Time cannot be bent, mended, reversed as we please.
But when Fate gives us a second chance.
Time is put at her mercy.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What’s it doing here?”

“Is it alive?”

“It’s moving!”

There was a collective shriek as the forest spirits and apparitions gathered around a small bundle of white cloth they found at the base of the largest tree. With trembling hands, they lifted the fabric embroidered with 혁재, and were awed at the sight of a baby’s large, single-lidded eyes.

That was, until he started crying and the spirits were thrown into another state of panic. One of the braver spirits came closer and placed his mask on the baby’s face. Almost instantly, the boy’s cries turned into laughter. The spirit took back his mask in shock, but the baby started crying again and he was quickly coaxed into putting the mask back on the baby.

It was at that moment that the forest spirits fell in love and decided to take in this abandoned boy, to make him one of their own; and it was at that very same moment that a mother sat by her son’s sleeping form on a hospital bed, praying for the day he would soon wake up.

✦

“And? What do you think?”

Donghae spread his arms and spun around, showing off the new and still crisp fabric of his school uniform, as Hyukjae watched him silently from his seat on the stone steps.

“It’s nice.”

Donghae grinned, the familiar sparkle in his eyes whenever they meet again after a year somehow made his features glow.

“I’m going to be in middle school soon!”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” Donghae puffed his chest, “I’m a big boy now!”

“Sure you are.”

It had been two years since they first met—the cicadas singing in the heat, the sound of trees swaying, and the image of Hyukjae waiting patiently on the steps have become his sanctuary. Donghae was taller now, albeit still shorter than most kids his age, but he was glad that he could reach Hyukjae’s waist without tiptoeing.

They would talk and Hyukjae would show him all the new, beautiful places he’d discovered during fall, winter, and spring. Donghae would tell him about all the crazy people he’d meet back home in the city, people like Jongwoon who collected bugs and Heechul, crazy eccentric Heechul, who kissed him on the lips even though they just met (Hyukjae turned oddly quiet after that).

There was no single place he loved most. Every meadow and stream, every odd set of ancient stones and shrines, every cliff, every cave, every field of flowers—Donghae grew more and more enchanted by the forest, Hyukjae by his side all the while. He had even managed to befriend a group of spirits that lived in a tree, smiling and laughing with them, unaware of Hyukjae’s heavy gaze as he watched the growing boy behind his mask.

Every year, it was the same.

Donghae would rush to the forest whenever he could, and Hyukjae would be there waiting for him. It was a silent agreement, a rhythm they’d fallen into and it became almost natural, so rid of awkwardness despite how little they see each other a year. Even grandpa had gotten used to Donghae’s little escapades, although demanding attention and help with household chores from time to time, he’d let the boy wander off, so long as he returned by sunset.

“—and then they just pour a bottle of water on me!”

“The whole thing?”

“Yeah!”

“But didn't you agree to the game?”

“Well, uh, yeah b-but I was just so tired, I don’t even remember falling asleep-”

“Pfft-”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The two sat on the ground, leaning their backs against a tree. The breeze was cooler there than anywhere else and Donghae was sifting his hand through the grass, inspecting its round-shaped leaves. It was a gradual change, the kind that you don’t realize it’s happening until it’s right smack in your face because suddenly, Donghae is taller, his shoulders are broader, his voice is deeper, his jawline defined and although he still had that odd quirk in his smile and although he still stumbled over his words, Donghae was no longer that little boy who followed Hyukjae around, played silly games with him, and smeared ice cream all over his chin.

Hyukjae realized that, the moment he did not have to look so far down to see Donghae’s smile, and Donghae realized that too, the moment he looked to his side and saw Hyukjae’s lips, then the outline of his cheekbone, then his eyes—oh his eyes—as Hyukjae lifted his mask when a butterfly landed on its nose. Then, they smile at each other and hearts start pounding.

Every year, it was the same, but also, slowly, a little different.

✦

 “Is it done?”

“Not yet.”

“How ‘bout now?”

“No.”

Sometimes, it makes me wonder.

Donghae leaned over Hyukjae’s shoulder, hands clamped tight behind his back as always, his fingers growing pale as they squeezed together in an attempt and constant reminder to not get too close. He watched with wide eyes as Hyukjae dipped a knot of fabric and wire into wax, and expertly wrapping it in aluminum foil.

“And then? Then what?”

“Patience.”

“But you can fix it, right?”

“You should trust me by now.”

I feel myself changing. I don’t have to look so high up to see him.

It was his last day of summer vacation that year and Donghae wanted to make it special by buying a sky lantern from an old man who sold trinkets along the road. Nonetheless—Donghae being Donghae—the moment he managed to figuratively drag Hyukjae to the nearest area clear of trees, ripped open the plastic bag and in his excitement, ended up throwing the wick into the stream—soaking it in water and rendering it useless.

After a several rounds of depressed rolling on the grass, mumbling about lost dreams and pointless fantasies, Hyukjae managed to convince him that it wasn’t all that hard to make their own wick and that he could even make one for him right now. And so, Donghae eagerly watched Hyukjae attach his makeshift wick onto the lantern, jumping in glee when he managed to hook it on right.

Or run so fast to keep up.

“You’re amazing!” Donghae all but squealed, his voice cracking at the end.

And maybe it was a precaution, maybe out of habit, but Hyukjae reached for a stick after hearing how happy Donghae sounded, ready to smack him on the head—a happy Donghae meant a clingy Donghae, he knew that by now. So when that same Donghae merely lit a candle and set the wick on fire, watching with glittering eyes as the lantern floated into the darkening sky, Hyukjae was stunned.

