Work Text:
before the river carries you down towards
the sea, through many valleys and gullies,
I wish, elm tree, to write down in my notebook
the marvel of your green branch.
Likewise, so does my heart long
hankering after light, after life,
For another miracle of the spring,
♡
Seoul, 1988.
To live and to die. To begin and to end. To bloom and to wither. It is a beautifully tragic sensation, to stop and think about these absolute antonyms, the irony behind it all, how we only bring them together to make a point or describe the fate of star-crossed lovers.
Nevertheless, there comes a point in your life where you inevitably find yourself dancing between the two ends of the spectrum in the oddest of ways. Maybe it’s after the loss of a loved one, or after the birth of your first child.
For Jimin and Jeongguk, however, it began as soon as they stepped into their new home.
Ah, the beauty of young love. The couple spent weeks practically vibrating with excitement, not stopping for a second to catch their breaths. There was so much to do, so many papers to sign, too many “yes, mother” for Jimin’s liking, but it was finally happening.
Once Jimin saw the sparkle in Jeongguk’s lovely eyes after they closed the door— their door—, he knew it was all worth it.
“Hyung,” he said, breathless. “Hyung, it’s beautiful.”
The place was far from being beautiful— it was empty, dusty, and the walls were covered with dirty yellow paper that Jimin guessed had been white once— but he couldn’t disagree. It wasn’t the apartment that was bewitching, but rather the future they were picturing before their eyes.
A red couch where they could sit and read poetry to each other after work, a bed with a duvet warm enough they could endure the cold winter nights, a cassette player and their favorite tapes on a shelf, next to the books they had gifted to each other over the years.
It was perfect.
Jimin interlaced their fingers together, glancing first to his right and then to his left out of habit, and flashed Jeongguk the most honest smile that had ever blossomed in his lips.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Jeongguk matched the expression on Jimin’s face, scrunching his nose momentarily. The sun was setting already, bathing Jeongguk’s skin in a mellow orange light that filtered through the living room windows, turning him into gold. Jimin’s heart clenched. He was so enamored by him.
“And it’s ours.”
Jimin nodded. “Mine and yours, my love. Yours and mine. Ours,” he lifted their joint hands and kissed Jeongguk’s knuckles. “Forever.”
Unfortunately, their little moment shattered when they were hit with the realization that they actually had to carry their furniture upstairs, and that they had left their parents behind, who were already irked by the fact that the two boys had managed to get away with their original plans of moving in together instead of waiting to get married, like every young man was supposed to do. In their eyes, Jimin and Jeongguk were just childhood best friends, two overgrown kids that had not been hit by reality yet.
Little did they know that under Jeongguk’s white polo shirt, a ring was pending from a silver chain. A ring that was a promise and a wish at the same time.
“One day, my love. One day the world will remember us.”
The sun was long gone when they closed the last kitchen cabinet, having finally placed all the glasses inside. The two lovers fell carelessly into their new bed with a giggle followed by two deep sighs and warm hands finding each other again.
“I’m exhausted,” confessed Jeongguk, shifting on the bed to lay on his side, holding his head with his free hand. His eyes found Jimin’s face, but not his eyes. Jimin was staring at the ceiling. “Do you still want dinner?”
Jimin shook his head. “Can’t be bothered. Let’s make a strong breakfast tomorrow and go to sleep now.”
To prove his point, he closed his eyes, turned his back to Jeongguk and faked a snore.
Jeongguk let out a laugh, but right after he clung onto him like a koala, throwing a leg over Jimin’s hip and sneaking his arms around his chest. The position was perfect for him to nuzzle Jimin’s neck gently. “We still have to unpack, baby. You can’t fall asleep now.”
“Then go away!” Jimin complained, laughing wholeheartedly as he tried to shake the younger off him. “You can’t cuddle me and then intend to get me out of bed.”
Jeongguk chuckled and untangled himself from Jimin, getting up and offering Jimin his hand to help him do the same.
“Let’s put at least half of our clothes in the closet, and then we’ll go to bed, deal?”
Jimin pouted, making Jeongguk laugh, but agreed nonetheless. Future him was going to thank him in the morning when he attempted to find a decent fit half-asleep. Even if it was a Saturday, they still had to go out and get new wallpaper, some groceries and decorations for the house.
As Jimin unpacked their bags, Jeongguk grabbed cleaning supplies to get rid of the dirt accumulated during the years the place had been abandoned.
Apparently, the apartment had been bought by two women who were best friends right after the condo had been built, during the first half of the 60s. The women had struggled immensely due to the war: their husbands had been killed; their village had been destroyed. They had lost everything. To simply survive, they had moved to Seoul and worked hard and incessantly until they saved up enough money to afford a decent place to live together.
While it all was tragic, Jimin envied them for that. Prices had risen so much in the last decade he was sure that no matter how hard he worked, he would never be able to get a place of his own without the help of his parents. Korean economy was changing at such a pace no one was able to catch up.
According to his mother, the two friends had decided to move back to their hometown to get away from the noisy, ever-changing Seoul after one of them had fallen ill. At least, that is what Jimin remembers from the long conversation they had on the matter. He was embarrassed to admit he had been half-listening, but to be honest, he wasn’t interested in the lives of other people in his new home. He just wanted to create his own memories, leave the past where it belonged, in the past.
“Um, honey?” Jeongguk called him. He was standing before the opened wooden closet. Inside there were a bunch of cardboard boxes and a few worn out blankets, along with a pair of beaten ballerinas and what appeared to be an empty crumpled cigarette box.
“What’s all this?” Jimin got up from where he was crouched on the floor to stand next to Jeongguk and get a better view of the boxes. Now that he was closer, he could see there were three, stacked on top of each other, but they were unlabeled.
“I don’t know. Should we check inside?” suggested Jeongguk, a little hesitant.
Jimin shrugged. “Why not. Just be careful, don’t break anything.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes, annoyed by the hyung-like side that sometimes surfaced when Jimin scolded him, even if they had agreed to drop the honorifics six months into their relationship. Still, he would never admit he liked the hint of authority in his lover’s voice, that warmth spread all over his body knowing he was being cared of.
