The first time I saw him, I was mesmerized and enthralled at that wonderful smile on his smooth and refined face and jawline. I can’t take my eyes off his nose because clearly, his face consists 70% of nose and his legs are just amazingly long. I wondered what had made me swoon over him. I clasped tightly on my bag strap and shouted My Sunshine!’ like a doofus in the middle of the crowd, while students gather in the ground for the freshmen club orientation.

My parents sent me to a university in China to learn business but my heart screams music and voice and piano so I took a minor in the field while I fondle ever drastically as a business major. I had to work some shifts around the university to make it happen. I am quite proud for making it happen because he likes it when I sing.

He was a Chinese and he knew a few Korean terms since he’s having Korean as foreign language class. It was just an elective, he says to me and could’ve picked something better and richer like French or Spanish and I just snort at him because Korean is a rich language. He punches me playfully while I wiggle my eyebrows ever knowingly.

The dorm he’s staying at is on the other side of the university, a few meters away from his college building. He’s majoring in Communication Arts and aspiring to be a director for films, dramas and anything that can be played on screen. I asked my roommate Henry teach me a few Chinese lines. He figured I need some learning to do since I am studying in China.

 

“You’re pathetic,” Henry said to me one night as we sit on the floor and I fumble hopelessly to the words and he sighed as if I’m the worst case ever. I was asking him to teach me say ‘can I ask you out?’ that time.

“I’m going to call Zhoumi to teach you instead,” ‘You’re friends with Zhoumi?’ was the first thing that popped in my mind before I reached for him and snatched the phone away.

“You’re friends with Zhoumi?” Henry looked at me confusingly and then his eyes turned into a cat-like gaze, it was scary. I remembered my friend Heechul back in Korea who used to look at me like that when he figured I’m up to no good.

“Yes, I’m good friends with Zhoumi,” Henry chirped and I clear my throat. “Oh I see.”

“You’re going to ask him out…” he concluded in a tone I will never forget every time we see, which is like forever since I’m sharing my room with him.

“This is gold,” Henry laughed when I didn’t reply and I reached for my pillow to throw it at him. I slumped on the floor and made a ‘mph’ sound.

“Okay, okay,” Henry said when he’d finally stopped laughing and wiped the tear from the corner of his eyes. “I’ll teach you, okay.”

 

I smiled the entire time I first took him out. It was a small Chinese restaurant that sells wonderful duck meat and Zhoumi enjoyed it just as much as I enjoyed the way he caressed my arms or how our shoulders would brush ever so often. I offered to pay that night but he insisted that we should split since we’re just both students. And I smiled at his sensitivity.

Within a few months and after a few more dates, we were a couple. I took him right in front of the university fountain one time during the Christmas break and played with the snow. I created a snowman and carved Z + K on its belly and when I turned around he’s kissing me harshly and I just wrapped my arms around his waist in delight.

That night, we rushed through my room, since Henry flew back to Canada to spend the break, on my bed, legs and arms tangled together under the blizzard. He was like fire penetrating and burning my skin slowly and permanently. I had to keep up and be strong so I won’t fully incinerate under his kiss, his and how he can make me all lost and needy with just his gaze.

“I love you,” I tell him when he’s snoring lightly under my embrace. He’s squished between the cement wall and me, in my single bed, and we managed. It felt perfectly comfortable and fitting. His hair smelled watermelon and peppermint and I swear that I’ll never get tired of this. I didn’t know if he heard me but he mumbled incoherent sounds and I just pulled the blanket over him to make him warm.

He would stop by my room to wake me up if I overslept for my 8:30 am class and Henry would make me feel guilty every time.

“He walks across the entire university just to get through you,” Henry said one night while I play my games and he’s reading an article about stock exchange.

I just shrugged and truly I do feel bad at times. The next day, I got up early and went to his room and surprised him with a kiss. He looked at me confused.

“I’ll go to class now,” I replied quite proudly and he ruffled my hair. I like it when he ruffles my hair like a child. He tried getting up but I pushed him and insisted him on getting back to sleep.

“You’re class isn’t till 10,” I said. “Meet me later at lunch,” I added and he replied by kissing me chastely on the lips and pushing me off the room. I figured that I wouldn’t mind waking up too early and going to his room and wake him up instead.

We did things couples do together. We go to cafes to hang out. We go to the library to study together in our matching times. He would act a scene from the movies or speak lines from literature and I find it utterly funny. He would insist that it’s sweet.

I would sing songs to him at night. I told him that I’d write him songs everyday if he’s going to live with me the next term because surely travelling across the university is tiring. I did my cutest pout and cheekily smile when he agreed. We picked a dorm outside the university and everything felt perfect. He’s the only person to hear my original compositions.

We were blown away by how incredibly amazing it feels to love someone and be loved back.

 

After graduation, I went back to Korea and I promised him that I’d go back once I’m settled with dad’s business and have everything prepared. We parted in the airport and I wished he hadn’t let me go because the entire time in my seat, I stopped myself from tearing up. I miss him the moment I turned away to get into the plane.

