The place was the right place, however, the person was wrong.

Sammi shook off the self doubt and rang the doorbell. His eyes fleet to the security system by the door, anxiously waiting for a welcome sign. Everything on the doorstep screamed "privileged class". It was marvelous that the guard had allowed Sammi in through the main door. He nervously surveyed the gleaming hallways lined with flourishing green pots. A sigh escaped when there was no security guard coming for him.

Sammi rang the bell for the second time. Unlike the first, the door was thrown open promptly. He had expected a maid in lacy black-and-white dress greeting him, not a towering middle-age man in spec, "What do you want?" Again, the hostile voice was not what he had in mind either.

"I'm Jaewhan's friend. I'm here-"

"'Friend'," the man sneered. "You are my son's !" He proceeded shunning him with the door. Sammi pushed against it. Still in shock, he asked breathlessly, "Excuse me. Is  Lee Jaewhan. here?"

"You dirty son of a . You got him those clothes, didn't you?” Sammi winced. “Your sick little is corrupting my son. Get lost, gay plague," the father did not have to physically shove him out, each of his insult was making Sammi shrink into nothing.

No. It’s okay! Sammi told himself. He’d heard those words a million time and the novelty had worn off. “I need to see your son,” Sammi stood on his ground.

Jaewhan hobbled into Sammi’s line of vision. He felt the tears pricking seeing Jaewhan stand next to the big man. Jaewhan hated the pitiful stare, “Leave us alone,” Sammi’s heart was crushed. Jaewhan turned to his father, “Leave me and Sammi alone.”

Sammi and the father were equally bewildered. Sammi pulled Jaewhan to his side as his father’s arm raised. “Go yourselves, fags,” his fingernails dug into their chests and arms as he pushed them out of the safety of his house. The heavy oak door shut himself from them.

“Well,” Sammi’s vocal cord was diminished, “your father… is one hell of a character…” He found Jaewhan’s hand. Jaewhan squeezed back, still trembling.

Jaewhan hung his head over the back of the bench. Only a few pigeons were idling in the bare playground, too lethargic to search for the next meal. He watched the clouds above changing their forms. No. He expected them to change out of its gentle states of puppies and bugs. He wished them to transform into something intimidating like a fire-breathing dragon; something awe-striking and magnificent, not a hideous monster. No. He rather be a feared creature than being crushed easily like ants. Was that why he become a drag? So he would leave him to his own device? He replayed his red face in his mind’s eyes. What if the anger was merely a facade of his fear? A humourless smile appeared. He hated the idea that his son would be seen in town in drag and ruined the family name. He hated his “son” who was not really a son. The Lee bloodline would not continue because of Jaewhan’s inferior gayness.

As if he was being possessed by his grandparents’ ghosts, Jaewhan slipped to the ground. He clumsily tucked his legs under the bottom. His pants scraped the gravel. His ancestors below the earth pulled his balance toward the ground. His deepest bow resembled a stray huddled against the harsh wind. If he shed a few tears on their grave too, would he be forgiven for who he was?

Footsteps were running towards him. Jaewhan did not look at Sammi who peeled him off of the dirty ground. He shoved a carton of warm milk in Jaewhan's hand. "Drink it. You'll feel better,” his voice was brimmed with concern, yet, no question was asked.

Jaewhan was not a big fan of dairy product. The warm liquid poured into his veins nonetheless and a wave of calmness soothed him. It was almost as good as “Sammi’s Passion”. He took another gulp then it's gone. He wiped the milk-stache off with the back of his hand.

Sammi retreated his outstretched hand embarrassedly. Jaewhan chuckled and caught his hand. Tender fingers ran under Jaewhan’s nose, making Sammi’s cheeks rosier. "You’re doing it wrong," Sammi chided. He removed his hand so his lips would bump against his. Jaewhan tentatively moved along the rhythm of his lips. Sammi leaned forward, his tongue ed slightly, teasingly. His punishing fingers dug behind Sammi made him shiver in pleasure. Sammi withdrew though, as if he had enough of Jaewhan’s pathetic eagerness. But the mutual smiles said that it wasn't enough for either of them. They wanted more.

And that scared Sammi a great deal. "What about your father?" he asked, hoping the spiteful word would restore some sanity to both of them.