Between the two, they placed the boxes outside the closet individually so they could look through them comfortably. The first one, heavier than the other two, contained an old vinyl player that still had a record inside. Sadly, the needle was broken.
Carefully, Jimin took the record into his hands and inspected it, squinting his eyes.
“Lee Mija,” he read aloud. “Camellia Lady.”
Jeongguk gasped. “Wasn’t that song…”
“Banned?” Jimin finished for him with a raised brow. “Yeah.”
Jimin placed the record gently on their bed and sat back down on the floor with a heavy sigh. During the 60s, after Park Chunghee’s coup-d’état, hundreds of trot songs had been forbidden and banished from music stations. Broadcasters and musicians labelled them as “Japanese-tinged” and “degenerate”, accusing the genre of not being authentically Korean since it had originated during the first years of the occupation.
Despite having transitioned to a democracy already (albeit just a few years ago— Jimin could not forget the way his hands were shaking when he heard about Gwanju’s massacre), the debate on whether trot was Korean or not was still being held. Songs such as Camellia Lady were no longer banned, but the dismissal of the genre lived in the hearts of Koreans even then, especially amongst older generations who were still being haunted by their memories of colonial rule.
“It’s crazy to think we could’ve gotten in serious trouble for owning that vinyl just a year ago,” Jeongguk said quietly. Jimin could only nod.
They moved onto the second box, which contained an old handmade blanket and a young woman’s hanbok whose skirt was ripped in half. However, the norigae remained intact.
“We should keep it,” Jeongguk suggested. “They bring good luck. I think this one is supposed to bring offspring, though,” he added with a snort.
Jimin tilted his head to stare at Jeongguk as he felt his heart sink. Reaching for Jeongguk’s hand, they shared a look, wistful. Jimin rarely wished he could change anything about his life, but in moments like this, he desperately yearned for a chance to give Jeongguk the life he deserved.
One day, my love.
With trembling fingers and a heavy weight on their shoulders, they opened the last box, which was considerably smaller than the other two. Inside a couple of photo albums and a scrap notebook, whose cover was bent due to the number of pages and cutouts that had been added to it, could be found.
“The photo albums are empty,” Jimin announced after rapidly skimming through them. “There’s nothing here.”
Then, Jeongguk opened the notebook cautiously, not wanting to rip or drop any of the pages inside. Jimin scooted closer to him, hovering over his shoulder to get a better look at it.
A letter was written on the first page.
“My dearest,” read Jeongguk. “It’s our first night sleeping in our new home and I couldn’t be happier. You sleep so peacefully by my side, so unaware and as beautiful as angels, and I, like a fool, cannot sleep nor stop staring at you.
“You may be wondering what this notebook is for. Since we are starting our life together at last, I wanted us to have a time-capsule, somewhere to keep our memories for when they are no longer safe in our minds. Since I know how much you love that camera I got you for your birthday, I know you will do a better job at preserving the most beautiful moments in our life than me. Here is to an eternity together.
Always yours,
your camellia.”
The two boys stood there, with the notebook resting in Jeongguk’s lap, frozen, unable to voice their frantic thoughts. Jimin double-checked the date on the upper corner of the page and indeed, it was 1963. Exactly ten years after the end of the war, which could only mean…
“This was written by one of the women for the other woman,” Jeongguk stated, his voice somehow distant, the aftermath of the initial shock. “They were lovers.”
Jimin nodded his head slowly, gnawing at his lower lip. “Still are, probably. Didn’t I tell you my mom talked to them before showing us the apartment?”
“Oh, right, yeah,” Jeongguk’s stiff shoulders relaxed a little. “Well, then I’m glad… It’d be so sad to learn something bad had happened to them, like…”
He didn’t need to go on for Jimin to understand. He slid his arm around Jeongguk’s waist and caressed his side lightly. “They’re okay, love. They’re still together after everything, after all those years. That’s wonderful.”
The younger smiled bashfully, blushing at whatever was going through his mind in that moment, but Jimin knew. That could be us, too.
“I want to look through it,” Jeongguk said softly, like he was wrong for being curious about their lives. “Do you think it’s okay?”
Jimin hummed. “Go ahead, doll.”
The first picture showed one of the women, who had her hair tied up in a bun and was wearing a long, loose clear dress, standing in their balcony with her arms wide open and a big grin, like she was showing off the view, although there was nothing to be seen but the sky. It was a simple photograph that literally anyone could take, yet it had something magical about it. She looked so happy it was contagious.
At the bottom of the page, a single sentence was written.
“Seoul has never looked this small. July 1963.”
“Look, they moved in the same month as us!” Jeongguk exclaimed excitedly, bouncing. Jimin giggled at the sight, feeling a rush of affection overtake him.
The next photographs showed the same woman in different spots of the city: in front of a flashy neon sign in English that announced a barbershop, sitting in a dabang drinking a cup of tea while smiling at the camera and walking through different streets, most of which Jimin couldn’t recognize because they were all filled with hundreds of similar street signs and US soldiers. Jimin’s favorite was one where they were apparently having a picnic next to Changgyeong palace, and the woman was scrunching her nose as she laughed. It reminded him so much of Jeongguk it made him want to bawl.
However, they came to a point where there were no more pictures, only writing in some of the pages.
“Our first visit to the sea,” Jimin read as he passed the pages. “Our first time taking a plane, our first time visiting that new record shop down the corner, this page is for the time I finally catch you looking ugly (it will remain empty),” and so on.
“Why didn’t they complete it?” Jeongguk frowned in distress. “And why would they leave it behind? I mean, it’s clearly important for them.”
“I have no idea. Maybe they meant to complete it but couldn’t? My mom did tell me one of them was ill, that’s why they moved out.”
Jeongguk looked up at Jimin with a pout. Jimin’s heart flipped inside his ribcage. “Is she okay now?”
“I don’t know.”
Jeongguk exhaled tiredly. Jimin could tell he was already attached to them, somehow. Being the born sympathizer he was, he had a heart too big for his chest. Jimin loved him to bits for it, but it physically pained him to see Jeongguk suffer because of how good of a person he was.