A few weeks later I was shocked when I saw him in my building. I wouldn’t forget those long pair of legs and that bright smile and I said to myself, ‘what the is this guy? Wait that’s Zhoumi!’

“Zhoumi!” I shouted from the main entrance and the man turned from the lobby boy, who’s giving him instructions, to me.

“Kui Xian!” he screamed back and I smiled widely when he told me that he’ll be staying here and I just can’t contain all emotions bubbling in my head. He’s really here; I repeated in my head.

Zhoumi had a concrete plan when he got here in Korea. He would apply for his dream and work with artists. He’ll live with me and he’ll prepare my food every time. My ambitions were looser when he got here; I would leave work early so I can see him before dinner and I sing him lullabies at night before bedtime. We stayed in my apartment and we actually made it work. He’s more practical and focused. My head is mostly on Zhoumi if not on numbers and stocks and contracts. He got his dream job—to be a well-known director in dramas and screenplays. I took him out in a fancy restaurant to celebrate and that night we made love.

 

I didn’t see it coming, but it was the start of how our lovely storyline ends.

After a few months in his new work, he got back from filming and just then he’s anxiety level rose beyond anything I’d ever seen. It was disturbing and horrifying. He’d always been very nervous, easily upset, holding himself irrevocable standards. He gets petrified easily, frozen most of the times, terrified of disappointing people and making mistakes. I tell him he’s perfect and he would just ignore me and cry. He’d spend all day working, trying to come up with ideas, drowning himself with caffeine. He’d ask me to help her with lines and impressions and I would reply with a quick text or email and he would just stare at them—analyzing, taking in slowly until I get home and figured he hadn’t moved off his chair the entire day.

He could still cook but I opted to cook or call for takeaways because he’s lost and he would just stare on the food. I feared that he might burn the house down. I stayed up as late as I could, trying to comfort him. I tell soothing comments and make him feel I’m proud of him. I sing him songs and he falls asleep easily after my lullabies but when I drifted off, he wakes up and I knew that while I slept, he’s trapped in awake thinking of all horrible things, uncomfortable awaiting morning.

 

We saw a therapist, then a psychiatrist who prescribed antidepressants and sleeping pills, which we both naively thought was a huge overreaction.

“You have to take these pills,” I said to him one night and he just shrugged, insisting that he’s better and he doesn’t want something that will penetrate him and his senses.

He stopped going to work, always calling sick.

“Hide the pills somewhere because I don’t want to take them. If I see those pills, it makes me feel obliged taking in death,” he whispered to me and I looked at him under the covers. The smile in his face is no more there. It was gone. The lines of stress replaced the happy ray of sunshine and tension, and I wonder if it will ever come back again. The beams and brightness in his eyes hid under the chocolate orbs of sadness and anxiety. I thought to myself that I miss the old Zhoumi. I reached out to kiss him. He responded willingly but pulled back right after. I didn’t mind but instead pulled him for an embrace and started singing him lullabies to make him fall asleep. He didn’t fall though, I did. And he stayed up awake the entire night.

 

That day I forgot hiding the pills and I wanted to hit my head on the wall because Zhoumi stayed all day staring at the pills and when I opened the door he looked at me with wide and red eyes. I knelt instantly beside him and hugged him until he’d stopped saying mumbles and whispers and, never did I feel bad in my entire life.

 

One morning I heard him speaking in Chinese incoherently and I thought I’d gone mad and couldn’t take it anymore. I called Heechul and Henry to come here as fast as they could. I stayed at the living room until they came. Heechul was about to ask in his awfully rude tone when I placed my finger against my lips and silenced him.

They both looked baffled when they heard Zhoumi from the bedroom talking to himself, screaming one moment, then crying and Henry saw me in tears already. I didn’t know what made him like that and I just can’t hold back it anymore, I sat down on the couch, tears staining my face and I felt weak and hopeless and my rays of sunshine just vanished into thins air.

I didn’t understand anything.

Henry tried helping and walked inside the bedroom. Zhoumi stopped talking and I heard a loud squeal of excitement. They chatted happily like normal friends. Heechul sat beside me and hugged me comfortingly.

 

That afternoon, I called at the hospital and inquired about Zhoumi’s case. They referred me through a psychiatric unit. They sent us to a hospital an hour away from my workplace. I packed his things while Heechul played and talked to Zhoumi. Henry prepared some food for us to eat on our way. Henry drove us while I sit beside Zhoumi at the back.

“Where are we going?” Zhoumi asked and I can clearly remember the way his eyes brightened up.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“Where are we going?” Zhoumi asked again and Heechul turned around.

“A trip, Seasoning. Like a vacation.” he explained and I’m thankful that he answered quickly enough before I can tell Henry to turn back because telling Zhoumi that truth and knowing how he would react just pained me.

He smiled though, when Heechul answered and he held my hands in a tight clasp. And I wanted to cry but stopped myself because it would just disturb his peace of mind. When we got there I froze planted because Zhoumi’s not going home anytime soon.

It crushed my dreams of a happy ending.

“He’s not going home anytime soon,” the doctor said and I looked blankly at Zhoumi from the other side of the glass wall. Zhoumi was talking with Heechul and I saw how good his Korean has been. I watched his smiles through the glass wall and how he’d turned into a beautiful man with his hair black like raven.