"What father?" Jaewhan leaned in to recapture his soft lips. Sammi lightly pushed him away. "How are you going to deal with him?" his hand rested on Jaewhan's chest, feeling a hole in his heart. In Sammi's eyes, his father was full of menace and hatred, but still, he was family.

"I don't want to talk about him."

Sammi nodded, "I'm here to listen whenever you need to talk."

Jaewhan pecked his cheek innocently as a way of thank, "Let's go to your place, if you don't mind sleeping with a stinky hobo." His mischievous eyes lit up, not so innocently.

Their arms were linked, since Sammi was Jaewhan’s temporary foot Their soles of the shoes crunched the yellow leaves in unsynchronized rhythm. Jaewhan’s a little slower, and Sammi’s more crawling than usual.  Their hearts beat to the same anticipation for a retreat to the comfortable disguise, a sanctuary under a shabby host club for drags.

A floral-scented candle came alive. Sammi soon summoned a small circle of candlelights on the coffee table. The dim lamp besides the couch hid half of his face in the dark. A "pop" sound sprouted near him. The smell of beer mixed in the smoked air. He watched Jaewhan consume the alcohol, "Too bad the ajussi drank all the wine; it can be much more romantic."

Jaewhan crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Don't you dare touch me," he sounded scared but his lopsided grin indicated something else.

Sammi ran his nails under Jaewhan's chin. The guest's heart beat in anticipation. Sammi saw through him and pulled away. He could feel Jaewhan's pout burning behind him as he strode to the CD player and turned it on. He pulled Jaewhan off of the floor and slung his arms over his waist. They swayed to the slow tempo of the music. Sammi hugged him closer, allowing Jaewhan and the song to consume him. He tried spinning the taller guy and Jaewhan ducked his head way too low, as if he was dancing with a dwarf. A kick landed on his . "You jerk!" same words tumbled out of their mouths, so were their laughs. It was Jaewhan's turn to draw him close to his torso. He squeezed all the airs out of their lungs, causing Sammi's arms thrash above their heads. "Aigoo. You're a born dancer," Jaewhan teased.

"Of course. Dancing is my life," Sammi returned jokingly.

His hand wandered past Sammi's lower waist, "Is that why you are a host? Just to dance withchairs and poles?"

Sammi's smile dropped a millimetre. An awkward laugh ensued, "How did you know, genius?"

Jaewhan's genuine eyes bore into Sammi's, "From the first moment I saw you dance with that chair, I know that everyone would swoon at the sight of you; I need to hide you from the spotlight."

A fit of laughter filled the room, "You're such a player, Lee Jaewhan! I'm leaving you for my admirers!"

Jaewhan then ardently whispered in his blushing ear, telling him that he's the greatest dancer he'd ever seen and the world would end if he ever showcased his talent. That's why Sammi belonged here in this ignored corner on Earth, and danced with someone anonymous called Lee Jaewhan. Everything would be fine with the two drags hiding under the basement. Out of the spotlight called judgement in the hostile world.

Since Jaewhan's face was buried in the other man's shoulder, he couldn't see Sammi’s disoriented look. He imagined himself dancing in front of the critical judges like he'd used to. The nerves instantly rose from his core, along with a sense of uncertainty and hope for accomplishments. If he was truly “the greatest dancer”, then the outside world was very alluring. Sammi's soul was drifting farther and farther from the dark and closer and closer to the light. Only Jaewhan's light butterfly kisses adorned his neck anchor him to reality.

Soon, the past dream was abandoned in exchange for Jaewhan's full attention on his heated body. Sammi's instinct brought them to the mattress, their lips never separated from each other as they landed roughly. Something tugged at the back of Sammi's mind along with his shirt. He broke the connection, "Too fast..." he whimpered weakly under his hot breath.

Jaewhan pressed on his bare chest, "Please. I want to forget about today." His lost desperate look broke down Sammi’s last barrier. There were no longer restrain between them. The walls encased their cries and moans. When the pressure built up and Jaewhan was about to come. "Scream ‘Hakyeon’," Sammi hissed. Jaewhan gasped out his name before collapsing into Hakyeon's embrace.