“I have a weird feeling about this, hyung. I don’t know, I just feel like we should return it to them as soon as possible, but at the same time I also feel like maybe they left it behind for a reason?”
Jimin raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Jeongguk lifted the notebook from his lap and held it in the air with both of his hands. “Look at all these empty pages,” he gave a small shake to the notebook to emphasize his words, “all the things they wanted to do but couldn’t. They wanted to grow old along this town, watch it flourish. It feels wrong to return it to them while it’s still empty.”
Jimin swallowed the lump in his throat, an uncanny feeling pressing down on his chest. Jeongguk was right, those women had been through enough. The last thing they would want to see is two strangers bringing back the only thing tying them to their old, probably happier life, and see how it was left unfinished. Either they let it be, or they completed it, like Jeongguk wanted.
“Okay,” he finally said. “But we can’t exactly leave and take a plane or go to the beach right now, college starts in two weeks and I start working next week. You start working next week, too. So, what do we do?”
Jeongguk leaned back and stared up to the ceiling, thinking. “Maybe we could visit the places they photographed,” he suggested, ending the sentence with a high-pitched tone, like a question. “See what’s changed, what’s stayed. Take the pictures they would take if they were still living here now.”
Jimin rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Won’t that make it worse, though? See us living the life they were supposed to have.”
Jeongguk hummed in acknowledgement, but he ended up shaking his head with a little smile on his lips. “I doubt so. I think that they’ll be happy about it. I mean, I can’t tell for sure, I just have this feeling… like it’s the right thing to do.”
Jimin chuckled, endeared by the determination sparkling in his lover’s eyes. “Okay, doll. We’ll start tomorrow.”
Jeongguk’s smile widened. “Yeah? You're okay with this?”
Jimin nodded, grinning like a fool, and grabbed the side of Jeongguk’s neck to gently pull him closer so he could kiss his cheek. Jeongguk beamed at the show of affection. “Promise. Did I tell you today how much I love you?”
The younger pursed his lips, trying to not let his lovesick expression show. He shook his head slightly. “Uh-huh.”
Jimin rolled his eyes but leaned for another peck, this time on the lips. “Hm, I’m pretty sure I did, but I’ll say it again.” Another kiss. “I love you so much,” he leaned in again but lingered right before, letting their lips graze against each other. “I still can’t believe I get to call you mine.” he finally whispered, blushing even though he had said that same exact sentence a million times before.
Jeongguk closed the distance between them, mumbling into his mouth. “I’ll always be yours.”
♡
The next morning, Jeongguk woke Jimin up before the sun was even out. Although it sounds heartless, it was a smart strategy: he knew Jimin would take over an hour to wake up, between dozing off and effectively convincing Jeongguk to cuddle him for five more minutes.
Don’t get Jeongguk wrong; he loved lazy mornings with Jimin. They hadn’t really had the chance to have one except for the rare times that one of their parents left the house, mostly during the summer holidays, and now that they were finally living together, Jeongguk didn’t want to miss any chance to wake up next to the love of his life. However, after the previous night’s discovery, he was vibrating, itching to start their trip around the city.
Finding out the two women were lovers set a spark inside of him. Knowing that, despite all hardships and society’s hatred for what they considered “unnatural”, they would manage to stay together and possibly, still as in love as they were when they took those pictures, had given Jeongguk hope that the world was changing. Slowly, but surely.
Maybe they could also get a happy ending.
After Jimin finally showered and got dressed, they picked out a map and a pen to design their route for the day. Jimin sat crossed legged on the floor, sticking his tongue out between his teeth as he circled every spot he recognized in the pictures from the journal.
Jeongguk smiled to himself. Jimin had these little mannerisms that always got to him, despite having known each other practically all their life. Seeing him all focused, wearing that short-sleeved yellow button up that looked so good against his golden skin, and with his raven hair falling into his eyes, he was a living daydream.
“Okay, I think that’s all,” he said, sighing with satisfaction. “Unless you recognize anything else.”
Jeongguk shook his head. “You know I have the worst memory for places. I could get lost in our own neighborhood.”
Jimin giggled, covering his mouth with his hand. “You already did that, baby. Twice.”
Jeongguk glared at him. “Anyways…”
Jimin snorted. “Yeah, anyways. I think the best thing to do is visit around four or five places? Because some of these are too far… and some don’t exist at all anymore, like this,” he pointed at a photograph of a fancy-looking building, designed in an early 20th century European style, surrounded by clean-cut bushes and round arches that lead to the entrance. “That’s the old Chosun Hotel. Now it’s an ugly American-ish skyscraper,” he clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”
“But we can still go to that dabang you mentioned right? That’s pretty close to here, isn’t it?”
Jimin nodded vigorously. “Yes! I love that place; I’ve been there a couple times and the owners are so nice… no wonder why they have so many pictures there.”
“We could get breakfast there,” Jeongguk suggested, smiling when Jimin visibly cheered up. “Then we could walk around the market and the nearby streets, see what we can find.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll take the bus in Yongsan to get to the palace. That okay?”
“Yes,” Jeongguk reached for Jimin’s hand and left a faint kiss in his knuckles. “It’s perfect. Let me grab my camera and wallet and we’ll go.”
“Your wallet, huh? Does that mean you’ll buy me breakfast?” Jimin singsang as Jeongguk walked into their bedroom.
“Keep dreaming, hyung.”
♡
With the journal in one hand and the map in the other, Jimin walked a few steps ahead of Jeongguk, humming to himself with a content smile as his eyes skimmed around their neighborhood. In spite of having arrived just yesterday to their new place, he seemed to fit perfectly there, blending in with all the young adults that walked around with bags of groceries or the newspaper under their arm as they lit up a cigarette.
Jimin had always had a great sense of fashion, adapting instantly to the new trends and making them his own. That day’s fit wasn’t as bold as other times, just that gorgeous button up and wide-legged dark blue jeans, but Jeongguk was enthralled by the way the fabric of the pants moved with every graceful step he took.
