“Keep up!” The girl raises her gaze from the uneven forest floor, and immediately stumbles over a root. “We’re almost there!” 

 

She pushes past a thick clump of undergrowth, chasing her friends’ footfalls, and bursts into the clearing where the rest of them have gathered, some already seated, spreading out blankets and unpacking snacks. She sighs in relief. Her feet ache and the warmth of summer has made her skin sticky. She drops to the ground, unrolling a blanket and lying back on it, water bottle in hand.

 

“Look there.” She cracks an eye open; the eldest among them is pointing a little ways off, at a tall tree rising up over the little hills and smaller, scrubbier trees separating it from their clearing. “See that tree?” Everyone nods. “I heard a story about it. It’s actually two trees, planted so close their trunks and branches touch.”

 

“You’re lying,” one of the other kids scoffs. “How can they grow like that? One would definitely choke the other, steal all its nutrients. There’s no way. They probably have the same root system, came from the same seed.”

 

The eldest shakes his head. “Nope, come back in the spring. One side blooms pink, but the other has flowers that are dark red. You can look it up, if you want. It’s a naturally-occurring phenomenon.” He looks around slyly. “Or, some say it’s magic.”

 

Some of the kids roll their eyes, but the girl props herself up on an elbow. “Magic? How?”

 

The eldest smiles, glad at least one person has taken the bait. “Wanna hear the story?”

 

Some soft grumbles arise, but everyone is too tired to protest. A few others raise their heads in keen interest as the eldest makes himself comfortable, clearing his throat. The girl closes her eyes again. His stories are always good, even if they aren’t true.

 

* * *

 

Doyoung’s lungs hurt. The pain in his chest is keen and tight. It’s in his throat too, and his shoulders; the rest of his body feels weak and faint. He shifts, watching carefully. In the distance, voices—but they grow further and further away until he can’t hear anything.

 

He counts to one thousand before he moves anyway, extending his legs and shaking them out a little to get the blood flowing again. Letting out a sharp sigh, he begins to hike deeper into the woods. He doubts the others will come this far. For all their bravado, they have fears, just like Doyoung. Their fears are just different. They won’t walk unfamiliar paths, still scared from the stories their mothers fed them when they were children.

 

Doyoung knows there are far worse things that live outside the woods.

 

He gets nearer to his favorite spot. It’s near a waterfall, past thick undergrowth and little clearings that are always warm and speckled with sunlight in the summer. He hears the faint rushing of water, and whistles, a few low notes, a tune only one other person knows, then pauses, waiting.

 

Faithfully, the same tune comes back to him, carried on the wind from up ahead. He speeds up, whistling again. The returning whistle is much louder than the first, but Doyoung still can’t see its source. He steps into the clearing, walking carefully down to the edge of the pond.

 

“Jungwoo?”

 

He hears rustling above, and then he’s knocked to the side by a sudden weight. Jungwoo lands beside him, laughing, as Doyoung stumbles, nearly falling into the pond.

 

“Jungwoo!” he repeats, scolding this time.

 

Jungwoo just grins. “Did I scare you?” he asks, giggling.

 

“Yes,” Doyoung says, trying and failing to maintain a glare. But Jungwoo’s bright smile is a far greater force than Doyoung’s irritation, and he finds himself huffing out soft laughter. “But really. It’s not funny.”

 

“You’re laughing,” Jungwoo protests.

 

“No, not this—that. Them.” Doyoung points off into the forest vaguely. “Now, it’s all talk. But…”

 

“I know.” Jungwoo’s face grows solemn; he reaches out to Doyoung. “I know.” But his cheer breaks through all the same—when Doyoung takes his hand, his smile returns slowly, almost like it’s trying to sneak back onto his face without being caught. “But it’ll be okay. No one will know.”

 

Doyoung nods slowly, taking a deep breath. “No one will know,” he echoes, like a prayer.

 

Jungwoo kisses him softly, and Doyoung breathes him in, the familiar earthiness of his skin, of his sweat. It grounds him, even though his heart is still hammering in his chest, even though his skin still prickles with anxiety.

 

“Come on.” Jungwoo breaks the kiss. He’s still smiling; the sight of it settles Doyoung, soothes him. If Jungwoo is still smiling, then things cannot be so bad. “Come swim with me.” Without waiting for an answer, he steps back, tugging off his shoes and shirt, and goes splashing into the pond.

 

Doyoung follows more slowly. Though he’s certainly more at ease now than when he first entered the clearing, the fear still lingers. It’s no small thing, two boys in love. They could be cast out for it, or more likely killed. Here, deep in the woods, they can pretend nothing is wrong, but they can’t live here forever. They have to answer to their families, fulfill their duties as sons. They cannot do that together, and they know that. Honestly, Doyoung doesn’t even know why they’re still trying. When they were young, it was natural to hope. Naivety will do that.