The dimness of the basement lulled Hakyeon to sleep, though something prevented his consciousness from drifting. His fingers traced Jaewhan's shaking back on the far side of the bed. A strangled cry impeded Jaewhan’s pending words. Hakyeon’s quiet patting triggered the other man’s free fall of bitter tears. Hakyeon's heart clenched from knowing that the was not working. Their devotion to the shared heated moment did not ease Jaewhan's pain. Somehow, Hakyeon felt responsible. He waited until his breathing became regular.

The low ceiling entered Jaewhan’s puffy eyes, "I used you,” he marvelled to himself, “God, I'm a terrible person."

Under the stained sheet, Hakyeon attempted to took his hand. Jaewhan pulled away violently, "I kept hurting you." No apology followed because he had no right.

"What you did to me was nothing compare to what I had to go through. Don't beat yourself over me."

The room was too dark to perceive Hakyeon's emotions. Jaewhan fell quiet, waiting for him to say more, when nothing came, he asked, "Why did you become a drag?"

"What about you?"

A frustrated sigh was heard. Here he was again, evading Jaewhan’s burning curiosity. "I'll tell you. I owe you that much."

The darkness engulfed them deeper to the past. Jaewhan was pulling thoughts into words and then spun into sentences, but he failed to articulate everything, "I’m a drag because I didn’t want my embarrassing drunk video to go viral." The silent response encouraged him to seek answer by himself, "I don't want other people to know that I'm gay," the truth ended with a shudder. He regretted being drunk out of his mind, and most importantly, he had declared his ual orientation. He had not realized the rejection before when the fact was not documented for everyone’s disposal. Ever since the threat had been made, he imagined how everyone would see him if they knew. Would they see Lee Jaewhan or a disgusting homoual? A low chuckle vibrated in his throat. Ironically, he was fine walking down the streets being an ugly drag. The horror. The bewilderment. The disgust. The curiosity. He still remembered. He had brushed all of their emotions off of his shoulders. "Why is that?" he asked out loud. Why did he accept himself as a drag, but not as a gay man? "What about you? What's so appealing about being a drag?"

Jaewhan returned the courtesy of allowing him to gather his words, "I wasn't always a drag."

Jaewhan did not expect him to take a dive into his past. He his hand, asking him to go on gently, so the old Hakyeon would not break his bones while being transported  to the present.

"I was an idol trainee for a few years before coming here. I would've kept going down that path if my family didn't go bankrupt. Amelia pays the staff really well."

Somehow, the fact that Hakyeon had been forced to be a drag like himself was reassuring. He was not the only one who had accidentally stumbled into the dark. But more acutely, Jaewhan experienced a sense of loss and regret. "You were trained to be a dancer," he stated as a matter-of-fact. It should have been obvious to him from the start that Hakyeon’s dancing was not meant to be hidden away, or reduced to an errotic show for the drunkards and men. Jaewhan hugged him close to him. They had their arms wrapped around each other's waists in silence. Their stories washed over them in tormenting peace.

Hakyeon lightly brushed Jaewhan’s sweaty bangs out of the way, "I think, like you, I use drag as an escape. I could’ve kept going without the money, but I didn’t,” he croaked. He kissed his forehead to hide his own exasperate face.

"Are you happy though?"

Hakyeon nodded against his forehead.

"That's all that matter."

Jaewhan nuzzled into his chest and closed his eyes. Hakyeon stayed awake for a long time even after the other man had succumbed into unconsciousness. He could not fall asleep after hearing the unspoken disappointment from Jaewhan

***

The ceiling would come crashing down on him, Hakyeon sworn. His lead-heavy brain lolled to one side of the couch, dying. A cold towel was thrown at him.

"Don't drink your guts out when you have low tolerance, you punk!" Amelia commented his pathetic state. He lit a cigarette and took a drag.

"Don't smoke when your lungs aren't functioning, you old fool!"

The ajussi blew the stinky smoke in his direction, "Life is too short to be limited by social convention.

"Hakyeon rolled his eyes, "That's what old people always say."

Amelia swung his sweaty blonde wig at his face. Hakyeon laughed because the old man had lost the argument. He groaned when he laughed too hard. His ab was overtaken by pain. Amelialaughed louder before frowning at his misery, "Don't you think you're wasting your youth in this stingy place? I'm fine living here because I'm old, but your life's just started, Hakyeon-ah."

