll get to have you for the rest of my life, and it feels like this long, beautiful road ahead of me. I wish it could be like that for you.”

Jinyoung swallowed. “I wish so, too,” he said. “But I’m happy to get to have you at all, all the same.”

0

Jinyoung slid the front door open, watching the rain making ripples in all the puddles on the path. It wasn’t quite a downpour, but it had been raining at a steady pace since morning with no signs of letting up.

“So much for fireworks,” Mark’s voice came from behind him. Jinyoung turned to look at him. He was holding a rubber mat, which he extended to Jinyoung. Jinyoung placed it by the door, to collect everyone’s wet shoes when they came.

“Still,” Jinyoung said. “It’s kind of nice, in a way. Our favorite weather sending us off.”

“I suppose. But I like this weather best on me and you days. Days when we can stay inside and drink beer and at each other and until we pass out.” He sighed. “It doesn’t fit a farewell party as well. Fireworks really would have been nice.”

Jinyoung squeezed his hands. There were no soothing platitudes to give him. He couldn’t say something like there will be a next time. Because there wouldn’t, and they both knew it.

Mark cleared his throat, dropping Jinyoung’s hand. “I’ll finish up in the kitchen.”

“OK. Let me know if you need anything.”

Jinyoung turned back to watch the rain. He felt a pressing need to burn the landscape into his mind, but at the same time knew that what he needed to preserve wasn’t the view. He’d be back, after all. Maybe hundreds of years from this moment, but he’d be back.

He exhaled, stepping outside and onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. He thought of other times he’d left this house. The times when it had been emotionless, as simple to him as casting off the day’s clothes and putting on something new. The time when it had been a little bit harder, because he’d left a sleeping Mark inside and truly believed he would never see him again.

But no time he’d left it would be like this. Because now he was leaving behind the place he had made years-worth of his happiest memories. He would be leaving behind people he treasured who he really would never be able to see again.

He heard before he saw Youngjae and Jaebum coming down the path. Youngjae’s loud laugh carried, and Jinyoung sat up straighter, his gloomy thoughts replaced by a moment of excitement. The two of them had come to the house a few times over the years, whenever Jaebum was performing close enough by to warrant the train ride to Inje. But it had been a while, and Jinyoung was excited to see them.

After a moment, they came into view, two figures sharing one large umbrella. As soon as Youngjae saw Jinyoung, he flew out from under the umbrella and ran to throw his arms around him. Jinyoung caught him in an embrace, laughing as Youngjae whipped back in forth and uncontainable excitement.

“Look at you!” Youngjae yelled, studying Jinyoung’s face. “What the hell? You could have at least aged a little bit since I last saw you to make me feel better! You should go on the news and reveal the details of your plastic surgeon to the public. You’d make a fortune!”

“Don’t be rude,” Jaebum said, chopping Youngjae on the head. “You know better than to talk about someone else’s plastic surgery!”

“I really haven’t had any,” Jinyoung said, on principle. “Just good genes.”

“Your genes are seriously out of this world. How on earth are you supposed to be forty?” Youngjae laughed, already moving on to the next thing. Jinyoung liked that about him. “Doesn’t Jaebummie look different, though?”

Jinyoung glanced at him. Jaebum had grown out his hair so it was long, nearly to his shoulders. “Very rock and roll, Jaebum.”

Jaebum fiddled with a few the strands self-consciously. “I thought it was more me than the trendy hairstyles my label is always giving me.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Plus, it doesn’t really matter if Jaebummie’s on trend. He’s not an idol or anything. And his fans like his authenticity. And me, too, of course!” Youngjae stepped back under Jaebum’s umbrella, realizing finally that his hair was getting a bit damp. “So, are you going to invite us inside?”

“Of course!” Jinyoung pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jaebum and Youngjae kicked off their wet shoes and set their umbrella to dry. Jinyoung took them down the hallway and to the kitchen where Mark was putting the finishing touches on dinner.

“Hi, Mark!” Youngjae said brightly. “No offense, but you’re looking older than Jinyoung now.”

Jaebum gently chopped Youngjae again. “Didn’t I just tell you not to be rude?”

“It’s fine,” Mark said with a laugh. “Everyone says so. Apparently my genes aren’t as good to me.”

“It’ll catch up to Jinyoung one day,” Youngjae said sagely. “No one’s lucky enough to have that kind of face forever.”

“So how are you two doing?”

“Great! Jaebum just finished up an acoustic tour. Did you listen to the copies of his last album I sent you?”

“It’s all we listen to these days.”

“I’m proud of it,” Jaebum said, leaning against the counter. “Youngjae and I wrote every single one of the songs together this time.”

“I’m on background vocals for a few of the tracks, too, did you notice?” Youngjae asked. “I’m hoping we can do a full duet album sometime, though I don’t actually want to be famous or anything like Jaebum is. I just like singing with him.”

