25 years earlier

A letter arrived. Hyukjae retreated into the solace of his bedroom, bringing the letter with him. Once settled on his reclining chair—which had been doing a good job in relieving his chronic back pain—he stared at the white envelope that rested nondescript on his lap. Its smooth surface in contrast with his wrinkled hands revealed the nearly sixty years he'd spent out of his life. 

A single name was written in neat and beautiful cursive on the back of the envelope. Aside from that, there was nothing else. 

When Hyukjae saw the letter loosely shoved under his door, his heart fluttered against his chest, thinking of the possibility that it could be from the person he was expecting—hoping. But when he saw the unfamiliar name scribbled on it, his heart dropped. 

Jiyuu. Each character was written carefully, in light elegant , the pen obviously maneuvered with natural precision. Hyukjae couldn't help but laugh at himself. Even if the letter was from Donghae, he would have had trouble believing it. Donghae's handwriting was messy, written in haste and impatience that one could easily mistake it for a child still learning to write.

The shaking of his hands had been harder to control each passing day, but he opened the envelope as gingerly as he could. He didn't want to crumple it. Just in case it's from Donghae. One could still hope. At his age, he should be given a leeway.

It wasn't from Donghae. But when he read through the letter, he couldn't stop his tears.

Mr. Lee Hyukjae,

I apologize for introducing myself through a letter. As much as I want to deliver this news to you in person, my schedule and other priorities that demand my attention wouldn't allow me to do so.

My name is Lee Jiyuu. I'm Lee Donghae's son. Although adopted, my father never failed to make me feel that his blood runs through my veins. He has that magic of making you feel accepted… wanted. That you have a spot in this world, that you belong. I'm sure you know what I mean. He talks a lot about you, you know. He named me Jiyuu, freedom in Japanese because that's what he always wished for you. Freedom. He named me with you in mind. He loves you dearly and is thinking of you all the time with fondness, although I had never missed the glint of sadness that he always tried to hide behind his smile.

I'm going to cut to the chase. I know your history with my father. As you know, he's never good at keeping secrets. I'd also have you know that yes, he's still the same man as he was when you met him. Pure and sincere and innocent. He never let the cruelty of his surroundings blemish his heart. Which is why it breaks my heart to tell you that my father is dying. He has stomach cancer.

He told me not to tell you. You see, he could be very sentimental and dramatic. He said he doesn't want you to see him, skin and bones, and have that image of him be seared into your memory. He wants you to remember him when he was at his prime. 

But I don't believe that that was his only and main reason. My father already accepted his fate. He said he's already come to terms with his death and that he's waiting for it. Although he loves life, he believes one shouldn't cling to it desperately should death decides to arrive. And that's precisely the reason why he doesn't want to see you, because when he does, I'm sure he'll hope for extra time. You may not know this, but you're his main driving force, albeit the distance. He misses you, and that longing grows up to this day. Although he wished me not to reach out to you, I couldn't help it. This would be the first time I disobeyed him, but I know this is the right decision. He wants to see you. I want you to be the last good thing he sees before he passes. 

I hope I'm not asking for too much. If you ever decide to come, my number is written here. Please call me.

Jiyuu

***

Hyukjae felt out of place at the airport. During his fame, he would be greeted by blinding camera flashes before he even got to step out of the car, and frenzied fans, paparazzis, and reporters would follow him as far as they're allowed to go. But every bit of his fame has been spent, and he's grateful to be relieved from the burden of appearing perfect in front of thousand prying eyes. 

His plane has just landed, and if it wasn't for the  passengers drifting him into the airport's lobby like water flowing through the riverbank, he wouldn't have managed to walk out of the plane. His throat was dry and his senses were heightened. He was aware of every minute detail around him—the shuffling of feet, the banters of the old couple beside him, exasperated sighs of tired attendants and service crews, the lull of an engine somewhere, the voice on the speaker announcing the arrival and departure of flights—but beyond those, he couldn't process anything. But he knew he had to be there the moment he read the letter. 

He dialed Jiyuu's number after reading the letter for the nth time. He waited in bated breath for the call to connect. Over the line, Jiyuu's voice greeted him crisp and clear, polite and business-like. However, as soon as he knew it was Hyukjae, his tone softened with relief. He sounded warm, as if he'd known Hyukjae for years. Hyukjae thought he'd be greeted with contempt, but it turned out Donghae only had good things to say about him to his son to warrant acceptance and gentleness from him. He let Jiyuu know that he'll be coming, the young man responding that he'll pick him up at Kansai International Airport. So Donghae lives in Japan, he thought. It was their favorite place. 

He received a message from Jiyuu that he'd be running a few minutes late. Donghae had to be delivered to the ICU for some complications he couldn't understand. His heart pounded like a jackhammer against his ribcage. He thought he was late but Jiyuu assured him after a hellish flight that Donghae was safe—for now—and had gotten out of the intensive care unit.

He ran a one-over at his reflection on the glass window and smoothened out his slightly crumpled pants. He looked pale and his once straight posture was bent with age and hard work. As he stared at his reflection, an avalanche of images of Donghae flooded him. They weren't pleasant and he felt sick and nauseated—Donghae inside a menacing ward, sprawled on a hospital bed with gray, somber sheets, body withered down to a skeleton that you could see through his veins. He staggered under his weight. 

He shut his eyes and strained himself to focus on the people coming and leaving. In that sea of unfamiliar faces, he spotted a man coming towards him. His strides, light and elegant, reminded him of the letter. Jiyuu, he thought, almost certain. Hyukjae searched the young man's expression for any signs of anguish and bad news but Jiyuu looked calm and sanguine. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he heaved out a sigh of relief when Jiyuu greeted him with, "It's alright. Dad's fine. He's conscious."

Jiyuu placed a placating hand on his shoulder before saying with a tight smile, "Although he doesn't know yet that you're coming."

Hyukjae nodded. He didn't know what to say.

"I'm so glad you could come." Jiyuu might not be Donghae's real son but Donghae's warmth and subtlety permeated deeply into him.

Hyukjae relaxed a little. "Thank you for letting me know."

"How was your flight?" Jiyuu asked as soon as they got into his car. 

Hyukjae, finally able to think properly, examined the boy. He looked more European than Asian. He had brown eyes, fair skin, and a high nose. Freckles peppered the bridge of his nose, spreading across his high cheekbones and scattering all the way up to the thin skin under his eyes. A dimple, barely visible, showed up only on his left cheek every time he smiled. His hair was trimmed short, wasn't gelled but neat. He wore a simple t-shirt topped with a black wool coat. He should be in his early or mid-twenties but the lines on his forehead and the dark bags under his eyes made him look older. 

"When you messaged me mid-flight that Donghae was sent to the ICU, I thought I was running out of air, but other than that, it was fine."

Jiyuu smiled at him apologetically while backing the car. 

"How old are you?" Hyukjae asked. 

"22, turning 23 in a week's time," he replied, briefly g