Hakyeon gulped back the rising bile. No one had called him by his real name since a long time, not even Jaewhan, because the name was forbidden. Hakyeon was not sure why he wanted to keep his real name a secret. Just because the ajussi did not allow him to? "In case you change your mind and want to become an idol again," Amelia had told him, "Let's just say you'll have the most sensational pre-debut story if anyone ever finds out you were a drag queen." In the beginning, Hakyeon had suspected that the old geezer was going to threaten him or selling the story to the press when he did bathe in fame. Looking at his concern for his sickness right now, Hakyeon knew that he was wrong.

"Hakyeon, are you going to try out for the upcoming audition?"

For the past few weeks, Amelia has been constantly pestering him to go to another audition, but it was no use. Amelia has always been urging him to go to the weekly auditions at JYP or YG, but Hakyeon would always say "no". He was resolute in abandoning his dream. Nothing could change his mind once his decision was made. This latest audition from whatever company should make no impact on him. Yet, he's been toying with the idea of preparing a performance for the audition. He had danced a piece privately for Jaewhan. The silly kid had been grinning and clapping. He kissed him all over because he was so proud of him. There was no disappointment in the kiss. Hakyeon did miss others’ appreciation for being himself, not being Sammi. He did not expect that he would miss receiving  admiration for his art, or being Cha Hakyeon, until Jaewhan poured him those flowery words of acknowledgment.

"I don't think I'll go to that audition."

The ajussi killed his cigarette, getting tired of the bitterness. He refrained from yelling at the stubborn, talented young man lying sick before him, or demanding the -up reason of his problem. "Do whatever you want. I don't care about you," grouchily, he disappeared to the kitchen.

Hakyeon waved the white towel above his head, playing the defeated enemy troop, "Awe! Don't be a kid. I know you care for me like your own son,” he shouted on top of his lungs, “That's why I love being here with you! I don't want to leave! I'll miss Taylor's cooking and Dette's dirty jokes. I'll miss everyone here." The thought of leaving everything behind once again made him more nauseous than ever. He hadn't had a home for so long, now that he's finally found one and he had to leave again? Hakyeon was tired of moving from company to company, dorm to dorm, street to street. He was exhausted.

What about his family? Hongbin was right. His silly dream of being an idol had been unknowingly contributed to the depletion of his family resources. His head throbbed from thinking of his past naive belief that his family had been fully supported of him. Even if they had, Hakyeon would not permit them to dote on him any longer, if only it would stop them from doing those back-breaking work with little return. Being a drag was perfect. Hakyeon could enjoy more freedom in pretty dresses and helped with the debt. “No more morning calls. No more injuries. No more exhaustion. No more restrictions. No more uncertainties. No more rejections.” His numb body sunk further to tranquility, unwilling to get up.

Amelia brought back a steamy cup of jasmine tea to his side, "For me, as your father, think about what your future looks like."

"Thanks, father," Hakyeon gingerly cradled the warm cup in his heart. All he saw was the old man's flaky make-up and wrinkles. His own future was just out of reach.

***

The techno club beat blasted everyone out of their seats out front. In the backstage, Jaewhan was fidgeting with his baby-pink highlighted curls, waiting for Amelia to finish hyping up the crowd for the seventh-year Get Drag Queen Pageant (not literally, thank God). Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He bent down to fix his heels that pinched against his sore feet. He could barely stand in that torturous things, let alone walk out of the room..

A pair of hands found his exposed shoulders. "What's wrong?" Hakyeon asked the frowning Jaewhan in the mirror.

Jaewhan crossed his ankles together, "It's wrong to be too gorgeous." he squeezed out a smile.

Hakyeon hit his toned thigh, making him wince. He hooked his fingers inside the shoe straps to loosen them. Jaewhan exhaled a held breath. The expensive shoes sailed to the opposite side of the room, causing Dette to gasp in horror, "Those are my shoes from Chanel!"

"Were you trying to kill him?!" Hakyeon yelled back, startling everyone in the room. It was  rare to hear his composed, flirty voice being raised into an angry tone. Jaewhan clasped his hand, assuring him that he's fine. It wasn't a foul or dirty trick on Dette’s side. Hakyeon left his side to look for something, but Taylor found them first. Taylor bent down to Jaewhan’s feet to slip a pair of gold flats on his feet, "Try walking in them."