There was a knock on the door. “That must be the others,” Mark said. “Jinyoung, could you take over the stove for a sec?”

Jinyoung nodded. It would be Mark’s friends arriving this time, so it was better for him to answer the door.

A few moments later, the sound of BamBam, Yugyeom, and Jackson streaming into the entryway and pulling off their wet things filled the house. Even though all three had grown up plenty, they were still a noisy bunch, and their presence had a way of filling the house until it felt like it was almost bursting at the seams.

When they were finished in the entryway, they all trooped into the kitchen. “Hey, Jinyoung,” BamBam said genially. Yugyeom nodded to him with one of his goofy grins. Even Jackson looked considerably glad to see him. The near fifteen years Jinyoung had stayed by Mark’s side had done a lot to temper his anger over Jinyoung’s failed attempt to leave Mark years ago.

“Hey guys,” Jinyoung said. “These are my friends Choi Youngjae and Im Jaebum.”

“Wait, Im Jaebum as in the guy who does, like, every major OST?” Yugyeom asked.

“Yup,” Jaebum said with his usual humbleness.

“Whoa! Big fan! I watch dramas every week, and I love your work.” Yugyeom paused. “Wait…aren’t you also the guy from that IU concert? The one where Jinyoung did open mic and Mark realized that he loved him after all?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Cool! Didn’t recognize you! You’ve got so much hair now! Congrats on beating cancer and coming back strong!”

“Thanks.” Jaebum ran his hands through his hair. “God, I hope I never have to go bald again. That really .”

“I’ll still love you, even if you have no hair,” Youngjae said loyally. “I mean, I already have once, so you can count on me.”

“Awww, and you’re the guy he serenaded during the IU concert?” Jackson asked. “And you’re still together? Way to give us a little faith in love.”

“Jinyoung and I have been together almost just as long,” Mark pointed out.

“Yeah, but without the cute backstory. Not as oohsome.”

BamBam, who hadn’t been contributing to the conversation but instead creeping towards the pot of spicy noodles Jinyoung was stirring, snatched a spoon from the counter and dove into the pot. “Yum,” he said. “Can we eat now? It was a long day at work and I’m starving.”

“After all this time, you still have the manners of a barbarian,” Jinyoung said, swatting him away and turning off the stove burner.

BamBam shrugged. “At least I’m consistent, right?”

“Your kind of consistency is nothing to be proud of,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “But yeah, looks like dinner’s ready. We were originally going to eat on the back porch and set off mini-fireworks, but looks like the rain’s going to put a stop to that.”

“The back porch is covered by the roof overhang, right?” Jackson asked. “We could still eat there and watch the rain. It’s not windy, so the rain isn’t blowing or anything. We wouldn’t get wet.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Jinyoung said so quickly that everyone glanced at him curiously. “That’s my favorite part of the house,” he explained. “Mark and I always sit out there in the evenings when it’s not too cold.”

“Then let’s eat there,” Youngjae determined. “You need to get the most of your favorite places before…” He trailed off with a grimace.

They carried out plates and a case of beer along with the pot of noodles and set up on the porch, legs dangling off as they served themselves food. Everyone else began scarfing down, but Jinyoung stared out into the rain with a hopeless sort of longing. He could almost see the figures of Mark and himself dancing out in the rain. Mark, young and naïve, but still full of such pure belief and relentless freedom. Jinyoung, looking just the same as he always did, but closed and only just cracking open, surrounded by millennia of defenses now under assault by newfound love.

I wish we could always be here, Jinyoung thought, swallowing back the heaviness of his throat. I wouldn’t even mind missing out on so many other human things if only we were able to live here forever.

But they couldn’t. And at the end of the day, it was just a house. They’d take their memories with them. And if Mark was at his side, the new home would soon fill up with new memories and occupy just as big of a space in Jinyoung’s heart.

“So,” Jaebum said, breaking the silence. “England.”

Jinyoung was surprised it had taken this long for the subject to come up. “Yes,” Mark answered for them both. “Tomorrow.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

“Pretty good.” Mark glanced at Jinyoung to confirm he felt the same. “We found a little house in Old Woking that we like. It’s a bit of a commute to work, but I don’t mind.”

“I don’t understand why you guys have to leave in the first place,” Yugyeom said glumly. “What’s the difference in working at the Red Cross in England and South Korea? It doesn’t even put you closer to your family.”

Mark shrugged. “I’m in demand for being trilingual, I guess. Besides, both Jinyoung and I were born overseas to begin with. We like traveling. We’re not good at staying in one place.”

“Well, you’ll have to at least let us visit,” Youngjae said. “I’ve never been to Europe before.”

“Just keep in mind our new house will be really small. We can’t host overnight guests.”

