So I finally finished writing this nearly a year after the idea had first come to me. Been a tough year and haven't had much time to write, but writing this has made me realise that the things you enjoy doing are always there -- and you can always pick it up again. 

Hope you enjoy. 

This is not how Donghae had envisioned spending his last night in Beijing. Travelling to the Chinese capital on a whim of wanting to escape from the reality that is his mounting stack of paperwork, he’d thought he’d find solace in a sea of unfamiliar faces. But it turns out what he really wanted to get away from was crowds of mindless blotches, of people who’d just do one thing after another day by day and forgot to live, only to realise it when it was all too late. So the day before he is set to fly back to Seoul, he buys a ticket for a bus ride that will take him to Gubei Water Town, and doesn’t even bat an eyelid when he pays for a room in one of the five-star hotels there. He deserves a break. 

But it’s in the night where he finally gets sick of flipping through TV channels aimlessly on the flat-screen TV. 

Putting on his winter coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck, he leaves the room in hopes of exploring the town. Not many people would be out at this timing, anyway, which is good. The last thing he needs is to pretend like he gives two s about them.

—

There isn’t a lot to see at a time like this. It’s mostly dark all around, and Donghae kind of wishes he’d come down earlier to witness it in its full glory. Must look like it’s straight out of a fairytale, what with the stone buildings and bridges here, there and everywhere. 

He keeps his hands inside his coat pockets, fidgeting uncomfortably with the heat packs. It’s a terrible time to have come out, and he can only hope he doesn’t have to lose his fingers. He can literally see white smoke when he breathes out, and that’s when the wind isn’t blowing. 

There aren’t many people around. Most are shop owners waiting for the time to close to come around, but there are some tourists wandering out and taking photographs of — well, anything. Donghae wonders how their fingers haven’t frozen already. A couple hovers around the bridge as he crosses it, and he hopes they don’t make conversation, what with the way the boyfriend is looking at him. 

“你好！(Hi!)” He calls out to him.

Donghae stops in his tracks and manages to hold in a sigh. The couple looks at him excitedly, a light in the girlfriend’s eyes that especially stand out against the darkness of the night. 

Donghae offers a polite smile and desperately prays they’re just asking for directions or something — to which he can say he doesn’t know any better than them — because at least he wouldn’t have to pull his hands out of his pockets to answer that question.

“帮我们拍张照吧？(Can you take a photo for us?)” The boyfriend asks, shoving his phone in Donghae’s way. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the request when there’s a Huawei P40 Pro pressed against his coat jacket. Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t understand Mandarin.

He reluctantly holds onto it. The cold is biting and he regrets it almost immediately. 

The couple takes a few steps back and pose for the camera. The boyfriend wraps an arm around his girlfriend — and even though Donghae’s not a huge ing fan of the cold at all, he knows how nice and warm it feels to have someone pressed that tightly against you, and to hold you like you’re the most important person in the world — and she smiles, pleased, a dimple flashing.

It’s not like he hasn’t had a boyfriend before. 

The corners of his lips lift unwittingly as he snaps the photo, and the couple rushes over to thank him when he gestures that he’s done.

“我觉得你长得好帅啊 (I think you’re really good looking),” the girlfriend says to him cheekily as her boyfriend takes a look at the photo. It earns her a glare from her boyfriend, but she leans in then to press a kiss to his cheek and the furrow in his brows eases. 

Donghae smiles. He knows what that means. 

The couple thanks him again, and Donghae offers them a quick wave before shoving his hand back into his pocket and continuing his aimless stroll. 

The warmth in his pocket is to die for.

—

It’s an unassuming shop he comes across out of nowhere that draws his attention. Well, as unassuming as it could be, sitting atop a hill with a red telephone booth next to the entrance. 

It looks empty enough from the windows for Donghae to be interested in going in — he really, really isn’t in the mood for much human interaction unless absolutely necessary.

Pushing the doors open, he steps into the warmth he’d been desperate for and is greeted by a song playing softly from the speakers. The person behind the counter looks up and acknowledges him with a small nod, and he gives a smile back. At least she didn’t approach him.

He wanders around the shop aimlessly, occasionally a keychain or magnet that looks mildly interesting. 

He doesn’t pretend not to notice the area with the postcards, nor can he miss the large wooden tables and high chairs next to it, presumably for customers to pen down their thoughts before mailing the postcards out. It’s rather empty, except for a young girl sitting at the corner.

A nagging feeling tugs at the bottom of his heart. Maybe a small part of him wishes he had someone to write to, the way the young girl certainly does. The way he used to.

He forces himself out of it — it’s been so long, let it go — and tears his gaze away to focus his attention on the magnets instead. There are a few that are pretty cute, and he puts them into his basket — his fridge’s been looking a little empty lately, anyway. He glances around the shop one more time, resolutely avoiding the postcards area, before making his way to the cashier.

“就这些？(Is that all?)” the cashier asks, scanning the barcodes pasted onto the magnet. 

He nods. 

She bags them gently, though appearing to look a little hesitant passing him the paper bag.

He raises his brow in confusion. “有什么问题吗？(Is there a problem?)” he asks, hoping it doesn’t come across as too confrontational. 

She seems a little surprised that he could speak the language, but that shock is quickly replaced by a mischievous glint in her eyes. She gestures towards the postcards area, and Donghae stifles a sigh. She must have seen how he’d purposely avoided the area,