to love and be loved.

{ Saudade: (Portuguese)

Longing for someone you love but have lost. It is the love that remains. }

*

*

*

The next month rolled by without much grandiose.

He did well in his exams, really, even his professors had remarked so, with evident satisfaction too. His parents had already booked their tickets to spend Christmas with him, first in a few years that they'd be together for a holiday (one that wasn't even theirs to celebrate, but all was good in the Christmas spirit) to make up for the Mid-autumn festival that they hadn't celebrated together in a while. All in all, the year was picking up and he was feeling good about everything.

Minseok had shifted from his pumpkin spice obsession to gingerbread and took Mingzhou around town, like the good culinary major he was, to taste different types of gingerbread. And if that wasn't enough, he'd put his obnoxious tastebuds to the test and would lament about the plentiful amount of cinnamon spice in his drink before pouring the scalding hot drink down his throat anyway.

On one of those nights, where he'd lose his breath laughing at Minseok's scandalised expression when he'd learn about Mingzhou's very picky taste that didn't encompass Minseok's preferred food, his phone pinged with a notification.

It was the sound of the soft chime that made Minseok look up from the pretzel that he'd been staring at for a few seconds. Enough seconds for Mingzhou to label him slightly mad.

"Why is that notification sound different than the rest?" Minseok perked up visibly at the thought of possible blackmail material, "it's not your mom, is it?"

Mingzhou tucked the phone into his chest protectively.

JF: xiao zhou!!! i landed a modelling gig with an entertainment company!!

[→attached folder: Wei Jun Fei – Modelling Schedule]

He downloaded the unexpectedly large file, bookmarking it as important so as to not lose the folder amongst his other things, before texting him back.

MZ: expected, but congratulations! we should meet to celebrate

JF: okay~^^ after the shoot we can meet at this one bistro downtown! I've heard the food is good

[Google maps→ Location: Bistro Utopia]

MZ: perfect

He smiled under the folds of his woollen scarf.

All Mingzhou had to do was ignore the scrutinising expression that Minseok was sending his way from behind the steamy styrofoam cup of cinnamon-y hot chocolate.

He smiled as he took a sip of the offensive drink.

His internship would start after the new year so he had to complete all his backlog a week before winter break and complete a lot of his homework as well. Not a Herculean task, but it was easier said than done.

*

*

*

"Māmā! Wait at the terminal when you're done at baggage claim, I'll be outside." He yelled into his phone (into her voicemail where her automated cheerful hello made him very suddenly, very queasy) to block out the angry honking and pedestrians' chatting.

It was an insane roadblock, all the vehicles funnelling into the road towards the 'Arrivals'.

He swerved left, the number plate of his car (rented car, he couldn't possibly afford an actual car; he was a college student in the arts, there was no way) almost cracking as he attempted to parallel park into the just perfectly optimal space.

He shut the door with newfound enthusiasm, making a beeline to the airport terminal where his parents were supposed to be waiting. It had been so long since he'd seen his mother in her colourful garb and cheeky smile as opposed to his father's neutral, almost boring, monotonous wardrobe and face-splitting grin.

They worked well, he thought.

He'd gotten his mother's colour palette and father's smile. It was a perfect mash of their personalities, almost a deliberate equivalent of them both.

He tapped his foot against the cold marble tiles of Incheon airport, waiting. There was a stream of passengers, tripping over themselves to file into the cheapest taxis, but none of them recognizable.

He pushed his hair back, into the bucket hat, stuffed his bright red plaid scarf into his grey woollen trench and snapped the band of his gloves against his wrist.

There was something about wanting to appear more refined, put together, dignified in front of his parents. Something to prove to them that yes, he's fine. He had restocked his cereals, cleaned his cupboards meticulously. He even hung up a few polaroids of him and Junfei, some with Minseok just to show them that he was living well, happily.

He had also tried to get rid of the stains of sikhye tteokbokki from the couch, from when he'd irresponsibly and very spontaneously decided to watch a horror film. Naturally, the bowl had tipped to the side in one of the massacre scenes, spilling the dark red sauce onto the beige couch. After failed attempts with baking soda and other YooToob recommendations, he figured it would be easier to pin that little incident on his roommate; it wasn't like he was going to know, Mingzhou would show them around campus when his roommate was swamped in college classes and his part-time job at the mart.

