Like an angel, you are blinding to my eyes

          Doojoon thinks that he needs a refund on these sunglasses. He thinks that he either needs a refund or he needs to throw them in Junhyung’s face because Junhyung, being the master of sunglasses and looking emo (“That’s why his office has the biggest window,” Hyunseung says.) sent him these sunglasses via express mail when Doojoon called him and said that for the summer, Yoseob is being sent to Spain and while Yoseob was already ready and decked out to not-be-killed by the sun, Doojoon had chased after the younger man straight from a Korean winter.

          So Junhyung sent him top-of-the-line sunglasses that Junhyung had insisted were worth at least five of their paychecks combined and were supposed to protect Doojoon from going blind and bumping into things like Dongwoon.

          The maknae insisted he has twenty-twenty vision.

          Hyunseung insisted that the maknae only has two eyes.

          Doojoon thinks that he got ripped off because these sunglasses are doing nothing at all. They are not only doing nothing at all—they are utterly useless because it’s not even that sunny outside and they are under the café’s awning, and yet Doojoon has to fight to keep his eyes open while making sure Yoseob doesn’t stray too far away and get kidnapped or something by a pigeon because his sunglasses do absolutely nothing.

          They do absolutely nothing, so Doojoon takes them off violently and stuffs them into his pocket. He takes them off and sneaks into Yoseob’s backpack because Yoseob’s sunglasses seem to be so sun-repellent that Yoseob never even gets headaches from the ridiculous Spanish sunlight. He finds them in the zippered inside of Yoseob’s backpack and slips them over his face—and sighs. Better.

          Better, but then—

          “Hyung, do you have any more bread left?” Yoseob perches on the edge of Doojoon’s knee, looking through his plate and the basket. “If you’re not going to eat it, I want to give the rest to the pigeons near the fountain.” He glances back, skin pink from being held by the sun, eyes bright (always so bright), hair a little bit messy underneath his cap, trickles of sweat running down the nape of his neck. “Aren’t those mine? Where are the fancy ones Junhyung-hyung sent you?”

          Doojoon takes them off and s them into Yoseob’s hand. “Here,” he says. “I hate sunglasses. They don’t do anything for you at all.”

          Yoseob looks amused. “Okay, then, ahjusshi. I’m taking the rest of your bread, okay?”

          Doojoon thinks that maybe it’s not the sun’s fault his eyes are suffering.

I am a woodman

          Doojoon still has to keep up on his work—his father may have let him trade in to another department, but he in some ways has to work even harder now to prove to his father that he’s not just doing this purely for Yoseob—that he can stand the workload too and adjust to these new affairs. He has to keep up his work, but he doesn’t want to take any time off when Yoseob wants to go sightseeing—Doojoon wants to be there and show Yoseob everything he already knows about the countries they’re going through.

          He doesn’t want to steal any time off from that, so he ends up doing it in the hotel lobby while Yoseob is out in his translator internship. He wonders, as he’s waiting for the Internet on his laptop to start up—he wonders what kind of crazy studying Yoseob must have done in addition to all the required studies any student has to do in school to learn all these languages. Doojoon’s always attended international school so Yoseob actually knows more than he does in terms of languages. Doojoon only knows the basics of all the countries’ he’s been through and in some cases, those basics will only cover enough to make sure he doesn’t greet wrongly and cause an international disaster.

You’re my only angel

          It’s weird.

          Doojoon thinks it’s weird how he knows to look up just as Yoseob comes through the revolving doors of the hotel, back from his internship and touring a bit of Madrid with his fellow interns—he thinks it’s weird how he knows the exact moment to look up so that they’re eyes meet across the lobby.

A gift sent from the Heavens

          Yoseob runs across the lobby and no one even looks towards them—they’ve been in this hotel for a week, and already the staff has gotten used to them—has gotten used to Yoseob sprinting across any space and every space whenever he sees Doojoon after they’re separate activities for the day. They’ve gotten used to seeing Yoseob hurl himself at Doojoon as though there were wings on the younger man’s back—they’ve gotten used to seeing Doojoon catch Yoseob in his arms tight and close.