 

But they are no longer children. Perhaps, Doyoung thinks, as he sinks into the cool water, it’s simply the gesture of it, the quiet rebellion. To do what they can with the time that they have and then live the rest of their lives on the satisfaction that once, they had lived differently.

 

Jungwoo splashes him and Doyoung yells in surprise, then lunges forward after him as he tries to escape deeper into the pond. For now, it doesn’t matter. For now, he only has to worry about catching Jungwoo and getting his revenge, then lying in the sun to dry before night comes.

 

When they tire of wrestling in the water, they retire to the plush grass just beyond. Doyoung flops on his back, chest heaving, wide smile stretched across his face to match Jungwoo’s. Jungwoo drops down beside him, rolling onto his side so he can press soft kisses to Doyoung’s neck and jaw. Doyoung combs his fingers through Jungwoo’s hair, almost absentmindedly. The sun gets lower in the sky, washing the clearing in warm yellow light as the day treks on. Here in this little clearing, they are safe. The forest offers them protection, unfailingly, and today is no different. Things are gentle and quiet and good, so much so that Doyoung forgets how precious they are.

 

Months pass with hardly a hiccup. The other young men and women in their town do not relent, but Doyoung and Jungwoo are used to it. Most importantly, the adults do not take the teasing seriously; when Doyoung is pressed by his parents, he tells them the rumors are baseless, and that he and Jungwoo are good friends.

 

“We’ve known each other since childhood, Ma,” he says. “We grew up together. Let the people talk.” Each word is another thorn in his heart, but it doesn’t matter. “It’s just talk.”

 

“Alright.” Though she smooths his hair with light fingers, her gaze is sharp and keen. “You know, if you would settle down with a girl, the talk would stop.”

 

“Settle down?” Doyoung asks, perhaps with more emotion than he should. “I’m still young, how can I think of settling down? When I’m older, I will. Not now.”

 

His mother smiles, somewhat placated. “You know,” she says. “Your father married me when he was not much older than you are now.”

 

“People don’t get married that young anymore,” Doyoung protests.

 

“Hmm.” His mother regards him for a moment. Her smile is fond, but a little exasperated. “You cannot run from your future forever,” she reminds him gently. “Eventually, you must put your childhood aside. Everyone who lives must do so. It is the way of things.”

 

“I know,” Doyoung whispers, looking away so she doesn’t see how it hurts. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

 

“I know,” she says, rubbing his back. It’s not comforting. She doesn’t know. Even though Doyoung can feel the warmth of her hand through his shirt, his world seems small and cold.

 

But that’s alright. His world will be small and cold. Though he and Jungwoo have not discussed it, he knows that once they are married, they will not be able to see each other anymore. They will likely remain friends, but their bond will grow thin and distant. But it’s as his mother said. It’s the way of things.

 

His parents market him to the families of some of the young ladies in the town. Doyoung follows through diligently, offering favors, flowers, pieces of his time. He’s a popular bachelor—soft-spoken and intelligent, beautiful and strong. If the girls notice there is something missing behind his eyes, they don’t seem to care. Jungwoo does the same. The talk dies down, turns to silly gossip of the past. 

 

Doyoung’s older brother is married that spring. At least before, he knew he should wait until his brother had a family of his own before he began pursuing his in earnest. Now, that buffer is gone. Besides, he’s getting older. If he doesn’t marry soon, he knows the rumors will pick back up where they started. He also knows Jungwoo must be feeling the same pressure, because he rarely sees him anymore, except in passing, and always with a girl.

 

One night, Doyoung is woken from a deep sleep by a hand over his mouth. He tries to scream, but the hand all but completely silences it.

 

“It’s me,” Jungwoo whispers. His eyes are wide and his tone is urgent. Doyoung blinks against the dark, recognition flooding his body and relaxing him. Jungwoo feels the change and releases him.

 

“How did you get in here?” Doyoung hisses.

 

“You always leave your window cracked in the summer,” Jungwoo says. “I brought a ladder.”

 

“Okay,” Doyoung says, deciding they don’t need to discuss that any further right now. “Why are you in here?”

 

Jungwoo sits heavily on the edge of his bed. In the dim moonlight, Doyoung can see unfamiliar lines on his face. It’s been almost a year since they have been alone together, and Doyoung is surprised and somehow sad to see that he has changed. His expression is drawn and tight; he is not smiling now. Doyoung’s fingers twitch at his side. He wants to hold him, to do something, just to see his smile again.