Jaewhan walked and ran and skipped. The shoes were worn before so they did not prick his skin at all. He smiled at him gratefully, unaware of the seething daggers sending their way from Hakyeon. No wonder he's the umma here, thought Jaewhan.

Hakyeon came to Jaewhan’s side once more and had his arms wrapped around his flaming red mid-length cocktail dress that was donned with an emerald peacock feather above his chest. Hakyeon in his black leather skirt was plain next to his beautiful boyfriend. He kissed his neck, and whispered "Good luck." An authentic smile carved Jaewhan’s face. He was less nervous than he had been. Maybe he could stand without falling in front of the judging crowd.

“Awe. My girlfriend used to do that to me all the time.”

Heads whipped to Dette, who suddenly grew very melancholy.

“What happened?” asked Jaewhan.

He scowled, not necessarily at Jaewhan, “I found out I’m gay.”

No one raised their voices. They looked at him pitifully, especially Jaewhan.

“Come on!” Dette rolled his synthetic green eyes, “We are good friends now! She’s coming to watch me this year!” Though he was smiling, thinking that she would come, the uncertainty and agitation did not escape Jaewhan at all. He let go of Hakyeon and got close to Dette. First, he stood watching him with his hands awkwardly hanging on his side. Should he give him or hug or slap him in the back and tell  him to keep his chin up? Jaewhan placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure she will come and cheer you on.”

Dette shrugged off his hand, “Of course she’ll come! I’m not worry about her not coming at all!” He stalked away haughtily, perhaps to check if she was there already.

Why is it so hard to be friends with drags? thought Jaewhan. Still, his expression was less rigid than before. He just found more commons with a drag than his own blood.

The ruckus in the crowd finally died down a little. Hakyeon gave Jaewhan one last squeeze. Contestant Number Three was ready to go.

The cheering was too overbearing. Jaewhan nearly forgot about his catwalk because he was trembling too much in front of the big faceless crowd. They were partly veiled in the shadow, but they were also watching him like ghosts, ready to pull him down to his grave. The fact that he was in a dress did nothing to slow down his heart beat. The crowd was fidgeting, so was he. He stole a quick breath and recalled what he had done in rehearsals. His toes wiggled freely in the comfy flats; he walked.

The first step was for his father, who was probably brooding somewhere alone in his office, blaming somebody for his failed marriage. The second step was for his mother, who was also confined in solitude in some far away place, most likely thinking about her little Jaewhan who hugged her for the first time. The third step was for his friends, being somewhere together without him, who forgot about the embarrassing drag and laughed and laughed and laughed. The fourth step was for Hakyeon, who was cheering him on behind the curtain, and his lips was going to either kiss him or praise him or both. The fifth step was for his drag self, who exposed Jaewhan in the eyes of the judgement. The light lined the front of the stage illuminated his dress, setting him on fire. The last step he stood tall for Lee Jaewhan, who was striding bravely on the stage of life. He was in disguise of a drag queen, yet very exposed being Lee Jaewhan. No amount of makeup could cover up who he was. Anyone who knew him could easily identify him as Jaewhan in drag. And for some strange notion, he could live with that. But could he live with himself being completely in honesty? Someone who could live without any restraints nor any masks? Someone who could live with or without any labels?  

A deafening cheer suddenly exploded at the back of the audience. The ghosts lifted the banners which endorsed Jaewhan’s name high up in the air. Their cries were made up of Jaewhan's name. That idiot Sungjae was hopping up and down like mad bunny, trying to get his attention. As if to say, "See? We're all here for you!" They were the people who would laugh and cry with Jaewhan once the bittersweet was all over. "Jerks," Jaewhan muttered under his breath. He would give them all a good beating after he's changed out of his dress.

The walk of his life was finally over without any major accident, but his part was not yet completed. Amelia passed him a mic that signalled showtime. Jaewhan cleared his throat before speaking into the amplifier, "Hello, gentlemen...and ladies," he awkwardly greeted. "I was going to dedicate this performance to my mother, but since she's not here right now, I'll dedicate it to those s over there... No! Not you guys!" he added in panic when some bulky men hopped from their seats. "They are over there in the back!" He pointed at the direction where the booing resonated.