He looked happier before. And I started doubting myself if I can make him happy ever again. It pained me watching him from behind this wall that stopped me from hugging him. The doctor said something from diagnosis to treatment to visiting hours and I heard Henry reply for me.

He was stressed and tired and needed much rest so he can calm his emotions back down. He needed to differentiation illusion from reality.

We left that night—it was a struggle not for Zhoumi but for me. I was sobbing on our way home, at the back of the car. I curled down the seat, my hands clasped in my chest and I know Heechul and Henry wanted to do anything just to assure me. When we got home, they helped me get into bed.

I slept crying.

 

The next day, Henry had prepared breakfast and Heechul left when I woke up. They promised to call me once in a while and we decided to spare Saturdays on visiting him. I didn’t go to work; I just stared on the ceiling feeling broken and devastated. All hope just jumped off the cliff because having Zhoumi was the best thing in my life and losing him would be the most horrifying thing. It was like a dream that turned into a nightmare.

We went to him two days later. He was in his room, playing and scribbling lines he can vaguely recall form his dramas and from literary pieces. He was ill. Acutely psychotic and the doctors told me all possible reasons where he might get it. I wasn’t listening. I was only watching Zhoumi from behind the small window the door has and smiled brokenly. He was smiling that bright smile and I thought of all possible reasons how I could keep him smile like that.

The nurse opened the door and let me in. Heechul and Henry stayed with the doctor behind. I was hesitant to approach him because I might burst a bubble barrier of some sort and it would just upset him and it would upset me.

So I sat cautiously near him and I looked at him. He was like a kid, jotting words and letters on the paper happily and I find it amusing that in every character his face cringes animatedly as if he can remember all emotions gush in his head recalling it.

Maybe he sensed that there’s someone near him or maybe I tapped too loudly on the floor because he looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Kui Xian?” he mumbled weakly and I slapped myself because of course, he still knows my name. He’s just acutely ill and it’s not amnesia for goodness’ sake.

“Mimi?” I stuttered and he smiled.

“I like it when you call me that,” he said and he crawled towards me and leaned against me. I grinned beamingly and wrapped assuring arms around him.

“The tigers have found me and I don’t care,” he said and I looked at him. I heard it before. He used to tell that to me when he is faced with problems. And I began to wonder, is he starting to grasp reality again? It was Bukowski’s.

I looked intently in his eyes and he beamed at me again. He leaned closer and kissed my cheek. “Don’t get mad at me for being awful,” he said and I waited for him to finish.

“Don’t hate me because you don’t understand.” Lennon’s.

When it was time for me to leave, he only smiled and I looked at him with tears in my eyes. They were threatening to fall but I stopped them with everything I can. He slipped a letter in my hand and he kissed me on the nose before I stepped out. I smiled because I am the one who would usually kiss him on the nose.

In the car, I was hurdled at the back reading Mimi’s letter.

 

I may never have known why

Where, when or how

But I know what you are to.

You may not understand

Just please wait

And we'll figure this out

 

I love you, Kui Xian

 

*

Five years have passed and I smiled at the tall man wearing his olive green scarf and black trench coat walking towards me. He’s wearing a bright red awfully horrible looking bonnet.

“You look ugly,” I tell him and he only slaps me playfully.

We get in the car and he leaned against me. “How can you be so mean Kui Xian?”

I turned around, “But you really look ugly,” I say and he only cringes his face.

“But you’re the one who knitted this cap, I’ll still wear it proudly.” He said and I just felt my breath hitched. “I still can’t remember why you knit me a bonnet.”

“Just because,” he looked at me with a child-like smile and I just stared back.

I tried knitting because Heechul suggested that it could help me recover too, aside from playing games that is. Sort of.

He fumbled through his inside pocket and popped a pill out the bottle. He learned how to take the medicine on his own now. We tried everything we can to make him drink those pills because he needed them. It’s a struggle at first but it went well as time each day passed.

He learned how to take care of himself now too. He slept on time before nine. I would arrive a bit early than I last used to because I need to get home before he does. We cooked food together. I call him always; ask him if he wants me to get him anything. We would sleep in each other’s embrace and I always sing him lullabies in his sleep.

It’s like the grey clouds started revealing the rays of sunshine again.

“I am almost out,” he said to me as I offer him a bottle of water. I nodded in understanding.

“We’ll pass by the pharmacy later,” I told him and leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead.

He cuddled with me as we head to the airport. I’m taking him to China to spend our 15th anniversary as a couple. It’s been so long since he set foot in home. I want to bring him to our alma mater, recall all the things we used to do together—play by the fountain, dine to our favorite restaurants and stroll along the hallways. I might shout ‘My sunshine!’ again if I have to just to make him feel that despite the long years of facing death and agony, I will still stick onto him no matter what.

“I love you,” he whispered into my ear as we settled in one of the seats. He smiled contentedly and snuggled under the blanket. I hold his long slender fingers and caressed his face.

“Ku Xian?” he mumbled and I looked at him cheekily.

“I love you too.”

Always.