 

“My parents want me to propose to this girl,” he begins softly. “I’ve been seeing her for a while—and she’s, you know, she’s nice. But I planned to ask her tonight, and… I just couldn’t do it.”

 

“Why not?” Doyoung asks quietly.

 

Jungwoo turns to look at him. His eyes glitter with unshed tears. “She’s not you,” he says, barely audible.

 

Doyoung feels like he’s on fire. “Jungwoo.”

 

“Doyoung.”

 

The room is still and silent. The clouds have blown past the moon; it is brighter now than before, and the two men sit frozen in a pool of its light, staring at each other. 

 

A tear slips down Jungwoo’s cheek. His voice trembles. “I don’t want to live without you,” he confesses. “I—I could never be happy, not with her, not with anyone. Not with anyone but you, Doyoung, can’t you understand? I can’t do this anymore, I can’t—I thought maybe if we pretended long enough, we could let it go but—but I’ve tried it, and I can’t. I will be miserable for the rest of my life, sick on my memories of you. I…” he takes a huge breath. “I’m going to the woods tonight. I’ll try to live out there, and if I can’t, then I will let the woods kill me. I would much prefer that fate to any alternative.” He reaches out, then stops, hand hovering midair. “Come with me,” he begs. “It would be easier with two.”

 

“We’ll die,” Doyoung protests.

 

“Then we’ll die,” Jungwoo replies.

 

“But my family,” Doyoung begins, but Jungwoo cuts him off.

 

“Gongmyung will take care of them,” he says, and Doyoung can’t even argue because he knows it’s true.

 

“Okay,” Doyoung says breathlessly. “Okay, I’ll go.”

 

“You will?” Jungwoo’s shoulders sag with relief. 

 

“Yes, of course I’ll go,” Doyoung says, sitting up straighter. Adrenaline courses through him now; he’s wide awake. He takes Jungwoo’s hand. “Of course. I’m the same as you. I love you, Jungwoo.”

 

Jungwoo smiles then—it’s smaller and sadder than Doyoung is used to, but it’s a smile, and that’s all that matters. They lean forward, knocking their foreheads together. Doyoung shakes; it’s been so long since he’s been this close to Jungwoo, since he’s felt his skin against his own. “Let’s go in the morning,” Jungwoo says softly. “We can spend the night preparing. We’ll meet after breakfast at the edge of the woods. Promise me.”

 

Doyoung tilts his head closer and kisses him. Though it’s been a year since their last kiss, it's so easy. Doyoung’s body remembers even though his mind tried to forget. Jungwoo climbs into his lab, holding his head between his hands, still kissing him, fierce and desperate.

 

“I love you,” Jungwoo says when they pull away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“See you,” Doyoung whispers. His hands follow Jungwoo’s body of their own accord as he slips from his bed and out his window again, down the ladder and out of sight.

 

Doyoung pads quietly around his rooms, getting his things in order, leafing through his belongings to decide what to take. He has to pack lightly; it cannot be obvious that he’s leaving for good. He packs a few thick blankets, rolled tight, a few tools, a change of clothes. It won’t matter much; in the winter they can retreat to a cave and build fires for warmth. Last, he tiptoes downstairs just as the sun is beginning to light the sky, and rummages through their pantry. He can hunt, and Jungwoo knows the names of every plant, but it will be good to have some easy food when they’re still on the run. He knows they’ll send search parties, and as incompetent as they will be, it will be best to focus on hiding. 

 

He’s just finishing tucking one last roll of bread in his bag when he hears footsteps.

 

“Ma,” he says, turning. “I’m going to take a walk in the woods today.” He gestures to the pack. “I’ll be back in the evening. And… I want to talk to you after dinner. About—about proposals.”

 

His mother lights up. “Of course,” she says. She draws near, brushing hair off his forehead. “I’d be happy to. Don’t go far, alright? Will you be alone?”

 

“No,” Doyoung says. He doesn’t see the point in lying. People will see him with Jungwoo; the news will travel back to her. It will only make her suspicious. “Jungwoo will be joining me.”

 

She pulls her hand back. “Jungwoo?”

 

“Just for old times’ sake,” Doyoung says. “He’s proposing to a girl tonight. We just… wanted to spend our last day as boys together.”

 

His mother’s expression softens once more. “Of course,” she says. “Come home while the sun is still high, alright? The woods are dangerous in the dark.”

 

“Of course,” Doyoung says, nodding. He grabs a piece of bread to eat on the road. “Tell Ba where I’ve gone?”

 

“Yes,” she agrees. “See you tonight.”

