January 12

One year before the party.

11: 30 am

The ride to the Seoul cemetery had been quiet. Haemin knew Jinxi was going to do something personal and sensitive. So he didn't question when his boyfriend asked to accompany him to the location one late afternoon.

"There is a lake by the temple on the left side," Jinxi said as he stepped out of the car, "Wait for me there. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Jinxi," Haemin called him out as he locked the car, "You will be okay, right? I can come with you."

He knew Jinxi was doing something delicate. He had sensed Jinxi's anxiousness. Throughout the ride, he kept wiping his palms on his jeans. At one point, he even asked Haemin to turn the car back home.

"You want to join me in?" Jinxi felt pleasantly grateful at his suggestion when he saw Haemn nod he readily agreed,"Yes, please."

Jinxi led the way to the back of one of the buildings. The black marble tile sent forth a cold and desolate welcome. He soon found the slanting tile of the stone with the name he could never forget.

Jinxi had never worked up the courage to face his childhood friend.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Haemin rubbed his back. Memories of the past rushed back to him, demanding his attention, clawing its way up the buried ruins.

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"It's okay, Jinxi," Haemin whispered, as he granted a soothing, yet firm support to him.

Jinxi nodded and leaned into his embrace. He knew it was okay, he had Haemin after all, but it was still tough.

The memories were not painful, and he didn't cry anymore. There was no anguish, but melancholy still ran through his veins. A feeling that he would always have for the boy.

"He was my school friend. The first person who saw my potential in art," Jinxi's throat hitched at the thought, but it felt right, "He had a bad life, Minnie. His father was just like mine, but only worse."

Haemin didn't say anything while he repeatedly carrased the hand that he held. He quietly placing a flower to the vase near the shelf.

He offered a loose end for Jinxi to grab onto if he needed it. He opened the door to help Jinxi talk but didn't push him to walk through it. If Jinxi felt like it, he would tell him more about the boy. If he didn't, that was fine too.

"Someday, I'll tell you about him," Jinxi said, laying down his flowers beside Haemin's, "I'll tell you the story of my first friend."

Haemin nodded and held Jinxi's hands, "Someday then."

He realized what the boy had meant to Jinxi. He looked at the old photo through the glass, and could only imagine the pain of losing someone's close friend.

Sometimes, a part of your life is not just a chapter. It might be a whole book, with different genres fighting to seize center stage. Still, when you sense that you got your happy ending or sad ending, open another volume.

It is not over yet, change the genre, and try again. Take out the pen and write until you fill the whole library. You have the choice to do so, even if you believe otherwise.

He believed Jinxi will never fully close that book but it was good as long as he was still writing. It would always be a soft spot, but he atleast was there to hold him. They sat by the lake and left the place a little later, the bunch of flowers on the cold stone sending them off with an appeased heart.