His watch ticked steadily, the minute hand making another revolution. It had been only 5 minutes, he noted. It felt like too long but at the same time, it didn't.

Mingzhou hoped they were wearing something warm, it was colder here than back in his hometown, where the coldest of winters could be shielded by a sweater and maybe a layer of thermals below it.

The wait was agonizing.

It was like the day when he stood outside Junfei's –

"Mingzhou!" the ecstatic yell came from somewhere to his right and he heard her laugh before he saw her smile.

"Māmā," his face threatened to cramp, with all the exercise his muscles were doing to grin like that. He elbowed through the crowd, muttering a quick apology to the lady he'd almost trampled, and threw his arms around her petite body.

He had not realised how much he'd missed having the warm comfort of a mother looming over him until he had made the decision to study in South Korea. An entire ocean and time zone away.

She patted his cheek clumsily, eyes already misty. His father tugged at his arm, wrapping his strong tan arms around Mingzhou's much leaner frame, giving a chance for his mother to wipe the tears from her eyes and put on a vibrant smile.

They really did work well together.

*

His parents were staying at a lovely bed and breakfast about 20 minutes away from campus. Mingzhou unloaded the trunk as they checked into the hotel.

"Hái zi," his mother beckoned him over to where she was standing by the water fountain. A glorious rainbow projected from behind her and he wasted not a second in whipping out his phone and snapping the sight a few metres from him.

She turned back to call him again and was met with her son almost laying flat on the granite flooring. "What are you doing?" she laughed delightedly as the clicking sounds of his phone kept going off.

"Wait. Hold that pose, tilt your head a little higher." He waved his arm in the general direction of where he wanted her to be looking.

She obliged, turning her face this way and that as he commandeered. An impromptu photoshoot, he thought amusedly.

He hadn't done that in a long time now. It had been a while since he'd picked up the camera for anything but a grade.

*

*

*

The weather was, unfortunately, a complete disappointment on Friday, despite the previous days being as sunny as a winter day could offer. They were on their way to the beach anyway, just for old times' sake.

The winds were strong, waves rough, so they sat on the cool grains of sand. Bodies pressing into each other, seeking the filial warmth that they had been deprived of for longer than they would've liked. Mingzhou pushed his head onto his mother lap, feet dangling on his father's.

She carded her nimble seamstress fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp in a way that was very reminiscent of his nǎinai. He pressed into the touch, a million memories projecting themselves onto the dark of his closed eyelids like a movie.

The wind blew hard, small droplets of the salty ocean water sprayed far making their way till where the family was seated.

"How are you, xiao Zhou?" his mother asked, the smile very ironic to the words that had left her lips.

He furrowed his brows. It went unseen because of the long strands of hair that covered them. "I am doing well, mā, I told you."

"Okay," his mother allowed, after a few indiscreet nudges from his father.

"You don't believe me," he realised after a few silent beats, sitting up to meet her eye.

"Of course I do, tián xīn, but it just..." she pursed her lips thoughtfully, "it's not the same. I've seen you happy, Mingzhou, and I've seen you sad but this –"

"It's bittersweet," his father nodded sagely. They never shied from heavy discussions if they felt it had to be said. But they were also very careful about when it was being talked through.

He thought back to Junfei's words last month. 'You have to keep us up with the change.'

Mingzhou looked at both of them.

The obvious streaks of grey running along the length of his mother's charcoal hair, the folds of skin on his father's face. The unchanged was still as bright as the noon sun; his mother's youthful smile and mischievous eyes, his father's loud laugh and failed attempts at reprimanding.

He had grown up without realising that they had, too.

Very cautious about his words, he spoke slowly, "māmā, bàba, have you ever felt like the world was moving so fast that you had no time to pack up and follow."

They looked at him, eyes impossibly soft, with love.

He felt like he was five when he would take licks from his mother's strawberry and father's vanilla icecreams, his own chocolate cone forgotten in his sticky palms. They wouldn't pull their cones away, but would playfully fight over whose cone he should pick. Later he learnt that his parents were both lactose intolerant.

His voice stuck to roof his mouth, but he surged forward at their encouraging looks. "I've been so used to having Junfei around, I'd forgotten that he was...is," he cleared his throat, "he's living his life and I'm living mine."