          Their lips meet—just briefly, and Yoseob grins. “Hey there, ahjusshi. How’re you doing?”

          “Bored,” Doojoon says, and tugs teasingly at the other man’s ear.

          Yoseob laughs. “Good thing I’m here now, then.”

 Don’t be sad

          When they reunited in Amsterdam—

          Doojoon tells Yoseob about Hyunseung two days after.

          He tells Yoseob about Hyunseung just two days after they are reunited because he wants to tell Yoseob early—he wants to tell Yoseob before he gets attached to Yoseob again (as though Doojoon isn’t always attached to Yoseob—as though Doojoon won’t always forever be attached to Yoseob even if the younger man doesn’t want him anymore) and before Yoseob gets attached to Doojoon again. Even though Doojoon technically hasn’t done anything wrong, he wants to make sure that Yoseob doesn’t think it was wrong too.

          He’d understand if Yoseob wasn’t okay with it.

          He tells Yoseob about Hyunseung over brunch, on the hotel’s veranda—tells Yoseob the situation, tells Yoseob how Junhyung had brought yet another company daughter to a party, tells Yoseob that it was just , tells Yoseob that Doojoon isn’t sorry because Hyunseung is his friend—Hyunseung is Yoseob’s friend too, so Doojoon isn’t sorry. He tells Yoseob that he’s sorry if it makes Yoseob upset—if it makes him uncomfortable, but he’s not sorry he had with Hyunseung.

          Doojoon waits, watching Yoseob’s expression.

          Yoseob takes a sip of coffee.

          “So,” Yoseob says quietly, looking down and Doojoon feels his heart sinking. He feels his heart sinking and wishes that Yoseob would at least look up so he can gauge the other man’s expression. “So, Ahjusshi—”

          Ahjusshi?

          Doojoon’s heart rises a little and Doojoon thinks it’s safe to reach out and tip Yoseob’s chin up—he tips Yoseob’s chin up and is almost shocked—almost has a heart attack—almost falls out of his chair in relief—

          Because Yoseob is smiling.

          It’s a sad smile—a little shaky, but at least it’s not a scowl—at least it’s not tears—

          “You know, hyung,” Yoseob says and his own voice is suddenly taking on the same tone as Doojoon’s—apologetic even though there’s nothing to apologize for and guilty even though they were broken up and there was nothing wrong at the time, “there’re a lot of nice clubs in Europe.” He’s not looking at Doojoon anymore and sounds more nervous and scared than Yang Yoseob should ever sound. “There’re a lot of nice clubs and—and—I—“

          Yoseob’s hands fall into his lap. “I missed you,” he says in a voice that’s almost inaudible. “I missed you and I was with the other interns and we were at a club and I got drunk and it was right at the beginning too—only in Paris—but I already missed you and—and I thought you’d tell me not to go—I thought—so—I was drunk, I swear and—I don’t even know—don’t even know his name—just—some guy—and—I—I missed you.”

          Doojoon doesn’t think this is legal.

          He definitely knows it’s not morally right—it’s not right, not allowed, just not—not anything—it’s just—he knows that it’s something along the lines of cruel and inhuman and just wrong to make Yang Yoseob look this sad. Look this miserable. And it’s Doojoon’s fault. It’s Doojoon’s fault and he’s so stupid and terrible and he knows but he’s still terrible enough to be relieved that Yoseob isn’t angry or upset about Hyunseung because if Yoseob decided to make things officially through because of that then Doojoon would probably go to Paris just to throw himself off of the Eiffel Tower.

          “Yah,” Doojoon says quietly, and he holds Yoseob’s hand underneath the table—slips over the younger man’s wrist and slides over his fingers. Yoseob looks up, his eyes a little worse for wear. Doojoon offers a small smile. “I missed you too.” He uses his other hand to Yoseob’s cheek. “But I’m here now.”

My love must be lacking

          Yoseob gets homesick when they are in England.