He absolutely loved that about Jimin, the way he walked with such ease yet with purpose, like he was leading an army of men. Jeongguk had grown up watching US soldiers in almost every corner of his country, but he was positive that they would all kneel for Jimin in a heartbeat.
Around fifteen minutes later, they arrived at their destination. The couple opened the door to the tea shop, bells chiming to announce their entrance, and sat down in a little booth next to a window. There, Jeongguk could see the sunny street going down the hill, a woman wearing a polka blue dress, a basket over her head and three children following her, talking so loudly everyone in a 10-meter ratio could hear them. For a second it felt like time had stopped, and Jeongguk finally understood the appeal of places like this dabang, the obsession everyone seemed to have with bringing back the past.
He could also tell why the past owners of their house liked it there so much. It was calm, secluded from the city and its fumes. Even if you could walk outside for two minutes and return to that world, the shop was located at the top of a hill, on the left side of a narrow street with a one-lane road, so you could pretend you were someone else for a second.
The dabang’s decoration fueled that fantasy. The whole place was made of wood; the floor, the tables and chairs, the cups and cutlery. Black and white pictures were framed and hung on the walls, showing famous writers and young students hanging out and drinking tea, and cut-outs from the news that were sorted chronologically to show the history of the shop. Some of them were written in Japanese, mementos of colonial times. Others were even older, written in a Korean more foreign than the Japanese kanji Jeongguk couldn’t read. Grainy photographs of the atomic bombs or the now forgotten royal family adorned these articles, too, which utterly fascinated Jeongguk. In comparison with the pictures inside the journal they were carrying, they looked painfully ancient, although barely thirty years had passed between the two.
“Having fun already?” Jimin asked, interrupting Jeongguk’s train of thought. “You like the place, huh?”
Jeongguk hummed. “The decoration is so cool. I feel a little underdressed, though.”
Jimin snickered, covering his amused smile with the menu. “You look fine. Don’t worry too much. What do you want? The usual?”
Jeongguk nodded, butterflies settling in his stomach. Being known was being loved, and Jimin knew him better than anyone else. Loved him more than anyone else.
A few minutes later, an elderly woman took their order. The place wasn’t busy at all, but she seemed to be the only one around, along with a man of her same age behind the cashier.
When she returned with a green tea kettle and two cups for the two (and a sugar cube for Jeongguk), Jimin took his chance to ask the questions that had been burning at the tip of his tongue from the moment he had spotted her.
“Thank you so much, it smells delicious,” he said, bowing. “This place is amazing. How long has it been running?”
The woman seemed to blush slightly at Jimin’s compliment, which, to be honest, was nothing rare. Jimin’s flirty nature managed to get through everyone, no matter their gender or age. When they first had met, Jimin had brushed Jeongguk’s hair behind his ear while smiling sweetly, and that was all Jeongguk thought about for a week straight. There was no doubt he would have the owner of the shop wrapped around his finger in record time.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” she played with the straps of her white apron, looking down with a bashful and incredibly kind smile that formed wrinkles around her eyes. “My father opened this place in 1902, and it hasn't closed a day since then.”
Jimin let out a low whistle, impressed. He shared a quick look with Jeongguk, winked at him, wordlessly saying “I’ve got this”, and returned his attention to the woman. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been to adjust throughout the years. I mean, each decade has felt like an entire century on its own.”
The woman laughed wholeheartedly. “You bet. This old friend has been around for longer than our country.”
Jeongguk nodded, dumbfounded by how odd the concept of time was. How something that seemed as unmovable and everlasting as a nation could be outlived by a tiny tea shop in the corner of a bypassed Seoul street.
“The music is so nice, too,” he complimented, “I assume the vinyl records are a personal collection?”
“They’re my husband’s,” she replied with a slight fondness in her voice. “He’s a musician himself, you know. He used to play the piano here for hours, had students coming in just to listen to him. Some even gifted him records, others got his favorite tunes as a gift.” She chuckled. “It was like having a celebrity here.”
“Really?” Jimin asked, lifting his left brow in fond amusement.
“Yeah. There were two kids, two lovely girls that lived down the street that came here every single Friday with a new vinyl for him because one of them worked at a record store. Ah, they were so lovely, seriously. Haven’t seen them in years, though.”
Jimin’s hand went up to cover his mouth, his widened eyes finding Jeongguk. The woman seemed unaware of their shocked expressions, so Jimin recovered quickly and cleared his throat, trying to maintain his cool. In that fleeting moment, both had reached a telepathic agreement that they wanted to keep the women’s story to themselves, at least for a while.
“That’s such a shame,” Jimin lamented, knitting his eyebrows together. “We’ll make sure to drop by more often, we really love music.”
A grin bloomed in her lips and she clasped her hands together with joy. “Ah, wonderful! Please come whenever you want!”
The two boys bowed multiple times as they repeated “we will!” until the woman left them to enjoy their tea, which had turned notably colder. They drank up their cups in record time, eager to continue their little investigation now that they had found exactly what they wanted there.
“Where are we headed now?” asked Jeongguk as he hung the camera from his neck, adjusting the strap. “The market?”
“Yup,” Jimin said, but he sounded distant.
Jeongguk lifted his gaze and found him staring at two small telephone cubicles, placed to the right side of the main door. They were not an unusual element in a dabang, but what struck him was their appearance. The telephones were painted bright red, and the dark wood that separated them from each other was covered in yellow and pastel pink sticky notes, along with some other messages written with black sharpies.
Jimin walked up to them, almost in a trance, and started reading the hundreds of words. Jeongguk followed suit, standing a few steps behind, his hand coming up to squeeze Jimin’s shoulders briefly.
Many of the notes had phone numbers scribbled in them, which would be nothing surprising if it weren’t for the small messages that followed.
“To the girl with the red jacket, from the boy who said you were pretty. Call me.”
“I really like you, but I don’t have the courage to ask you out. I know you always come here on Wednesday to call your grandma, so I’m leaving this in hopes you find it and know it’s me. Meet me here tomorrow at 10am if you like me back.”.
“I saw you and I couldn’t stop staring at you. Are you an angel? XXX-XXX-XXX.”