"Bǎobèi," his mother held up their intertwined palms against the splashes of orange and red the sky was painting itself in.

It was a curious thing how the colours were always the same, shades of pinks, purples or reds and oranges, but they always drew the eye in, always knowing that someone would be there standing in their balcony or at the edge of the sea looking out at the golden sandbar pushing the aqua blue of the sky.

"You aren't parallel lines; every person you meet is a part of your story. The question is how long you're willing to write about them," she rubbed her thumb in the space between his index and middle finger, soothing.

His father pointed at the sky, "the sun sets each day and rises just the same. But if it were the last time it set, the last time you saw it, would you risk letting it pass without something to commemorate? It's your choice Mingzhou, to pick up the threads and continue to weave your lives together."

"But him?" Mingzhou glanced at his father, turning the words in his head and hearing Seongho's mellifluent voice blend into Junfei's. Watching Jeremiah's receding back turn into Junfei's when he was leaving their little dorm. Looking out for Sangtae in the dance recital but his camera had honed into Junfei's body. "What of him, what if he doesn't want to be a part of it?"

"I think," his mother said, eyes still on the horizon where the sun was close to being swallowed by water, "he's left it to you to choose. The choice, xiao Zhou, it was always yours."

*

*

*

The entire city of Seoul was illuminated by lights green and red, the colours flashing brightly against the white of the streets. He swung his hands lightly, his parents letting out a surprised laugh at the sudden jerk of their hands, but joined him anyway.

Christmas shopping, his mother had insisted. His father was a little weak-willed when it came to her, so he let himself get roped into the plan. Not for the first time, he had realised what a perfect pair they were. A push and pull, tug of war, ocean and sand.

He booked them a taxi and watched them drive off to Myeong-dong. "It has the best and widest selection of stores," he had promised. His mother had regarded him with a proud grin, reaching to pinch his cheek. "Look at you," she had said, "you're a real local now."

The bistro was only a block away, so he meandered slowly waiting for the hunger to fully set in. He had been armed with the responsibility of judging the food there because Minseok didn't take his spices lightly. "It's European style food," Mingzhou had laughed, "I'm pretty sure the spices won't satisfy you." He agreed anyways.

His brain was frantically running lines; he wouldn't let it pass as he had with Jeremiah all those years ago. Mingzhou exhaled a very visible cloud of breath and turned at the corner.

Junfei was sitting inside, by the window perusing the menu card with extreme concentration that Mingzhou hadn't witnessed since their high school days. It was a warm feeling to see that same look in his eyes, even if the goal was to eat something tasty and not the shiny A+ on his report card. It was endearing.

He went in and sat opposite his best friend. "Hi!"

Junfei beamed at him, "I've already ordered appetizers, what do you want as the main course?"

"You're here early," Mingzhou huffed a laugh, putting away his gloves and cap.

"Yeah," the reply was a little quiet for Junfei, who always had the loudest, most exuberant exclamations for things. It was a startling answer and made Mingzhou look up from where he was arranging his cutlery and the linen napkin.

Junfei was staring at the table and his expression was... bashful.

"It must be exciting if you are rendered speechless, huh?" Mingzhou quipped, remembering the modelling gig that Junfei had bagged.

"I... well, yeah." He rubbed his nose sheepishly, "I'll tell you, show you later."

Must be one hell of a photoshoot then.

*

*

*

Lunch was an exciting relay of bringing one another up to speed. They bounced from uni and family (Junfei had fiercely made Mingzhou promise to bring his parents to meet him) to the internships and other measly day-to-day things. All tension dissipated, they were back to being cable-knit close, like the very sweater he had on.

Mingzhou kept downing glass after glass of his sparkling water, throat drying too quickly in the anticipation of the words that were being clamped down in his throat.

He had spent the entire night previously going back to every opportunity he had received.

His head was spinning with the slow realisation that he had come to. Likening each and every one of his previous muses to Junfei; the voices, the magazines, the dances, the athletes. The attraction had spun slowly, carefully, each thread overlapping with another such that Mingzhou didn't even realize until he had come home from the beach that day.

I like him, he thought, dizzy.

