You were three when you met him; he was five and a “big boy.”

Your mommy told you to be like him because he wasn’t crying. You dipped your head, hiding behind your bangs as said little boy gave your mother a bright smile and lisped through missing gaps in his teeth, “Ahjjuma, I don’t cry because Minnie is a big boy.”

You cried harder because your mother patted his cheek affectionately and pried your hands off her once pristine white woolen coat. “Ryeowook, no more tears, darling. I’ll be back later.”

The little boy smiled up at your mother, waving goodbye happily as you sank to your knees, sobbing your small heart away because you felt like you’d been abandoned. There was a chubby hand on your shoulder and you stared up, wide-eyed like your daddy does when he knows your mommy is upset with him. The little boy held out his hand, his smile huge and inviting.

You took it tentatively and he pulled you to your feet, wrapping his little arms around your body. “Don’t cry anymore. It makes Minnie sad.”

He played with you all day, helped you build a block fort and told you about coloring inside the lines. Sungmin, as you came to find out his name really was, had an affinity for the color pink, and though you thought that was odd for a “big boy” you didn’t really mind. He became your first friend that day, and the following morning when your mommy left you again, you didn’t cry because for some reason, you didn’t want Minnie to ever be sad.

You were seven when you watched your father pack his bags and leave home; he was nine and told you that he’d hold your hand.

Your father was rummaging in the closet, pulling down coats, shirts, and pressed pants. He muttered things about foolish actions and endless regret. It’s beyond you, and you’re too young to understand but he was packing, so you thought he was going on a trip.

“Appa?”

Your father stopped zipping up the large luggage bag and turned to face you, his eyes bloodshot and sad. “Ryeowook, go to your room, son.”

“Where are you going? Can I come too?”

His answer was short and crisp, “No.”

“But why not? I’m a good boy. Why can’t I come, too?”

He ignored your questions as Sungmin came up behind you and pulled you toward your bedroom. “Let’s go play ninjas, Wookie,” Sungmin encouraged.

However, you fought against his hold and followed your father down the wooden staircase, still asking him where he was going, why he was taking so much. The front door slammed in your face but still you brought you small hands to the knob, turning and it sprinting after him. He didn’t look at you, not even once, as he put his bags into the car. He just said “goodbye” and drove away.

You followed his car down the street and forced your short legs to move faster but he turned a corner and was gone. “DADDY!”

“Wookie,” Sungmin’s sad voice hit your ears and you threw yourself into his arms and he held onto you tightly. “It’s okay.”

You knew it wouldn’t be, but when Sungmin said it, a ray of hope spanned the darkness that befell your short life. Sungmin would make it better… he always did.

You were ten when the older kids threw sand in your eyes and called you a girl; he was twelve and punched one of them in the face before they beat him up.

The sandcastle was almost perfect, though you weren’t exactly thrilled that they’d banned the use of plastic cups on the playground. The shape you’d been aiming for was only slightly off; wet sand would have made it better. You took a few steps back to observe your masterpiece, marveling at how the grains seamed to make your palace sparkle. You remembered telling Sungmin about the place in your dreams that you’d love to escape to – a home on the beach where your mother and father weren’t arguing over where you would live or when your father would “get off his lazy and send some child support.”

Your mother was a graceful and poised woman until it came to her cheating ex-husband.

“Look! It’s the little girl!”

You stiffened because you would know the voice of Shin Donghee anywhere. You looked up slowly, just barely glancing at the burly figure of the local bully and his trusty sidekick, Kim Kibum. They both knew how to push your buttons and unusually you’d ignore them but they taunted you. They said you were too girly to be a boy and you were better off dead than pretending. Those were hurtful words that you were not prepared for. You felt the sting of sadness and the burn of deep regret that you were so feminine looking, but you couldn’t help it that you were your mother’s child.

“What is this, huh, Seowook?” Kibum mockingly called you their favorite name for you – a girl rendition to belittle you. “A sand castle! Ha, Dong, he’s making a sandcastle. Are you gonna play with your Barbies now?”

You stared determinedly at the ground; not meeting their eyes until Shindong reached forward and pulled your chin up. You screamed when your sandcastle was destroyed, Kibum’s dusty tennis shoes making quick work of it, stomping on your creation. And then they you, Donghee kicking the dirt in your eyes.