And a response,
“I’ve loved you for years, dumbass. Stop writing notes and come home earlier. I miss you — your camellia.”
When Jimin finally spoke, his voice felt closer than ever. “It’s them again.”
Jeongguk’s hand returned to his shoulder. “That’s totally something we would do,” he whispered.
“Isn’t it destiny?” Jimin asked softly.
Their eyes found each other, in the way they always did. In the way they always would.
“What, you and me? You bet it is.”
♡
Jeongguk had an ambivalence about living in Seoul. It was not a love hate relationship per se; those terms were far too extreme for him. He simply felt apathy towards the city, except for those rare occasions in which he became slightly disposed towards one of the two ends. Sometimes he had the pleasure of waking up just in time to watch the early morning sun rising above the skyscrapers, and some days he would think about how lucky he was to be alive, living in the greatest city in the world. Others, the smell of gasoline and those same lofty buildings, the ones that were stunning after the break of dawn yet hideous when painted by the moonlight, did nothing but awake a sense of longing in Jeongguk that drenched every bone in his body. The days when he missed the sea were the most heartbreaking.
Walking around the city usually positioned him towards the hate side of the spectrum. He had always been reserved, a quiet introvert who never stuck around, who avoided taking the same buses as his classmates just to not be forced to make small talk. However, he found himself enjoying every second he spent out with Jimin, regardless of how loud everyone was screaming in the market they found.
“This is too fancy for a market,” Jeongguk yelled over the noise, “are you sure this is the right place?”
Jimin turned around on his heels to answer. “I am! She wrote the name of the market under the picture!” he whined, defending himself from Jeongguk’s arched brow. “It’s just way different than it was before. Even the name has changed.”
“What was it called before?”
“Dongdaemun! Isn’t it pretty?”
Jeongguk shrugged nonchalantly. “I like Gwangjang better.”
Jimin rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re sooo modern, Jeonggukie.” He teased. “Anyway, I swear this is the place. Trust hyung!”
Even if he didn’t quite trust Jimin, the streets were too packed with people and too narrow for Jeongguk to double-check the journal, but he remembered the photograph. It was a bit out of focus, but it showed the beginning of the street they were walking, capturing just a small portion of the hundreds of stalls that sold all kinds of food. Those frantic places were the heart of Korean culture. Everything Koreans claimed with pride, from the local dishes to the captivating fabrics that hanboks were made of, could be found here. Especially in a place as big as Gwangjang.
Yet Jimin was right, the market they were in had nothing to do with the old one. Yes, the thousands of signs, the ahjummas yelling and the sundae stalls were still there, but now the ground was paved and the lights were brighter. The brands of the products were different, or maybe they were the same ones but had different logos. Even places that were supposed to freeze in time inevitably changed. How terrifying.
After wandering for a while, Jimin nudged his side. “Wanna get something to eat?”
Jeongguk shook his head. “I’m okay. You?”
“I’m fine, too.” Jimin’s eyes became crescent moons. “Let’s go, then. There’s a few more streets I wanna see before we go to the palace.”
Although they couldn’t hold hands in public, no matter how much Jeongguk yearned for Jimin’s touch in that moment, the older kept looking back to check in on him, making sure he was right behind him, and that gave Jeongguk all the comfort he was seeking.
That was another thing he adored about Jimin. He knew how to love him openly, how to kiss him when nobody was watching and which words to whisper in his ear right after making love. But he also knew how to love him quietly, how to give him the perfect look across the room and let Jeongguk know just exactly what he wanted to say.
“I’m here.”
Once they returned to the outside world and were able to breathe again, they checked the notebook again to take another look at the pictures they recalled were taken around the area. Jimin took off, holding it open in one hand as he squinted his eyes to read the names of the streets and shops, seeing if anything matched their 60s versions. Jeongguk, always two steps behind, in charge of taking brand new pictures.
To Jimin’s surprise, not much had stayed the same. They learned that the barbershop they were looking for had been shut down by the government a few years ago, when a scandal broke out. Apparently, many barbershops had been used as a cover for a sex trafficking network. It was not pretty. At least, that was what the current owner of the establishment, which had been turned into a restaurant, told them. Later, Jeongguk would laugh while checking their developed photographs, seeing Jimin’s bummed expression and crossed arms as he posed by the front door.
It was a little depressing, watching the small businesses the women showed in their pictures, like coffee shops or get replaced by franchises of big enterprises, but they were mostly local. At least some of that money would go into bettering their country and their citizens’ lifestyles, or so Jeongguk hoped. Time would be the one to prove him wrong.
Eventually, they reached the bus stop. It was almost noon, the perfect timing to arrive at the park, get some food there, sit in the grass and eat. As if luck were smiling at them, the bus got there just some minutes later, and it was relatively empty, so they could sit side by side.
Jimin sat the closest to the window and pointed at random points of the city throughout the ride, showing Jeongguk the spots he could recognize from the pictures and telling him the history of some of them. He explained how his father used to say Yongsan was full of houses in ruin, the home of the people who were too poor to own one, or whose hometowns had ended up even worse. Jimin’s father used to work in Seoul when he was younger, going back and forth from Busan to the main city to save up some money, right when he had just gotten married to Jimin’s mother. She stayed in Busan, pregnant, while his father worked to exhaustion just to grant them safety.
Jeongguk personally could not relate. Both of his parents had been born into middle-class families who owned businesses that had managed to outlive tragedy after tragedy. Still, hearing the fondness in Jimin’s voice as he told him how the neighborhood below Yongdong-po's bridge had flourished, Jeongguk couldn’t care less about their differences. If anything, it was part of their charm as a couple. They didn’t fit, not as puzzle pieces, but they matched as two souls. Divergent, but in tune.
The walk from the bus stop to the palace did not take long. They could feel a shift in the atmosphere, like the Seoul on the other side of the bridge wasn’t essentially the same as the one they were in. Perhaps it was the distant sound of children running, or the towering trees that hid the passersby from the July heat. Whatever it was, Jeongguk could feel the stress leaving his body, his fingers finally uncurling.