          He gets homesick when they are in England because it’s rainy and downcast and Doojoon knows that Yoseob misses Korea’s springs—misses the sun and the spring weather that isn’t too warm and isn’t too cold—misses being able to wear t-shirts, and misses being able to wear a sweatshirt over it at the same time. He knows that Yoseob misses Korean food, misses real Korean food, misses speaking the language to someone else other than Doojoon and the other interns—misses his family, misses Junhyung and Hyunseung and Dongwoon, misses visits to Doojoon’s office.

Anything you want

          Doojoon can’t do anything about it. He’s never gone through homesickness (how can you be sick for something you’ve never had?) and even now, he still doesn’t feel it. He misses Seoul sometimes—yes—but he’s not sick for it. He’s not upset that he isn’t back in Korea. And even though he’s never been through it, he knows that there’s no real way to make it better. He could find true Korean food, could research Korean-focused areas, he could do all those and it still wouldn’t make things any different.

          Homesickness is just something that’s endured until it eases up.

          He can’t do anything for Yoseob.

          And it hurts.

I can do anything you want

          It hurts on days like today.

          It hurts on days when it’s raining hard—when Yoseob has a day off and sits curled up on a couch in the suite’s living room, gazing off out the window with no work to occupy him and make him forget the fact that he’s not walking down the streets of Seoul underneath the dark Korean sky eating ddukbokki at a night festival. It hurts on days like this because Doojoon mostly works from his laptop at whatever hotel they are, and on days like this, Doojoon has to watch Yoseob hurt.

          So it hurts.

          It hurts, but there’s nothing Doojoon can do.

          There’s nothing Doojoon can do about it, so he just stands up quietly and walks to the sofa, taking a seat beside Yoseob. He takes a seat beside Yoseob and places his hand on the younger man’s cheek, fingers lightly turning Yoseob’s face towards Doojoon. The younger man raises his eyebrows mildly, a little tiredly. “What’s up, ahjusshi?” he says with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

          Doojoon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reply because he knows that’s not what Yoseob needs—Yoseob doesn’t need to hear anything, doesn’t really need to talk. Yoseob needs something else—needs a country that’s thousands of miles away—needs something that Doojoon can’t give him or get him—he needs something that Doojoon can’t do for him, but Doojoon can try. Doojoon can try, so he takes Yoseob’s arms and pulls him into the older man’s lap, wraps his arms around Yoseob and lets the small body curl up close.

          “It must be nice,” Yoseob says quietly. “At least when you travel, you don’t have to miss anything. Missing things .”

          “Yeah,” Doojoon murmurs into the crown of the other man’s hair, “missing things .” He doesn’t tell Yoseob that the only reason Doojoon doesn’t have to miss anything when he travels isn’t because he doesn’t really have a home.

          It’s because his home is in his arms right now.

Even as the days go by

          They go back to Korea when Yoseob’s internship ends and sends him back to home base for a while to recuperate while they evaluate his progress and decide if they want to take him into their company after he finishes with the rest of his schooling here in Seoul. They go back to Korea and find out that a lot has changed, and at the same time, not much has really changed at all.

          They return to find out that Dongwoon is in love with a bright young man with a not-so-bright profession. They return to find out that Junhyung and Hyunseung are still the same—that Junhyung is still being dragged around by his parents to different girls, while Hyunseung is still playing puppet—they find out that that’s pretty much the same, except now, Hyunseung’s cut his own strings and Junhyung thinks that this means it’s time to give up.

My love does not change

          Doojoon resurrects his apartment and he and Yoseob stay there.

          “I know him,” Yoseob tells Doojoon in surprise that night after they meet Lee Kikwang. Yoseob tells while the older man finishes unpacking the last of his clothes and stuffing them haphazardly into a drawer. “And I knew that place and the card Dongwoonie had too. I drive old, creepy businessmen there all the time.”

          Doojoon looks at him, and doesn’t know if he should be concerned or worried or gloomy or just unhappy in general. “You used to let old, creepy businessmen into your taxi?” he says flatly because this is not-a-good-sign.

          “Oh, off,” Yoseob says, bouncing up and down on their bed. “The closest any of them have come to molesting me is you, ahjusshi.” He grins. “I usually don’t turn around to get money.”

          Doojoon laughs. “So you were attracted to my y rearview mirror reflection?”