This wasn’t exactly true. They had opted for a smaller house, something cottage-sized, but there was a guest room. They just had to be careful about encouraging visitors. It would be inevitable that Mark’s parents would come, but they were hoping to prevent other visits that would force them to get creative about explaining away Jinyoung’s absence.

BamBam lifted his can of beer. “Well. Here’s to you two on your new adventure. Hope England treats you well.”

Everyone lifted their cans and toasted them. After that, the conversation went down its usual path of silliness. Jinyoung leaned back and enjoyed the laughter and lightness, letting himself feel every moment to its fullest. The sound of the rain against the overhang, the bitter taste of the beer, the smell of early autumn, the texture of the ground beneath his feet. It would never be this exact way again, and though there was a sadness in that, there was a joy in treasuring it for exactly what it was.

“I’m going to the kitchen for a sec to get some snacks,” Jinyoung said, after an hour or so had passed and their guests began to get the munchies. He stepped back inside, running his fingers against the furniture as he passed it. All of it would be staying but the mattress and a few other things they had chosen to ship. Jinyoung had again hired a caretaker, hoping that nothing would happen in Korea during his years away that would make it impossible to return to.

As he rifled through the kitchen cabinets for the dregs of their snacks, he heard a noise behind him and turned around. Jackson had come in, and was leaning against the counter.

“Hey,” Jinyoung said.

“Hey,” Jackson said back. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yes?”

“I actually wanted to apologize.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you.”

Jinyoung shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for being angry at me for ghosting your best friend.”

“Yeah, but I took it overboard. You’ve shown for a while now that you aren’t that person anymore. I just didn’t want to see it.” He shrugged. “I got jealous.”

“Jackson…”

“Don’t worry,” Jackson said quickly. “It’s not exactly jealousy over his love like I once thought it was. I think I was jealous of his certainty. How strongly he believed right from the beginning that you were it. I’ve always wanted someone to feel like that about me.” He smiled. “Well, no worries about that anymore. All of us have found someone good and settled down, and there’s not so much to envy you for now that I’ve tasted my own right kind of love. I just wanted to put it behind us before you go.”

“Thank you. But I forgave you from the beginning.”

“And now I’m willing to accept it, finally.” Jackson studied him. “You’re really going, huh?”

“Yes.”

“No plans on coming back, either?”

Jinyoung shook his head.

“Aish, they always say adulthood is full of tough goodbyes, but this is a real one. But I guess we’re all getting older now. We have to accept we all have our own lives now.” He stuck his hand out. “All the same, I’m glad you were a part of ours. I’m glad Mark found you. It’s good to know that even though I won’t be able to see you guys around anymore, I know you’ll be happy.”

Jinyoung took Jackson’s hand and shook it. “I’m glad to have met you, too. All of you. I’ve changed so much from getting to have people in my life, instead of just myself.”

They went back outside and settled back onto the porch. It was late now, with little light but for the moon behind the clouds, but they stayed up, telling stories and laughing and singing along with Jaebum to his songs. It was almost midnight before Jackson, BamBam, and Yugyeom finally said they had to go home before they missed the last train back to Sokcho.

Youngjae and Jaebum, who were staying the night, didn’t even make it to the couch where Jinyoung had planned to set up with sheets and pillows for them. They both drunkenly passed out on the floor, Youngjae snuggled against Jaebum’s chest and murmuring nonsense in his sleep. Jaebum snored lightly, his long hair splayed out around him.

Mark and Jinyoung tossed the paper plates and beer cans in the trash and recycling, and cleaned out the rest of the cabinets of their remaining food. When the kitchen was mostly empty, they quietly went to their bedroom, careful not to wake the sleeping couple on the floor.

When the door was shut behind them, Jinyoung immediately fell into Mark’s arms, burying his head in his shoulder. The tears came to his eyes before he even realized that he felt like crying.

“It’s never felt like this before,” he whispered. “Leaving. It’s always been simple, like turning over a new page. It’s never been hard.”

Mark rubbed his back. From the small tremors of his body, Jinyoung knew he was crying, too. “Maybe it’s mean of me, but I’m glad it’s hard for you,” he said in a cracked voice. “It’s hard because of love. And even if it’s painful, I wanted you to know what loving like this feels like.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any easier.” Jinyoung squeezed him tightly. “I wouldn’t change learning this for anything.”

And he wouldn’t, no matter how badly it hurt. After millennia of nothing but meaninglessness in his life, it was fine if the meaning he’d found in these fifteen years consumed his heart until it flooded over in tears just like this. Mark was right; it was the love that made him sad as much as it made him happy. And it would be love that healed it, love that gave him the strength to carry on, love that would make him smile when the tears had dried. It was hard to leave things behind, but there was so much ahead further down the road. And he meant to follow the path until its end, taking both love’s sorrow and its joy as he went.