"I like Junfei," he had said aloud, speaking the thought into existence. The feeling was of pure nerves, but he looked back to those strained looks of happiness when Mingzhou would describe his current muse to Junfei. He had always thought of it as slightly disconcerting, but the idea that Junfei possibly had an inkling of a crush on him, that was motivating. His steady agreement to Mingzhou's plans and the infinite kindness. No one could possibly be that patient by nature alone.

But he had waited so long, Mingzhou was ready to move his chess piece forward.

The ringing of Junfei's phone brought him back to the bistro.

"Hey," his voice became mellow, "I'll be at the park. Yeah, I'm done eating... hm... I'll bring Mingzhou with me... Okay!"

"Is this about showing me something?" Mingzhou teased as they split the bill. His words could wait, it was about celebrating Junfei's speeding career today.

It was only after they were halfway to the park that all those tall glasses of sparkling water showed their effect. Junfei linked their arms in childish glee, causing a burst of affection in Mingzhou's chest, as they speed-walked towards the park beside which there was a small children's library "and a washroom," Junfei assured with a wide grin.

Mingzhou scampered towards the restrooms after Junfei had marked with his finger where he'd be waiting. "I'll be by that big oak tree there," he pointed towards a metal bench that was in the shade of the oak.

He eased himself and gave himself a pep talk before making his way into the crowded park. It was a pet park, he realised, after seeing the numerous dogs chase their tails. In the midst of the careening throng of bodies, with faces that he was disinterested in, he finally saw Junfei's.

He made his way towards his best friend, silently reciting 'I like you, I have for so long' over and over in his head. Junfei lifted an arm to indicate his location. He jogged over following the left hand like it was a beacon of light, of hope.

When he neared the tree, Junfei dropped his arm and Mingzhou followed the line of sight when the muscles in his left hand relaxed and a palm curled around his wrist.

"Oh." He said.

It was all he could manage.

"Oh," Junfei chirped back, nervous.

In between them, Wonhyuk held back a laugh.

"I...you said..." he inhaled, "so it wasn't a magazine shoot or something." His eyes flitted back to the now interlaced fingers. Matching gloves and scarves too.

"There's that too, but that doesn't come out until next month. It's just a small spread, I'll be lucky if it makes the cut." He laughed, a little joy seeping into his previously warbled tone.

"Of course it will, they'd be crazy not to put this face on a magazine," Wonhyuk knocked their shoulders, his voice proud yet teasing. It made him painfully aware of how the distance between him and Junfei was no more just a university away but also another entire human.

Junfei grumbled about his boyfriend being too cheesy; his light blush and twitching mouth, though, were an implication otherwise. Mingzhou's world was crashing down hard on him.

"So," Junfei drew attention back to the... thing. "I had to tell you first. It's a fairly new development, but you had to be the first to know." His face. Junfei was glowing with mirth that had nothing to do with the Christmas cheer.

His words travelled into the pits of his stomach, all plans turned to dust. If he was a puzzle piece, he fit Junfei's side perfectly, but they didn't belong to the same puzzle. Wonhyuk and him, however, worked well.

"I approve," he put on an exaggeratedly dignified face, "but if you hurt a hair on his arm..."

"Duly noted." Wonhyuk grinned, his sharp facial features softening noticeably at the mention of Junfei.

And once again he was reminded of the impact of words. He had failed to cross the thickening fog that had finally cleared.

He was too late.

*

Junfei and Wonhyuk bid him goodbye, after no more than two enthusiastic hugs from Junfei and reminders to meet with his parents, he watched them leave, like a movie ending where the couple rode into the sunset when the sky was a pretty pink and red. His mind flashed back to Jeremiah and Jaesung and he wondered if they were still together.

Somewhere along the way, Cherry blossoms had turned into Oak ("he told me under the oak near our apartment," Junfei had said) and Christmas had truly turned into a lovers holiday, not a 'watch a rerun of The Grinch, dress up as Santa's helpers and sing carols with your best friend' day.

He looked really happy.

*

*

*

Mingzhou didn't know how long he'd been crying, but when he looked in the mirror, he realised it had been a while. His nose was a deep red and his eyes were bloodshot.

He had assumed the appearance of Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer.

Only this time there wasn't any paint or cheerful renditions of carols involved.

*

*

*

{ "It was accidental, my love for you.

But looking back, it wasn't accidental at all.

More coincidentally, you were everything

I had ever wanted." }