As expected, they were faced with numerous groups of children chasing each other, talking a little too loud for what was socially acceptable, with their exhausted yet endeared parents watching from a distance. There were also couples talking walks, holding each other’s hands or looping arms around waists. Jeongguk didn’t consider himself the jealous type— he was too kind for that sort of anger. Jimin, on the other hand, was more fiery, passionate, the factor that started their fights 90% of the time—, but in those moments, he felt himself rotting with envy.
“We should come here more often,” Jimin said casually. “It’s so nice.”
“Yeah, but it’s a little too far from home isn’t it?”
“We could always move closer someday,” Jeongguk didn’t miss the sly smirk in Jimin’s lips, and he couldn’t help but snort at the sight. He was restless. “Just saying.”
“Yeah?” he wondered out loud, glancing to the side as he tried to avoid the feeling of Jimin’s eyes on him. “And what’s next, a dog?”
Jimin let out a laugh, his head falling back for a second. “Yeah, maybe.”
They walked in a comfortable silence for a while, only talking when they saw a family of ducks walking by the creek and when a little girl fell on her face. Jimin had ran all the way to her to help her get to her feet, and then had crouched next to her and sang a children’s song until she stopped crying. Both the girl’s mother and Jeongguk watched the scene unfold with an incredulous grin on their lips, completely enchanted by Jimin’s skills with kids.
Jeongguk had never been so in love.
They wandered around the palace for a while more, following the creek until it opened into a big greenish pond. After they settled under the shade of a leafy tree, Jimin finally let his head rest against Jeongguk’s shoulder. He interlaced his own fingers together and stretched out his arms, yawning.
“You tired, baby?”
“Hm.” Jimin snuggled closer to him discreetly. “A little, but I’m happy. I love Seoul.”
“It has changed so much,” Jeongguk said, “and it doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop changing anytime soon. It makes me feel a little old, to be honest.”
“How so?” Jimin asked, raising his brows.
“You’ve always said I’m rebellious, right?” Jimin nodded, snickering a little. They had known each other for ages, and despite Jeongguk being younger than Jimin, he always complained about Jeongguk’s bratty behavior. He never used to listen to him even if he was perfectly polite, never leaving out the honorific behind his name, but it was almost like he was mocking it. When they got together, Jeongguk dropped the honorifics altogether and only called Jimin hyung in public or whenever he was feeling extra soft, but he preferred pet-names. “Well, today I realized that I don’t like change. I find it… scary. And that makes me feel old.”
Jimin stared at him for a while before he let out a loud laugh, startling the birds that were fighting for a piece of bread next to them. “You’re so silly.”
Jeongguk frowned and pouted, mildly offended. “You’re so mean.”
Jimin kept laughing, but he raised his hand to card his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair affectionately. “I’m sorry, doll, it’s just…” he chuckled. “You, the boy who almost ran away from home with his boyfriend because your parents wanted you to go on a blind date, calling yourself old for being scared of changes.”
Jeongguk blushed. He still felt ashamed of what had happened that night, but he didn’t exactly regret it. If he had had a way of knowing that running away with Jimin would have guaranteed a content, safe life for the two (like the one he hoped they would get in their new place), he would have gone through with his plan. He only cringed a little at the thought of the fit he threw when his parents suggested the date. He was young, too dumb to understand they just wanted the best for him. They just didn’t know that the best thing that could happen to Jeongguk was sitting right next to him.
“Look,” Jimin continued. “I can’t sit here and tell you that all changes are good, because we both know it’s not true. If my journalism degree has taught me anything is that things can go to shit pretty quickly, but you can’t let that paralyze you, Jeongguk. Yes, the Seoul these women photographed isn’t the same one we’re seeing now, but we ourselves won’t be the ones that we are right now in twenty years. We’ll eventually get wrinkles and back pains and grey hair, but what matters is that our hearts will stay the same.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
Jimin smiled slowly, tenderly, and Jeongguk understood.
“It’s simple,” his love said, “I know my heart won’t change because there won’t be a day when I’ll look at you and think I’m not home.”
♡
They snapped one last picture in the park, one of Jimin smiling as he posed with the lake behind, and they got home just in time to capture the sun setting over the hundreds of skyscrapers of the city.
They didn’t even bother with washing up or changing their clothes. Once they dropped their bags on their bed and made sure they kept the journal in a safe place, they walked into the balcony to take the last pictures of the day. The following day, they would take the film to a shop and get it developed, and contact Jimin’s mother so she could provide them with the women’s phone number. But for now, they could just rest.
Jimin leaned over the balustrade to watch how the city rapidly lit up. Jeongguk’s eyes were on Jimin's side profile, instead, taking in the view of his hair being hit by the breeze and caressing his god-like features, and his gaze, far, far away.
“What are you thinking about, honey?” he asked, slipping one arm around Jimin’s waist.
“Them,” he replied. “What do you think they saw when they looked out the balcony like we’re doing right now?”
Jeongguk was taken aback by the question. “Um, houses and trees? That’s what we saw in the picture.”
“No.” Jimin shook his head gently. “I mean, what do you think they pictured when they stared at Seoul from this view? Do you think they imagined big buildings and cars flying? Or maybe desolation after another war? Do you think it haunted them, still?”
Jeongguk poked his tongue against his cheek, taking a moment to think over his answer. “I think…” he started carefully. “I think you should ask them personally. I still want to return the notebook and all the other boxes they left behind. The real question is,” he shifted and held Jimin’s face in his hand, turning it slightly so he would stare at him. “What do you see?”
It was dark, but Jeongguk did not miss the blush blooming in Jimin’s cheeks. “I see you,” he whispered.
Jeongguk’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yes, baby.” Jimin grabbed the hand that rested on his face and kissed Jeongguk’s knuckles. “I see a shining city, alive and vibrant, but I mostly see you waking up each morning by my side, taking your tie off even before your shoes while you yell “honey, I’m home!”, and a dog.” Both chuckled. “A big, golden retriever running around our place, which is filled with flowers and our giggles because we’ll never stop being children.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, grinning widely. “Looking at Seoul from up here makes me think of the future, and there you are. You’re my future, Jeongguk. I just hope I’m yours, too.”
