Hayi’s first real kiss was on her forehead. Her second, on the lips.

It was a different person for each kiss.

Her first: from a boy, and her second: from a man.

. . .

It was late, then, and the darkness of the evening dissolved all traces of the sun’s pale glow. As usual, Hanbin smoked his Esse cigarettes. Hayi sat next to him, legs over the railings, hanging loose on the bridge of some motorway, just above the thousands of cars passing by. Hayi was unusually talkative that evening. She told Hanbin about her childhood, her family, her many goals for the future.

And after many hours of talking, when the conversation had finally stopped flowing, the girl asked, “Do you come here often?”

She watched the lights below them move in an incredible speed. It was almost scary to think what would happen to her body if she fell suddenly. She shook off those thoughts and looked at the sky instead. Starless.

“I’ve only been here twice. Are you scared of heights?”

“Not really.” She paused and changed the topic, “Why did you want to meet up?”

The cars, the filthy air, the noise, and the tobacco altogether made the boy cough.

Soon, Hanbin answered, “I came to tell you that I’m not going to school anymore. Not even after my suspension has been lifted.”

“I see.”

“Not because I don’t want to—but, well, that’s not a lie, either. But my doctor,” he said. “My doctor advised me to live my life. To actually live, you know? I wouldn’t want to spend my remaining days sitting down and torturing my brain, he said. So for a couple of weeks, I’m going to visit my uncle in Japan.”

“Remaining days...” Those words echoed inside her mind, making nothing but a resounding noise. Hayi didn’t know how two words could make her stomach curl up in pain—but it did. “Are you dying?”

Hanbin smiled. “I believe I told you the first time we spoke. And then again, on the second time. Again, on the third and the fourth—”

“I know.”

“So why do you act so surprised, Hayi?”

Even the girl herself didn’t know the answer to that question. “I haven’t known many dead people. Only my grandparents, my father whom I never really knew, and my uncle’s wife. Only them.”

“So I’m fourth on the list.”

“That…that isn’t what I meant.”

“I know,” he replied. “You’re scared.”

“I am.”

Feeling a bit short of breath, Kim Hanbin looked up at the starless night sky.

“When my cousin died, I was unable to find a place for myself in this world. I stopped taking my medication in hopes that death would come faster. The smoking got heavier than ever. I broke down every single day. I was sadder than the day I found out I wouldn’t live to reach the age of old. His death had robbed my adolescence. It’s hard to believe but eventually, after months of sorrow, I learned something from it: living nurtures death. Death and life exist in the same place. And while that truth can’t cure the sorrow, all we can really do is see that sadness through to the end and gain from it—because that’s what it means to live.”

Hayi’s only response was the flickering sadness apparent in her eyes. Hanbin was confused.

Had his words really struck a responsive chord in his friend, while his way of putting them had been so excessive that there was no way for her to answer?

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, then he sat facing the girl.

Hayi started to speak but the tears came welling up and she fell silent.

“No crying, now,” Hanbin said, patting her gently on the back. “Say it. Say what you want to say. Or ask away. At least let me know whether or not I hurt you. Or whether you regret it or not. Just...tell me.”

After the tears had stopped flowing, the girl began to speak.

“When that man—after he touched me like that. After he hurt me, I think all the ability to love, inside of me, was stripped away. I was scared of people for a long time. I was scared of boys. While my friends were dating, I was reading books about love. It felt better on paper. Books couldn’t hurt me as much as people could,” Hayi told him. “But after a while, I got bored. Bored of those plots, bored of those same handsome characters. So I tried it out once. After a year and a half of running away, I tried it just once. I tried loving this friend. You.”

The boy scoffed. “And how did that work out for you, Lee Hayi?”

“Love has its complications.”

Hanbin chuckled. “Falling in love with a dying boy. That is, indeed, complicated. However, confessing to a dying boy: more complications.”

“I wonder.”

“I love you, Hayi. From the bottom of my heart,” he suddenly said, not a tinge of insincerity lingered in his voice. “But I can’t do anything about it.”

“I know.”

“And I’m sorry for choosing to hurt you like this.”