The sting in your eyes was unreal and the world became blurred and scarred. You heard him before you could clearly make him out. Sungmin was atop Kibum, throwing fists faster than you thought possible.

By the time the teachers found you all, the tables had turned and Donghee and Kibum had Sungmin pinned to the concrete. His lip was busted and his eye was swollen shut. You hugged him tightly later on as his mother berated him for fighting.

“Why did you do it?” You sniffed, snuggling into his body heat.

“They hurt you.” Sungmin stared at you through his puffy eyes and smiled gently. “No one is allowed to hurt you.”

You were sixteen when you realized you were gay; he was eighteen and going out with Sunny.

She had shiny hair and a mega-watt smile. She was a small person, with delicate curves and soft skin. She fit perfectly in his arms. Everywhere they went, people bragged about how perfect they looked together and you couldn’t deny that… but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

You knew that Lee Sunkyu, dubbed Sunny because her vivacious personality, was a decent person. But you could read the fraud in her smile and mannerisms. She was not the innocent girl everyone made her out to be and she was never good enough for him. You were determined to prove that. You had to make him see her for the liar that she was.

The day you had your proof, you took it straight to him. You never stopped to question how he would hurt by this revelation, but acted on impulse. You stood in front of him, showed him the video on your hand phone and smiled as it was a deed well done. You had exposed her because she wasn’t good enough for him.

Sungmin’s hardened exterior cracked and he told you to get out. He had cussed at you and shoved you from his room. He didn’t speak to you for two whole weeks. It felt like hell to you. You just needed to hear his voice, to see him smile, to feel him hug you.

You wondered why you cared so much about the little things, why you wanted the cheating girl far from him, and when it hit you, it hurt like hell. You loved him… you loved him in a way you shouldn’t.

That night, you let your mother hold you like she did when your father left, you cried into her nightdress and she soothed her fingers through your hair, reassuring you that no matter what, she’d love you. Still, despite her concerned words and motherly motions, your heart hurt because you knew he’d never want you, no matter how much you longed for him.

You were twenty-one when you realized you always wanted him; he was twenty-three and made love to you.

He was wearing the tie you had given him for his last birthday, a pale pink with silver swirls that complimented the sparkles in his eyes. You shouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes twinkled when he was happy, or how they could smolder dangerously when he was upset. You were his best friend and you might have been gay, openly in fact, because you had nothing to hide, but he wasn’t. To the extent of your knowledge, Sungmin was as straight as an arrow, and a ty one at that.

Besides, you had gotten over the crush. You had moved on; you’d met Henry. You were in a stable relationship. You were happy. Sungmin was happy for you.

You didn’t deny yourself the truth behind the reputation he’d built up for himself – he was after all, very close friends with Lee Hyukjae and Kim Heechul, avid playboys who could turn on anyone like a switch. They were open to anything, falling in and out of beds, going from night to night, welding thoughts and bodies into an endless chain of debauchery. Sungmin had become one of them. He would do almost anything if the opportunity presented itself.

That night, in the handsome tie you’d given him, he was trapped between a wall and Cho Kyuhyun, the prodigy. You watched them kiss, your heart aching because you shouldn’t care what Sungmin did and with who, or at least not the extent that you did.

Henry had gone to visit his family and you found yourself dragged to this party by Sungmin. They must have been celebrating the initiation of someone into their frat house and you were meant to be Sungmin’s “date.” But he’d left you for the brown haired predator.

You took in the fluid movements of his hands tugging at Kyuhyun’s hair and it compelled you to quench your thirst with copious amounts of alcohol, rendering you a drunken fool by the time you’d taken a hold of your third plastic cup. People eyed you warily until there was a firm grip on your forearm. You were tugged into a bedroom where you were subjected to a lecture in which you were told you were stupid for getting “drunk off your where anyone would you.”

Your cheeky response, “I’m game, if you are, Minnie.”

“Ryeowook, that’s not funny!”

“I never meant for it to be,” you slurred and it was like word vomit. All of your pent up feelings, the ones you’d even convinced yourself were dead and gone, came out. Sungmin sat on his bed, his face a placid mask as he registered your drunken confession. “I love you!” You ended your tirade by batting away his protesting hands and straddling his lap. “I love you.”

There was bliss, pain, excitement, hatred, loathing, and passion… every emotion was played on your face as Sungmin made love to you. You were sure it was love, it was gentle and endearing. It was painful but above the layers of drunken words, mind-blowing pleasure, and whispers, you blocked out the hurt and clung to Sungmin’s shoulders, bit into his milky flesh, and rode the waves of ecstasy as they crashed over you.