          Yoseob reaches out from the bed and kicks the back of Doojoon’s shins. “ off, hyung,” he says, laughing too. “But seriously—Kikwang never gets the creepy old guys. I drove lots of over-privileged CEO brats to that place too—I think Kikwang usually takes those more than the old guys. He gets to pick which clients he takes, since he only does it part time and he’s really good.”

          “How do you know he’s really good?” Doojoon says, flat again.

          Yoseob stares at him.

          Doojoon stares back.

          Yoseob blinks.

          “What?” Doojoon says.

          Yoseob explodes into laughter, falling onto his back and rolling around on the bed with his arms wrapped around his stomach. He laughs and laughs and Doojoon stands there, watching him and feeling like this is an inside joke that Yoseob has with his own crazy self about Doojoon that Doojoon doesn’t even want to know about. “Fine,” Doojoon says. “Be that way.” He takes a seat on the bed gingerly, careful to stay out of Yoseob’s path of roly-poly-laughing-destruction.

          “It’s just,” Yoseob says (is he wiping tears away?), sighing contentedly after the laughter recedes, “hyung—you’re so stupid. Me giving creepy, old rich men s in the back of my taxi while having some whirlwind affair with Kikwang is a lot less likely than—I don’t know,” he says thoughtfully, “you pulling a Junhyung and going off to a matchmaking date.”

          But then—Yoseob starts to look really thoughtful. He raises his eyebrows at Doojoon. “Yah—ahjusshi, do your parents want grandkids or something?”

Until the moment I close my eyes

          Doojoon gazes back at Yoseob—he gazes back at Yoseob and leans in slowly to kiss him, leisurely and lazily and languid and warm. He kisses Yoseob and the younger man’s hand comes up against Doojoon’s cheek, thumb grazing just beneath the bottom rim of Doojoon’s eye.

          “I don’t know,” Doojoon shrugs, after they draw apart. “But if they do,” he says lightly, putting his hand against the crook of Yoseob’s hip and squeezing, “then I guess we should start looking into orphanages soon.”

I will look only at you

          Yoseob is good enough.

          His evaluations have come out perfect—with flying colors, outstanding, and he’s deemed good enough, more than enough, they’d be honored to have him their company as soon as he graduates. He can translate for whoever he wants—celebrities or businesses or the government—whatever country he wants—his marks are perfect so of course they want him for their agency.

          Yoseob has been given the offer and once again, this means he would be constantly traveling. He would be constantly traveling but Doojoon can’t follow him anymore. It can’t be like before because the internship was a temporary thing—it was temporary and Doojoon’s father let Doojoon do his work from whatever country Yoseob was in because it would only be for a few months. It would only be for a few months but if Doojoon wants to stay the head of foreign affairs, he can’t go to whatever country Yoseob’s next job takes him to.

          If Yoseob signs with this agency after he graduates, it’ll be all up to the luck of the draw to see what countries he ends up in and in what order—he would come back to Korea every so often, but Doojoon won’t be in Korea every so often because now he’s the head of foreign affairs. He has to travel too.

I’ll never make you cry

          They have the night before Yoseob’s graduation.

          They have the night before Yoseob has to choose.

          It’s not fast and it’s not slow. It’s not too hot, not too passionate, not playful or flirting, not angry or sad. Doojoon doesn’t really know what emotion to put to it—doesn’t know if he can put an emotion to it at all. He doesn’t know how to feel—doesn’t really know what to whisper into Yoseob’s ear, doesn’t know with what kind of feelings he’s holding the younger man with. He doesn’t know—doesn’t know anything except that he’s nervous. He’s nervous because this is different than the last time they had before a big day.

          The last time they had before a big day, it was the night before Yoseob’s flight to Paris left.

          It was farewell .

          This time—this time is different because Doojoon is going to try something he didn’t try last time. This time Doojoon is going to try something that Yoseob told him he should’ve done the last time. This time Doojoon isn’t going to say goodbye right away—isn’t going to say goodbye at all if he can help it and he doesn’t know if it’ll work. He doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he can’t let something as final as this be goodbye—he won’t and he won’t and he won’t and he won’t.