“Hurry,” Donghae clamped his hands in front of him, “make a wish!”

Hyukjae blinked at his smile, once, twice, then chuckled as Donghae shut his eyes tight and mumbled under his breath, a wrinkle between his brows and a pout on his lips slowly forming as he whispered to the lantern in the sky.  

But Hyukjae looks the same as he did all those years ago.

“I guess I should too.”

Hyukjae craned his neck up, removed his mask, and closed his eyes, wishing for a wish he knew would never come true and blinding himself from the intense gaze of Donghae’s warm brown eyes as they raked over his features, from his jawline to his nose, to his smooth single lids.

How long will this last?

“Thank you.”

“W-what? I—” Donghae spluttered, “I should be saying that!”

“Just…” Hyukjae turned to him, smiled, and he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him, “thank you.”

And then, I start thinking.

That night, Donghae walked home not with the image of a yellow lantern joining the stars of the night sky, but with the image of Hyukjae’s soft smile imprinted in his mind.

His soft, but sad, sad smile.

Even when I’m old and frail, I won’t leave this person’s side.

✦

“All packed?”

Donghae laid flat on his back, fanning himself weakly on the floor with one of grandpa’s giant fans made for the summer heat. He had already finished his chores, his bags zipped and ready to go, as soon as his mom came back from her panic buying at the supermarket, they were ready to leave on their train home.

“Yeah,” He stared blankly at the ceiling, Hyukjae’s voice somehow ringing in his head.

“Come here then,” Grandpa sat cross-legged on the floor of his balcony, a plate of sliced watermelons by his side. “Spend some time with your gramps before you two leave me alone again for the rest of the year.”

Donghae smiled sheepishly and crawled beside him, quickly grabbing a slice and biting into it. Grandpa chuckled at the red juice that trickled down his chin and onto the floorboards.

“Mmh! So sweet!”

“Messy as always.”

“But grandpa, the watermelons here are the best,” He mumbled between slurps and spitting out seeds.

“Don’t you know?” Grandpa seemed smug, “it’s because summer here is so hot.”

“That’s why they’re sweet?”

“Mmh,” the old man nodded and stared out at the tree hanging over his garden in what seemed like a bout of nostalgia. Its leaves were green, thick and bright under the sun, the cicadas singing songs from the bark, but slowly, some branches began to strip—a small step towards autumn. “But just as the heat in summer is intense, so is the cold in winter.”

“Really?”

“It’s the kind that bites into the bones, and I can’t imagine surviving out here without that heater your mother bought me with her first paycheck. Ah, the snow is so beautiful but so harsh…”

Donghae sat in silence, the juice from the watermelon rolling down from his fingers to his wrist.

And from that moment on, he could never really hear anything. Not the shrill voice of his mom as they waved goodbye to grandpa, or the sounds of the train as they bounded home.

✦

“Donghae-ssi?”

He jolted awake, grasping in a lethargic lag where he was and what he was doing. Donghae looked up from the pen and paper he had on his desk, to the girl calling out to him from the door of the classroom.

“Are you alright?” She blinked as she wrapped a scarf around her neck, “class ended almost an hour ago.”

The desks were empty, board clean of the discussion he realized he hadn’t paid any attention to, and the lights off.

“Y-yeah,” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m fine, just have my head in the clouds, I guess.”

“Well, do you want me to wait for you? We can walk home together.”

“No need,” Donghae dismissed the idea quickly and sent her a quick smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waved goodbye and said something after, it might’ve been important, maybe homework for the next day but Donghae could not bring himself to pay enough attention. He sighed deeply and looked back down at the words he had messily written across a page torn from his notebook. They were sloppy and meaningless, random and with no direction but somehow, it worked because it was so…him.

His pen hovered over the name of the person he dedicated his letter to, and hovered even longer over the empty space meant for the address. He stared out at the snow falling outside the classroom window, wondering how the flakes would look if they were floating through the trees of the forest, if they would slide down the pale skin of Hyukjae’s fingers.

Donghae sighed.

✦

This had never happened before.

At least, not to this extent.

Donghae thought he was used to it, the months away from each other, the days spent in fall, winter and spring moving on with the rest of his life, outside the trees of the enchanting forest. He grew up like this. He thought he was used to thinking of summer as a reward, something to look forward to amidst exams and unwarranted school drama—not like this.

Because now, as he trudged down the street with his hands buried deep in his pockets and beanie resting snugly over his brown hair, there was that same feeling. It was a tug in his gut that made him want to squirm, curl up in bed and shout at the snowflakes dropping endlessly from the sky, all at the same time.

When had he gotten to this extent?

When had summer become something he longed so deeply for?

“Donghae-ssi!”

He turned his head, and nodded curtly at the blonde waving at him.

“Good morning.”

She greeted back and smiled, “I noticed you’ve been quite out of it, so I thought that maybe we could walk to school together? You seem lonely.”

Donghae only nodded and they walked side by side, their breaths forming small puffs over their lips and he looked up, watching snowflakes trickle down from the gray sky, unaware of both the girl’s quick side-glances and the patch of slippery ice on the road. Nonetheless, being the clumsy guy Donghae was, he would have slipped and fallen ungracefully on his if not for the quick hold the blonde took on his hand.

“Careful,” she breathed and with pink cheeks, held onto his hand tight, all the way until they reached school. “The roads c-can get slippery.”