“Of course you are,” Jeongguk assured him in a hushed voice, all while fighting the smile taking over his lips. He let his head fall back shortly as he laughed and then kissed Jimin fervently, tightening his grip on his waist. Jimin placed his hands over Jeongguk’s chest and sighed contentedly.
When they separated, Jeongguk leaned again to leave a kiss on Jimin’s nose, and then glued their foreheads together. He stared into Jimin’s eyes, which were so wide and so, so bright. The stars sparkling up his darkest nights.
“I swear to you one day I’m going to wear that ring on my finger, Jimin. One day everyone will know my heart is yours.”
Jimin nuzzled their noses, his fingers digging into the fabric of Jeongguk’s shirt. “One day, my love.”
One day the world will be ours.
♡
The following weekend, Jimin borrowed the family car and at 8 A.M. on Saturday, they took off from Seoul. After a little convincing and a few phone calls, Jimin’s mother managed to get them the women’s address, so they loaded all their boxes on the trunk and drove up North.
Their village was not far. It was in the outskirts of Paju, a county around 40km away from Seoul. They rode the small Hyundai in relative silence with the windows rolled down, enjoying the wind hitting their faces and doing the job of waking them up. Jeongguk’s arm always stayed rested on the back of Jimin’s seat, and sometimes he would play with the ends of his hair or massage his neck gently, and then Jimin would hum, letting Jeongguk know he wanted a kiss, to which the younger would comply by leaning and peck his cheek. It never failed to make them both grin like idiots.
Finding the house was a harder task, but after going in circles for a while, feeling each bump on the tacky roads, they reached their destination.
There was a small wall surrounding the house, a medium-sized hanok with a dark-tiled roof and wooden pillars. Around the building, there was a garden with a huge variety of flowers and crops, despite the reduced size of the place.
Jeongguk tapped Jimin’s arm and pointed at one of the bushes. “Look, they have peonies!”
“They’re almost as pretty as you,” Jimin replied, ruffling Jeongguk’s hair which immediately made him flush.
Jimin knew how much Jeongguk liked flowers; he had heard the multiple stories about Jeongguk’s mother’s love for gardening and the multi-colored childhood he had had in Busan. When they had moved to Seoul, it had been impossible for her to keep all the flowers she used to own, so Jimin always made sure to buy her a bouquet whenever he visited the family. Jeongguk’s parents would never know what they really were, but Jimin had tried his best to form a strong bond between them because he knew how much family meant for Jeongguk. He wanted to be on their side, show he was a good influence for their son. Yes, they would never understand to what extent Jimin’s love for Jeongguk went, but they knew he was taking care of him. That was enough.
“Those azaleas are gorgeous, look,” Jeongguk tugged on Jimin’s sleeve and showed him another bush with bright pink flowers. The garden was not organized at all, but instead had been let to grow on its own. That was the charm of Korean gardens, though. They were in direct contact with nature, showing its beauty just the way it was.
“Let’s go inside, love, I’m sure they’ll be pleased to show you later,” he said, pushing Jeongguk’s back forward gently so he would start walking. “We look weird standing here.”
“Oh, let the boy admire the flowers!” a third voice joined them, making them halt. “They’re there for a reason, aren’t they?”
The two immediately took their hands off each other and bowed frantically to the woman in front of them, who burst into laughter at the sight.
“Stop, stop, there’s no need to be so formal,” she scolded them teasingly, waving her hands to shrug it off. “One of you must be Park Jimin, yes?”
Jimin nodded and stepped forward, bowing one last time. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
The woman laughed again, placing a strand of her grey hair behind her ear. She was short and bony, and she was wearing a loose floral dress with a white apron around it. Her hair was tied up with a scarf, but it was falling apart.
“I’m Shin Jieun,” she said with a smile. Her eyes darted to Jeongguk and she cocked a brow. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Jeon Jeongguk,” replied Jeongguk quietly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The woman hummed, pleased. “Who knew boys from Seoul could be this polite?”
“We were raised in Busan.”
“Ah, then it makes sense. Well, come inside, c’mon!” she stepped off the flip-flops she had put on to step outside and entered the house without checking if they were following her. Jimin and Jeongguk shared a hesitant look, and then Jeongguk shrugged and walked inside, leaving his shoes by the entrance.
The house was humble but cozy. There were flowers and pictures everywhere, and music was playing from a distance. It made Jimin smile; it was obvious it was the home of the women they had met through the journal.
She led them to the kitchen and offered them a cup of tea, to which Jeongguk refused but Jimin accepted because he had been craving some good mint tea since their visit to the dabang.
“I apologize for the mess, I didn’t know you would arrive so early,” she explained, dabbing her sweat away with a handkerchief. “Usually, Sooyoung would help, but she left early to run some errands in the city, so she won’t be here till noon.”
“It’s okay, Jieun-ssi, the house looks wonderful,” Jimin flashed her his best smile, hoping to make her feel less anxious. If she only knew what their apartment looked like… she would be terrified. “We won’t bother you for long, we just wanted to return your things.”
“Ah, yes, your mother told me.” She nodded repeatedly as she sipped from her cup. “What a lovely woman. No wonder you’re even lovelier, honey.”
Jimin let his head drop to hide his reddened face. He muttered a quiet “thank you” that made both the woman and Jeongguk laugh, and that was when Jeongguk gathered the courage to start talking.
“Jieun-ssi,” he began, unsure. Jimin squeezed his knee under the table. “While we were checking the boxes you left behind, we found a journal full of pictures.”
Jieun’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought we lost it on the move,” she mumbled, “I was so sure… my goodness.”
She covered her mouth with one hand and gripped the handkerchief with the other. Jeongguk dared to offer his hand to her, and she took it, surprising the boy. A single tear fell from her eye.
“We were shocked and upset to find out you hadn’t been able to continue,” Jimin took over the conversation, giving Jeongguk time to adjust to the sudden rise in emotion. He would never let it show in front of a stranger, but Jimin could tell he was holding back the tears. “Plus, we barely recognized the places photographed, so we went on a little adventure the day after.”