Jaewhan "broke it down" eventually in his breath-taking dress, dancing and singing to his mother's favourite trot song about hard-working ajumma planting rice, which required him to repeatedly bend his back and stuck his round out, stabbing the air with imaginary vegetation. Up. Down. Up. Down. Boo's and laughters divided the room. In the end, they sort of went with the flow of Jaewhan’s enthusiasm and clapped and sang along. The moment when Jaewhan was singing trot in drag was too legendary. Sungjae just had to record it for personal entertainment and future blackmailing.

The after party and celebration had rarely separated Jaewhan from Hakyeon. His friends had been teasing them incessantly for being too clingy. As usual, Jaewhan was blushing furiously. Hakyeon threw an arm around him, marking his territory. They wouldn't allow each other to drink their guts out either. Jaewhan thought Hakyeon had enough of alcohol during his work hours, and Hakyeon tried to prevent Jaewhan from doing something embarrassing under the influence of alcohol. In the end, they had been the only who had managed to stay sober to witness the world collapsing around them. They exercised the power of knowledge by videotaping Sungjae and Amelia drunk crying about excessive daylight in Antarctica's farmland and what should they do to save the orangutans there? And there was Dette, the crowned winner, drunk remixing the trot song Jaewhan (the second runner-up) had sung. Jaewhan replayed the price-worthy video again in the safe haven of Hakyeon's bed. Jaewhan laughed so hard that he fell into Hakyeon's lap.

"You're drunk," he wretched his phone out of Jaewhan's hand. "Go to sleep."

Jaewhan pouted. He hooked a finger in Hakyeon’s collar, pulling it down to expose his chest, "I purposely didn't drink. For tonight." They pressed their lips together as if on cue. Jaewhan snuck the same hand under his shirt. Hakyeon glued their torsos together, gaining better access of his warm cavern. Jaewhan pulled away when the ache below the waist was too much. He took in Hakyeon's flushed face in sight. It was like the first time, where Hakyeon was wearing an artificial wig, looking disoriented in his chair. Or was that Jaewhan himself who was uncomfortable? He reached out to take his wig off. A surge of regret surfaced, fearing for his reaction, but Hakyeon did nothing to retrieve the wig. The hairnet came undone, accompanied by a single sorrowful tear.

"I want all of you, Sammi," Jaewhan lied. He did not want Sammi; he longed for a beautiful man called Cha Hakyeon without any disguise. In his selfish mind, the only persona he would be was Jaewhan's Hakyeon.

"It’s Hakyeon," Jaewhan's heart would have leapt out of his chest if Hakyeon voice did not choke, "Sammi doesn't exist anymore. Today was her last day."

Jaewhan lifted himself off to see Hakyeon better, "What do you mean?"

"I'm going for auditions. I will become a famous idol and make you proud."

"Hakyeon..." he hated to think that he stopped being a drag because of him. It's a good thing for Hakyeon to leave his drag life behind and be treated like a respectable human being, then why was Jaewhan’s heart splitting in two’s seeing him mourning over Sammi? "If that will make you happier," he managed to say. Hakyoen's chest revulsed. They both knew that becoming an idol would not make him any happier than being a drag. Leaving the host club was just something Hakyeon had to do in order to survive the antipathetic judgement. Being a drag would not make his family or anyone in the normal society proud.

"But N, you are making me proud just being yourself."

"'N'?" The monosyllable rolled out of Hakyeon’s tongue like an exotic species.

"You're like the variable 'n'. You can be a drag. You can be an idol. You can be a janitor. You can be a nobody,” Jaewhan cupped his smooth jaw, staring into his eyes full of earnestness. “We’ll still love you."

Hakyeon Jaewhan's hair until he fell asleep. That night, Hakyeon did not give Jaewhan all of him. Like the non-exchangeable confession, some actions were best undone, before they would fall too fast, too deep. Like their first time, Hakyeon stayed up a little longer watching Jaewhan’s sleep. When tomorrow came Hakyeon would be everyone's N. And he would become nobody's Jaewhan.