I’m not sure when it happened, but there was no denying it. At some point on this trek through the wilderness I have developed feelings for Sunggyu, feelings that make me wish that things were different, that I wasn’t in the middle of a hike for my home, that the bombs never dropped. I know that would be silly, though, because if I care for this… thing… that I have with Sunggyu, then I ought to admit that without this catastrophe happening there would be no way we would ever have met.

The Korean popstar and the Alaskan student, yeah right.

Tonight is a colder night than we’ve been used to, about a month into our hike; we left Houston behind several days prior, and the supplies we gained there bolstered our spirits. As we make camp, though, the wind picks up and howls through our small break, blowing out our meager fire and bringing a cold chill with it. As we huddle together in our sleeping bags and my blanket, Sunggyu surprises me as he begins to sing.

The song he sings is sad, and though I can’t understand a word he says I can feel the sorrow dripping from his tongue. He has tears in his eyes when I dare to look, and a faraway look that says that he misses home. The thought of home and my family and how it would feel to be stuck across an ocean from them… it breaks through to my heart and I reach over to wrap him into a hug before I can think about my actions.

He stiffens for a moment, then his song falters and his voice breaks into sobs, the dry, lonely cries of a man who will never see his home again. It makes me wonder once again why he decided to come with me, but I don’t question him, only offer what small comfort I can. 

It seems to be forever before his tears stop, his shaking ceases, though I know less than thirty minutes has passed. He pulls away from me to wipe his face with his back turned, which I can understand, so I clear my throat and shift in my sleeping bag.

“Um, goodnight,” I say quietly, and he doesn’t respond.

After that night we were a little awkward, but it faded away after a few days. We fell back into a companionable easiness that for some inexplicable reason made the longing in my heart even worse. I found myself watching him way too often, caught myself staring when I should be gathering firewood or rationing out our food. He’s seen me doing it a few times and needles to say, it’s embarrassing.

We’re walking up the highway, hands shoved into our pockets for warmth and protection from the breeze when he starts to sing again. It’s the first time he has done so since that night outside of Houston, and it surprises me that it is a happy song, an upbeat melody that makes me smile without even knowing what he’s saying. He sings it with such a lightness that makes me think of summer days, despite the lingering chill of the air that threatens and tells me that winter will be here soon. 

Honestly speaking, it chases my worries away.

When we stop for the night, he builds the fire as I step away from camp to set up some snares I built the night prior.