          Not without a fight.

So please live here with me

          This morning, Doojoon is the one driving Yoseob.

          He drives and drives and they are both quiet—they are both wearing suits with Yoseob’s graduation gown and cap in the back of the car. They are on the toll road headed to Yoseob’s university and Doojoon is checking his watch—he’s checking his watch and listening to the morning news and the morning traffic announcements and the morning weather report and the—

          “Doojoon-hyung,” Yoseob says, confused—confused and then quickly alert, “Hyung—hyung, this isn’t the right exit—”

          Doojoon doesn’t listen to him and continues to swerve out of toll, turning into the road he’s memorized after looking at maps over and over again on the internet. He continues to drive—continues to drive towards his destination despite Yoseob’s dumbfounded expression and constant questions (“Hyung—no, seriously, are you trying to kidnap me?”).

          Doojoon just continues to drive.

I love you

          “Wow,” Yoseob says quietly when Doojoon finally comes to a stop on the side of the road, wheels digging into the gravel. “I didn’t know you’d still remember how to get to this place.”

          “I looked it up,” Doojoon says, just as quietly. He unlocks the doors and gets out of the car. “Come on.”

          Yoseob follows, slamming the passenger door closed and Doojoon takes his hand, leading him towards the field—through the tall grass, waving in the spring wind. They walk and walk, field flowers scattered here and there, a few small petals and flies buzzing through the air. Doojoon pulls him gently towards the center of the field, underneath the blue sky, adorned with hazy clouds.

          When they reach the middle of the field, Doojoon lets go of Yoseob’s hand and reaches into the inside of his suit, pulling something out of the inner pocket—something white, flat and covered in plastic, a metal clip attached to it. He takes it out and holds it in his hands, not showing the front to Yoseob—just holds it in his own hands and looks at Yoseob straight in eye.

          “With that agency,” Doojoon says, “you get to choose, right? If you want to translate for a celebrity or the government or a business. For this—this—it’s a business, you don’t get to choose. And I think your agency pays more too, since you’d be on your own and you wouldn’t be under anyone. You’d—you’d probably get to go to more places too, and if you translated for a celebrity, you’d get to do exciting stuff and be on shows and that kind of thing, right? You might even get to pick what places you want to go and change up on clients—”

          Yoseob suddenly snatches it from Doojoon’s hand, turns it around, and stares down at it.

          Doojoon’s heart feels like it’s about to implode. “You don’t,” he says nervously, “you don’t have to. It’s just—I just talked it over with my dad. I know that the agency pays a lot more, probably, and it’d probably have tons more benefits and—I don’t know, just more in general, and I know you’d be bored to always do business stuff all the time, but I just—I just—in case—”

          Yoseob looks up, and Doojoon notices that he’s gripping the flat, piece of paper and plastic so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. “In case what?” Yoseob asks in a whisper—so softly that the breeze almost drowns him out. His eyes look into Doojoon’s intently, waiting.

          “You told me that I should’ve held you back at least a little,” Doojoon says quietly, “that I should’ve fought for you.” He wraps his hands around Yoseob’s stiff, white-knuckled ones. “This is me fighting.”

          Yoseob looks down at their joined hands. “No,” he murmurs. “No,” and he looks up. Their eyes meet and Doojoon lets go of the other man’s hands knowingly. “This,” Yoseob pinches the small metal clip and clips the piece of paper and plastic to his front pocket, “this is you winning, ahjusshi.”

          They’ve kissed in front of the Eiffel Tower. They’ve kissed in Big Ben’s shadow. They’ve kissed in a crowded night market in Hong Kong. They’ve kissed with the lights of the Washington Monument bearing down on them. They’ve kissed amidst the bustling of Tokyo’s nightlife. They’ve kissed everywhere and anywhere and Doojoon figures that from now on, they’ll kiss in so many parts of the world, that there won’t be a corner of the globe untouched.

          But he figures—he figures it’s good to start their journey from now on where it all began.

Yang Yoseob

Department of Foreign Affairs

Translator

I will hide your wings forever