The next morning was not nearly as awkward or scary as I thought it would be. When I woke up, Taekwoon was already up (which was disappointing, since I would have loved to wake up to the sight of him. But I digress). He was in my tiny kitchen of my tiny apartment, preparing what smelled like omelettes with green peppers and ham. My stomach growled and I rolled out of bed, hair sticking in different directions. I decided to shower first, since I hadn’t gotten the chance to the night before, and I was still in my clothes from work.

    It was a good call. The shower woke me up, and I pulled on some sweats and a t-shirt before looking at the time incredulously when I walked to the kitchen. “I-it’s 9 AM -- , I’m late for work!” I panicked, and was ready to run back into my room and pull on whatever professional looking clothes I had. Taekwoon grabbed my arm, and I looked at him in desperation and confusion, about to ask him if he was trying to make me lose my job.

    “It’s Saturday,” he said simply and cocked a brow. “You don’t have work.”

    “Oh…” he let go of my arm and I looked at the food. “I guess we can actually eat this food then, huh?”

    He nodded, and I saw the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile as he turned off the stove and put the food on both our plates. He’d made coffee as well, and it was honestly the best I’d ever tasted. I sipped it happily and ate by the window -- Taekwoon was on the small couch, watching a music show on my laptop. He hummed along to some of the songs, and so did I, for the ones I knew. As per usual, it was a comfortable silence.

    It made me think about what my mom had always said about silences when I wouldn’t shut up as a kid. She’d always told me that not all silences were awkward. Not all space needed to be filled with noise. She’d said that people we love don’t need to be entertained or connected through words all the time -- the connection is already there. When I was in high school, and I was “in love” with Wonshik, I always hated when things were quiet. There was a tension there, and I felt like I was losing him at any moment that he wasn’t focused on me and what I was saying. I talked constantly, tried to make him laugh or smile.

    It wasn’t like that with Taekwoon. It’s true, I worried about whether or not he actually liked my company from time to time. But overall, I had the reassurance of reminding myself that, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here, on my couch, watching Inkigayo on my laptop. He wouldn’t have made me breakfast. He wouldn’t have gone to dinner with me and fallen asleep in my bed and on the train. Taekwoon wasn’t fake. Taekwoon wasn’t a liar. His actions never contradicted his intent. If he was here, he wanted to be. And that made the silence okay.

    Eleven o’ clock rolled around, and Taekwoon set the laptop aside and looked up at me, eyes imploring. He spoke softly and slowly, like he always did. “Do you...want to go get some coffee with me?” he asked. I ignored the fact that we both finished drinking coffee he’d made not long ago and that there was still some in the pot. I ignored my messy hair and his still-tired nature, because in that moment, he was asking me to go with him, and that was definitely another thing on the list of firsts that had happened in the last 24 hours.

    As to be expected, I nodded like an idiot almost immediately and got up, pulling on my shoes. “That sounds great! P-perfect, even! Let’s go! Let’s go right now!” I practically announced, too occupied with making sure my hair looked over in the mirror of the bathroom to see the small smile tug at his lips as he got up from the couch and pulled his own shoes on.

    When I stepped out of the bathroom, assured that I didn’t look like a hot mess, I was met with the sight of him in one of my t-shirts and cardigans. The t-shirt was a bit tight since, despite us being the same height, he was a bit wider than me, but holy hell, I was not complaining. “Y-you um...you look good!” I piped up. He looked up from his preoccupation with how the sleeves came over his hands, and spoke almost shyly.

    “You don’t mind, right..?”

    “Not at all!” I smiled, once again, probably too fast to not seem desperate. “You look great! Hell, if you wanna keep those, you totally can! N-not because I don’t want to wear them because you’ve been in them. I would absolutely wear something you’ve worn! N-not that I would wear it just because you...I’m...gonna shut up now…” I trailed off when I saw him staring at me, bewildered. “Let’s uh...let’s go?”

