Some stories are meant to entertain, and some stories are meant to enlighten. Some stories are meant to break your heart and the dam holding back your tears, and some are meant to make you laugh so hard that your stomach hurts. Some stories begin with poetry and end with some witty remark, and in between the two is love and strife and a cast of memorable characters.

 

Kim Jongin has no way to make his story interesting anymore. He is simply trying to make it to the next page.

 

He comes home after his nine to five desk job to a clean, moderately furnished home. His husband, Do Kyungsoo, has returned from his own management job a local retailer, and is preparing dinner. "TV's fixed," is all Kyungsoo says when he hears the door open and Jongin toes off his shoes, nodding absently. Kyungsoo doesn't hear the acknowledgement, but he doesn't repeat himself.

 

Dinner is a flagrantly dull affair. Kyungsoo recounts the tales of particularly idiotic customers, smiles and huffs politely at Jongin's failed attempts at humor, and Jongin compliments the food and expresses his relief at being home. When Kyungsoo meets his eye across the table, he sees a tepid affection and comfort. Kyungsoo's eyes are as wide and beautiful as they always have been, but they are transparent. He sees everything he expects to see.

 

Verse, chorus, verse. He knows this life like he still remembers the last dance routine he performed. The world is no longer mysterious.

 

Jongin cleans the dishes, and Kyungsoo takes a shower. Jongin showers and Kyungsoo reads his book. They watch a half-hour episode of a weeknight television show that neither of them particularly care for. They go to bed, Kyungsoo facing the window and Jongin facing Kyungsoo's back.

 

Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

 

 

 

If Kyungsoo still loves Jongin, he loves him in a way Jongin doesn't understand anymore.