In the morning, you would have a hangover, you would call Henry and tell him you loved him but you could not take him for granted, and you would find yourself where you always wanted to be…

You smiled because this was what you’d only dreamed of.

You were twenty-five when you said yes; he was twenty-seven and his eyes were sparkling more than they ever had.

His eyes were b with happiness and excitement. They emanated a light that would never be dimmed and it shined solely for you.

You stared up at the ceiling, willing your tears to recede because you couldn’t ruin this moment, but the salty drops overwhelmed you and fell. There was a warm hand on you cheek, a gentle caress that was so familiar and inviting. He was grinning from ear to ear, his smile transcending the fear you felt. You didn’t even understand the reason behind it. You had everything you ever wanted.

Sungmin wiped away a tear and leaned his forehead against yours. You remembered the words, “I do” rolling off your tongue but they faded with the flash spots that clouded your eyesight as friends and family rushed to your side, eager to take pictures with the newlyweds. He never let go of you, not even once. Your husband – you had blushed the first time you had addressed him as such – would not let you get away. His hold was gentle, like it was in times of relaxation and intimacy.

You laughed when you seen the reception hall, your mother had put herself in charge of decorations: white, soft pink and lavender. Yes, you were both gay, but you thought your mother went overboard.

Regardless, the party that followed was one you would never forget. Your parents were even dancing with each other. A little too close, you noted.

“Did Youngwoon just kiss Jungsu?” Sungmin had asked in awe. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Leave them alone. This is a happy day, our day. Don’t drag my parents into it.”

Sungmin laughed at you before he leaned in and kissed your nose. You wrinkled it at him and he captured your lips, a heavenly indicator of many kisses to come. “Kim Ryeowook, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for marrying me.”

You smirked at the irony; he seemed oblivious to the fact that it was you who was lucky, not him.

You were twenty-nine when you wanted a child; he was thirty-one and hired a brilliant lawyer.

You noticed it when you were walking through the park one day. The mothers, and even fathers, held the hands of children as they tore off toward the empty spot on the swing set or to join the queue to go down the big slide.

Your heart ached just a bit. You’d wanted to be a father some day. But you’d married a man. Childbirth was physically impossible. You wondered what a child who was half Sungmin and half yourself would be like. You pictured Sungmin’s white skin, fox eyes and pouty lips with your bone structure and timid nature. You cried silently on the way home from the market because that was a pipe dream. There would never be a child as such. It was never going to happen and that reality hurt.

At home, you cooked dinner, straining to keep your sadness at bay, but Sungmin was too damn perceptive for his own good. He charmed it out of you, using his reassuring smile and gentle touch. You poured your sorrow out and your dear husband told you he would make your dreams come true, all of them.

Choi Siwon was the lawyer who, ten months later, set three-day-old, Lee Donghae into your arms. You were too in awe of the beautiful child to cry and even though you knew the precious baby couldn’t see your face, you told yourself that he was memorizing your features and in you seeing the motherly figure who would care for him and give him everything he’d need from love to friendship.

Six months later, Donghae had successfully ruined Sungmin’s favorite soccer jersey and in the course of wailing for more food, screamed, “UMMA!”, his tiny fingers spayed out and reaching for you.

You took your son into your arms and Sungmin wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you both close. “I love this,” you whispered into Sungmin’s ear as Donghae fell asleep in your arms. Your family was perfect.

You were thirty-seven when you had an affair; he was thirty-nine and more forgiving than he should have been.

His name was Jongwoon and he was your boss. He was handsome and his voice was like velvet, deep and sultry. He treated you better than the other workers, but you figured that was because of your amazing work ethic and helpful air. You’d known him for years, working alongside him on many projects, spending hours together – often into the dead of night. He had on occasion accompanied Sungmin and yourself to dinner, he even babysat Donghae on the nights you both needed a break from your beloved hyper-active eight-year-old.

Sungmin had been gone a lot lately, having begun his preparation to take over his father’s company. He had also been sent off on business trips to other countries to promote the benefits of the Lee Corporations’ business management software, Send Bill. You missed him terribly but it was good for the company so you held your tongue and displeasure, especially when you seen the assistant they were sending him off with. Choi Sooyoung, legs for miles and a plastic smile to boot.