    He nodded, grabbing my keys from the counter and handing them to me along with my wallet. I flushed and bowed my head in thanks, following him out the door and locking it behind us. He led the way despite this not being his neighborhood. And he did so surprisingly well. It made me wonder if he had other spots like the bridge -- little places where he would just go and relax, letting the quiet takeover.

    He opened the door to the coffee shop for me, and we entered, and I realized we were going to the one that I always went to before work. Elly stood there happily behind the counter and recognized me immediately. “Jaehwannie! How are you? The usual?” she asked, then looked to Taekwoon and cocked a brow. She said hello and asked for his order, but when he looked away after paying, she gave me a look asking if he was the guy I was so obsessed with. I nodded bashfully, and she gave an approving grin. I paid for my own latte, and she made both of ours expertly. She was very careful to make sure Taekwoon’s was handed to him specifically, and I could only wonder why. I took my own latte, and we sat down by the window, watching people go by in our usual act of sonder.

    Another gentle silence took over, the only thing filling it being the white noise of the soft, sweet indie music that played throughout the coffee shop, and Elly humming in the background. Another background character. Another character just as real as all the others.

    Taekwoon peaked up at me and spoke softly, “Jaehwan...why do we do this?” he asked.

    I looked at him, confused. “Do what?” I asked, and he shrugged.

    “This. Coffee. Lunch. Talking,” he explained.

    “Oh...I dunno, I mean...I like talking to you,” I shrugged, adding a couple words so I wouldn’t just flat out say ‘I like you.’ I would later learn that perhaps the extra words weren’t necessary.

    “Why?” he insisted, though his voice was soft. Almost careful. Was he worried?

    “I just do,” I answered, then quickly realized that was not enough and attempted to elaborate. “You bring up things I’ve never considered. I guess...I don’t know. I look at the world differently when I’m with you.”

    His fingers peeked out of the sleeves of his (my) sweater, tracing along the rim of his cup as he looked down at it, and not in the distance. I wished so deeply in that moment that I could immerse myself in his thoughts and let them swallow me whole. Perhaps then I would understand the intricate processes that were flourishing in his mind, but never leaving his lips.

    He made eye contact with me and spoke softly, “Jaehwan, what does ‘god’ mean to you?”

    I stared at him, confused, and he stared at me as if my answer was going to be the one he’d searched for his whole life. The world around us didn’t exist. Elly was not there. The indie music didn’t penetrate the air around us. The people outside the window were shadows, blurs. I didn’t feel like a background character in that moment, in anyone’s life. I felt like my words carried more weight in the story of his life than my own.

    “I…” I spoke quietly, unable to tear my eyes from his practically pleading ones. “I...was never raised religiously. So I don’t really have a definite answer. God isn’t a person, obviously, but…”

    “But..?” Taekwoon spoke softly, knowing there was more. I felt like he knew more than me. How, I was unsure. But it felt like he was holding the piece to a puzzle crucial to my life and was hiding it behind his back until I answered correctly.

    “But I think that god isn’t not real,” I reasoned. “But I...I can’t think that god is the reason we’re here. You know, from a scientific standpoint. So what point or purpose does god serve? I don’t know. I know there’s something. There has to be. But I don’t know what.”

    “So you believe god has a purpose, but not as a creator?” he clarified, and I nodded. He leaned back in his seat. His eyes were directed at nowhere in particular as he thought. I watched him carefully. Did I upset him? Did I give the wrong answer?

    He stood up and I felt my heart sink, but he simply rested his hand on my shoulder. His hand was cold. He looked down at me and spoke quieter than usual, “When you find god’s purpose, tell me.”

    He walked out without another word, and I couldn’t quite process what had happened. Where did this obsession with god come from, and why was I pulled into it. First there was the idea of background characters -- of insignificance versus impact. Now there was god. It was zero to one hundred very fast, and it seemed like I would have to go through one through ninety-nine in order to find him somewhere on the other side. In that moment, I felt suspended. I had created a place of closeness, only to be separated by a discussion of meaning, and it seemed only the answer would bring me to the ground where he was waiting for me.