He crouched to get his bag from the floor and rummaged through it to get the notebook out. With all the care in the world, he handed it to Jieun, opened on the last page she and Sooyoung had filled, the first one for Jimin and Jeongguk.
“I hope you can forgive us, but we gave it our own twist, two decades later. Since you didn’t get to see Seoul change, we wanted to bring Seoul to you through our eyes.”
Jieun passed the pages with trembling fingers, but a beautiful grin on her wrinkled features. She chuckled when she saw Jimin posing in front of the restaurant and read his handwritten note aloud.
“I can’t believe I walked up a hill only to find this. Jeongguk wouldn’t stop laughing at me. I hate him.”
Her smile grew as she got through their day, starting from the pictures at the dabang, Jimin with a cup of tea to his lips and a slightly blurry picture of the message on the phone cabin- which she confirmed had been written by her-, then the market, the crowded streets, the view from the bus. Finally, the park.
“It hasn’t changed one bit,” she noticed. “you look so handsome, Jimin-ah.”
Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, thank you. It’s mostly Jeongguk, though. He’s so good at photography he always manages to make me look good.”
Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Hyung, you’re too humble.”
“I agree, but that’s a good thing, too. Humility is the secret ingredient for a perfect relationship. Greedy lovers never get anywhere.”
The look on their face must have been hilarious, because she started laughing loudly as they stared at each other, dumbfounded.
“Did you think I missed the way you two speak to each other?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “There’s a fondness in your words that only lovers have, kids. But don’t worry.” She winked. “It takes one to know one.”
Jimin bit his lip, embarrassed, but he couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first time someone had guessed they were dating, and his heart was still beating in his ears, but he had to remember they were safe. She loved a woman, too. She understood the struggle better than anyone.
Jieun teared up again when she got to the last picture, the one they had taken on the balcony. She went back to the first page of the journal to compare both photographs and let out a nervous giggle when she took in the difference.
“Thank you so much for this,” she finally said as she closed the journal and placed it over the table. “It means more than you can imagine.”
“We just wanted to do what was right,” Jeongguk intervened. “Stories are always more beautiful when they’re completed.”
She set her elbows on the table and held her face in her hands, smiling nostalgically. “Yes they are. When Sooyoungie got sick, I…” she sighed and closed her eyes. “I completely lost it. I pulled all the strings I could, did paperwork like crazy and got on a train back to our hometown. I couldn’t watch her die in a city that had never been her home. Me? I lost all my attachment to this place after the war. Seoul kept me— us— safe. I wasn’t actually in love with my husband. But Sooyoung… She really loved her life here. If I had to do one last favor to her, it had to be this. Coming home.”
“Is she better now?” Jeongguk asked as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.
“Much better. We don’t know if she’ll relapse, God help us, but for now she’s okay. We both needed a calmer place to heal, I think, but I still missed Seoul. You two coming here has been a blessing,” she pressed her palms together and brought them up to her lips. “Thank you.”
“It was the least we could do.”
They stayed for a few more hours to keep Jieun company until Sooyoung arrived. She gave Jeongguk a tour of their garden and they chatted excitedly about different kinds of flowers as Jimin watched, amused. She prepared a basket of oranges and lettuce for them as a thank you gift and told them stories of their past life in the city.
Since Sooyoung had always loved music, she had made her mission to find a good place to drink tea and listen to jazz, and that was how they ended up becoming regulars of the dabang Jimin and Jeongguk visited. Turns out, the Camellia lady vinyl they had found on their closet was given to Jieun by the owner, after they had a heart-to-heart talk about their memories from the war and she mentioned how much Sooyoung loved that song.
She also described how their apartment had looked while they had been living there, a sunny place with flowers hanging from the balustrade and music playing non-stop. It smelled like tangerine and Sooyoung’s shampoo.
That hadn’t changed, either. Just the location.
Once Sooyoung arrived, they talked to her for a while. Despite having gone through a devastating illness, she was just as bright as she looked in the photographs from the journal. Her long hair was nearly white, and Jimin noticed she was constantly shaking and stumbling over her words, but she was lovely. He could understand why Jieun had fallen that hard.
Finally, they carried the remaining boxes into the house and then stood in front of the entrance, ready to say goodbye. He could tell Jeongguk didn’t want to leave; he kept wringing his hands and shifting his weight from one foot to another. Silently, Jimin interlaced their fingers together and squeezed them.
“Thank you so much for being so welcoming,” Jimin said as they both bowed. “We won’t forget this day. If you ever need anything, please call us. You know where to find us, anyway.”
“No, thank you, darlings,” Jieun countered. “You’ve made me the happiest woman in the two Koreas. We’ll be in touch.”
“Drive safely!” Sooyoung exclaimed.
Jimin and Jeongguk began to walk away after bowing one last time, and they had almost reached the end of the garden when they heard Jieun call Jimin’s name.
“Jimin-ah!” she yelled. Jimin tapped Jeongguk’s arms to let him know he would meet him in the car. Then, he turned around and saw the brightest smile he had ever seen on someone’s lips. “Promise me something before you leave!”
“What is it?”
She walked as quickly as her legs allowed her and once she reached him, she placed her hands on his shoulders and stared right into his eyes.
“Promise me you’ll take care of Jeonggukie. Loving him won’t be easy, and you know that, but there’s a way. You wanted to know how Sooyoung and I made it this far, didn’t you?”
Jimin nodded, speechless.
“It’s simple. When he comes home, you are there to greet him. You kiss his tears away and you yell at him to come to his senses when he’s being stupid. You argue, but you forgive. You tell him what’s wrong when he upsets you and you tell him how proud of him you are first thing in the morning. You know what I mean, right?”
When Jimin returned to the car, Jeongguk asked him about what Jieun wanted, startled by the unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, Jimin didn’t say anything, busy buckling up the seat belt. At last, he turned to stare at his lover in the eyes, taking his face in his hand and caressing his cheek with his thumb. Jeongguk grabbed his wrist and smiled at him.
“She told me to stay.”