“I know.”

“I’m thankful,” Hanbin continued, “for being your first. And I’m sorry that I won’t be your last. If there was another way, another universe—I’d choose you; in a thousand lifetimes, in a thousand worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

Hayi looked down, perhaps to hide her tears, and her shoulders drooped.

“I know.”

The girl said nothing more, but her eyes were wide open, with tears welled up in them. Hanbin leaned forward and held her, kissing her on the forehead. She could smell the faint odour of tobacco on him. And that scent lingered on her for a while.

While Hanbin had known kisses could make someone feel happy, he had never known they were capable of sadness as well.

“When the first snow falls, let’s meet here,” he told her. “Right here.”

“Call.”

. . .

“You seem troubled, Lee Hayi,” Kim Jiwon remarked, taking his usual spot in the library.

“Hm. How can you tell?”

“You’re a fast reader. You can read a hundred pages in one sitting. And you’ve been on the same page since yesterday.”

“A good observer, I see.”

“I’m taking art as a course after I leave high school. Of course I’m a damn good observer.”

Hayi chuckled at Jiwon’s response. He hadn’t been trying to distract her, but he found himself laughing as well. Though her smile vanished quickly, he enjoyed seeing it for the first time in a long while.

“What’s been troubling you, then?”

“I’m in love with this boy,” she said.

“Oh yeah? What kind of guy is he?”

Hayi thought about Hanbin. “An . Someone who smokes cigarettes like a chimney, not to feed his addiction, but because it gives him twenty chances a day to pay close attention to the direction in which the wind is shifting. A guy who does nothing all day but stare at the sky. A person who can’t live for very long.”

Jiwon paused, and when his thoughts cleared up, he asked. “Have you confessed to that boy?”

“I have.”

“Good,” he replied. “You’ll really regret it if you hadn’t, you know? That confession—it’d be locked up inside of you forever, leaving you with eternal questions and what ifs.”

“But it can’t change the fact that he’ll be gone soon.”

“In this universe, the dead do not have emotions—at least not that we know of. The living does. And while your confession won’t change that boy’s fate, it’ll change yours. I don’t know if you’d be at peace, but what I do know is that keeping the truth locked up will hurt more. It happened to me, y’know.”

Hayi remained silent for a long time, staring at her book, loss for words.

“What happened?”

“A girl I grew up with,” the boy answered. “We did everything together. Eat, play, sleep—I’d listen to her read stories, and she’d watch me paint. We did everything together. We were even in the same accident that killed her.”

“I…I see.”

“Out of the two of us, Hayi. You’re lucky. You got to prepare, while for me, one day she was just gone. Vanished from this world... from me. Her death was so quick and final.”

“How did you cope afterwards?”

Jiwon sighed and looked at the ceiling light, trying to find an answer. “Honestly, I don’t remember. I don’t even remember her funeral, or how I felt the day after,” he scoffed, and repeated, “Yeah, I don’t remember.”

. . .

Tell me the truth.
Once I'm gone, do you think you’ll forget about me? – Spring

I promise I won’t. – Hayi 

Then, it’s a deal.
Goodnight. I’ll see you when the first snow falls. 
The forecast says next week. – Spring 

What if you don’t come? – Hayi

Don’t worry about that. 
This is random, but I like it the best when you smile. – Spring 

Should I greet you with a smile next time I see you, then? – Hayi

My cheeks are turning red just thinking about it. – Spring

Hah. Goodnight.
Rest well. – Hayi

. . . 

It snowed for the first time in January.

Hayi stood, waiting, in the same bridge where they promised to meet, carrying the Christmas present she had carefully wrapped herself a few hours earlier. It was a black scarf. She figured it would keep Hanbin warm.

While she waited, she watched the same, starless sky she saw with Hanbin a few weeks ago.

. . .

It snowed for the first time in January.

The dream visited Hanbin once again.

This time, when he falls, he doesn’t feel any pain.

. . . 

It snowed for the first time in January.

Hayi still waited.

But Kim Hanbin never came.

. . .

the day before // they will never be able to reach you, the words that let you go

thank you. (it's not the end yet)