Donghae was away at summer camp, three solid months without your baby and you felt empty. It was Jongwoon who kept you busy while the two most important men in your life were tending to their own matters. He filled the gaps in time when Donghae or Sungmin would return. You began to crave Jongwoon’s company even when your husband and son were home.

You don’t remember when hugs goodbye turned into kisses, nor do you recall when the hotel just outside of town became your favorite place. You were destroying your marriage and your family had begun to notice the late night phone calls, the candid smiles of shaky remembrance, and the disappearing acts for hours at a time.

Sungmin confronted you about it. He forced it out of you… you hated how persuasive he was.

He cried, and Sungmin never cried. He told you that you’d become your father. And it was like a slap in the face, but it was reality. You had cheated on your spouse; you were the home-wrecker this time. You had broken your marriage. You could say nothing, you could do nothing.

Sungmin’s eyes were sad, his body was slumped. He was shaking in the effort to regain some poise. You had made him this way, and that killed you. “Sungmin… I…”

“I just need to know,” his voice cracked and you moved forward, hand stretched out to take his but you thought otherwise. “Did… do you love him?”

It was a simple enough question and yet you couldn’t answer. Yes, you did love Jongwoon because he paid attention to you, but you would never love him the way you loved Sungmin. You could never love them in the same way. “I- I don’t know how to answer that.”

“What the hell do you mean? Either you love him or you don’t!”

“Not like I love you.”

“Damn it, Ryeowook. Damn you! I want to hate you. I want to kick you out and have you gone from my life forever! But I can’t do that. I can’t because you’re my heart.” You watched his fist thud against his chest and you squeezed your eyes shut. “You are my life… I just can’t.”

You clung to him, even though you had no right to and begged for forgiveness. Begged him to hold you, for him to stay with you forever because you made vows… a term you were better off not using. He told you to give him time and he left.

A week later he came home with Donghae, and acted as if nothing had ever happened. You were a family until Donghae was tucked in bed and then he changed. His joyous smile dimmed and he stared at you blankly. “I love you, you know that. I love you more than my own life. I love you so much that I’m going to pretend this never happened.”

He made love to you that night but it was tentative and you cried. You were a fool and unworthy of his love.

You were fifty-three when you crashed your car on the way home; he was fifty-five and he died.

The road was icy and you were upset about something that happened weeks ago but you’d only just found out. Your beloved son had burned a gaping hole in your wallet and neither he nor Sungmin had cared to tell you. They assumed you’d never find out about it, but you swore, if Donghae spent all that money on that hooker he called a girlfriend, you were going to strangle him.

Donghae was away school and rarely came home – something that made you constantly uneasy as you weren’t sure if you liked that idea of your only child feeding himself. Donghae was a capable young man, but he was also ill-equipped in common sense matters – picking friends and good women among his biggest indiscretions, particularly Jung Jessica – the aforementioned hooker.

Sungmin took over the company for his father, spending more time at home as technology befitted him best in the confines of his bedroom. You had to deal with wires and promises that “those boxes are only temporary once the new CPU comes in and then I can get rid of them. Just pretend they aren’t there.” Easier said than done, as you often stumbled over them in the dead of night on your way to the bathroom, swearing up and down that you almost died!

Years had mended the tears in your relationship and given you a better insight on what was worth living for. It was as if neither of you had ever spoke words of anger and hate. It was great.

You fiddled with the buttons on the dashboard as your windows begin to fog. You really hated driving in this weather but you had to see your mother about something ridiculous that your father had done. No matter how old they got, you were still the middle ground. They were petty and still fools for one another.

You sighed wistfully as you maneuvered your car off the highway. It happened before you could have stopped it – black ice.

Your tires locked, and you were screaming as the back end of your car was suddenly whipped forward. The spinning made you dizzy, too confused to even attempt control but the guard rail was getting closer and you were going over it in seconds. Glass shattered, air bags deployed…

He got the call when he came inside from letting Hyaku play in the snow. The small cat bundled up in a sweater that you had bought him. The phone rang and it took Sungmin a few tries to figure out which phone was actually ringing.

Hyaku rolled around at his feet, purring and mewing giddily until Sungmin dropped the phone, frightening the animal. The air was suddenly too thick to breathe; his heart was pounding too fast to think straight.

All he could hear was your son’s voice telling him that you were gone and you had taken a part of him with you.