 

“See you tonight,” Doyoung echoes, guilt clawing its way up his throat as he turns and pushes his way outside.

 

Jungwoo is waiting for him at the edge of the woods. He lights up when he sees him, waving. Doyoung waves back, grinning.

 

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Jungwoo confesses when he gets close. “Ready?”

 

Doyoung takes a long look over his shoulder, then nods. “Ready.”

 

They’ve hardly taken a step when another voice stops them. “Look, the queers are back,” a young man sneers. Laughter follows. A few more people emerge from nearby shops and houses, either to join in or to watch.

 

“C’mon,” Doyoung mutters. “Let’s lose them.”

 

“Did you think you could fool us?” another boy asks derisively. Doyoung and Jungwoo pick up the pace, keeping their heads down. “Some of the girls who follow you around might buy it, but the rest of us know the truth.”

 

“Where are you going? Come back,” a girl says. “Show us what’s in your bags. Surely you weren’t thinking of running off together? What would people say? Come on, show us.”

 

“Run,” Jungwoo says, breaking into a sprint. Doyoung struggles to follow suit, casting a glance over his shoulder. A small crowd has formed behind them; they’ve begun to fan out.

 

“They’re trying to surround us,” he says to Jungwoo. “Faster, let’s go.”

 

They crash through undergrowth, whip past trees, leap over gnarled roots and fallen logs. The laughter and shouts follow them into the woods, floating between the trees. How could they know? Doyoung wonders to himself as he runs, feet pounding against the earth. We should’ve just gone last night, when it was dark and no one could see. How will we escape them now?

 

“We just have to lose them,” Jungwoo pants from beside him. “Come on, Doyoung, come on!”

 

Doyoung lets his feet carry him on a familiar path, past high rocks and grassy knolls, around sharp bends he once knew so well. But still the voices follow. He pushes himself to go even faster, lungs aching, body aching, heart aching.

 

Suddenly, he’s in their clearing. The rush of the waterfall fills his ears, but it doesn’t drown out the shouts coming from all around them.

 

“Jungwoo,” he gasps, stumbling and falling to the ground. He flails out his hands; they catch Jungwoo’s wrists and he pulls him down with him. “What do we do?”

 

Jungwoo doesn’t answer him. Instead, he turns towards the waterfall. He sets his pack aside and kneels. “Spirit of the forest,” he pleads. “I throw my life at your feet and plead for your help. Please offer us protection like you have for so many years. Please—please let us live here together in peace. Please let them not find us. I can’t go back—we cannot go back. We’ll be killed. Please.”

 

A strange breeze blows through the clearing. Jungwoo turns back to Doyoung, grabbing his hands. He knocks their foreheads together, so hard that Doyoung’s eyes water. “Jungwoo?” Doyoung asks, voice shaking. 

 

“It’s alright.” Jungwoo’s voice is strangely calm. Doyoung feels frozen to the spot—no, frozen isn’t right word. Rooted, like he’s become one with the forest. He feels the thrum of its life beneath his knees, coursing up through his body and giving him strength. “The forest will protect us, Doyoung.” He pulls back a centimeter so he can look him in the eyes. “Will you stay?” he whispers.

 

The breeze turns to a strong wind, stirring up dead leaves around them, but Doyoung hardly notices. “Yes,” he says, voice firm and steady. “Yes, I’ll stay! I love you.”

 

“I love you, too!” Jungwoo leans in for a kiss, and Doyoung closes his eyes. Though the voices are drawing near, he is not afraid. 

 

* * *

 

“The forest took pity on the lovers, and turned them into trees. They live forever in an embrace, protected from those who would wish to harm them,” the boy concludes. “They were saved, and now they know perfect happiness.”

 

“Sure,” one of the other kids snorts. “Only magic doesn’t exist.”

 

“Don’t believe me?” the eldest replies. “Look, if you squint—” The girl opens her eyes, following the line of his arm as he points at the tree. “—it looks like the trees are dancing together, or, some even say, kissing. Some say on nights with no moon, you can hear their laughter echoing through the woods, and see their spirits chasing one another around their trees.”

 

Scattered giggles break out through the group, but the girl stays silent, blinking at the trees. They do look like two lovers, frozen in an embrace. Maybe the story is true, after all.

 

The sun is getting low, and they need to be home for dinner, so the others begin to pick themselves up, dusting off grass and folding up blankets. The girl follows, but still she keeps her eyes on the trees.

 

As they turn to leave, she swears she sees a shadow flicker past the trees, just the flash of something in the dying light, and, carried in on the warm summer breeze, the faint sound of joyous laughter.