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There was something about the faint outline of lamp posts aligned outside the window, the muffled voices of complete strangers making their way in and out of the busy and dimly lit bar lounge accompanied by the faded jazz music echoing inside that makes it all feel like I’m living a vivid dream. Or just jet lag. My body is beat but my mind is on steroids. So far, I have been getting by with four hours of sleep and at least three cups of coffee ever since I arrived in Amsterdam. Not exactly the ‘well-deserved rest’ I promised myself. But I shake off the brand new stress that awaits me back home and focus my attention back to the man beside me instead.
Kang Younghyun looks blissful and restless under the small spotlight hanging above him. The outline of his face is sharper and smoother at the same time - his nose bridge is emphasized, catlike eyes turning into half-crescent moons when he smiles and hair slightly dishevelled just above his eyes as he does so. He shrugs off his leather jacket, revealing his favorite beige turtleneck sweater underneath. He’s finally feeling the heat of the alcohol in his system.
The band's last stop for their first world tour ended two nights ago and the rest of the members decided to fly home yesterday but Younghyun remained for the rest of the week to begin his month-long Europe tour with his parents.
And me? I have no idea what I’m here for, to be honest. Probably making a fool out of myself again like always. But I am his best friend, after all, and don’t best friends go and support each other?
He looks at me from where he’s slouched, stifling a laugh like me being here with him in an entirely different country is something he totally pictured in his head. I shake my head in a sheer attempt to hold back my own laugh and playfully slap him in the chest.
"I win again," he says. His smug grin makes an appearance as he lazily throws both fists in a celebratory manner.
*** A few nights ago ***
‘Bet? Two bowls of ramen.’
A knowing smile spreads across my face as soon as I read the message that lit up my phone screen.
Bets have always been an inside joke between Younghyun and I. Bets were the birth of our friendship. The first day of freshman year during Literature class, he sat beside me and immediately bet on whether our professor would quote Shakespeare or Marlowe. Since then, we spent our whole university lives doing just that - betting on what hair color he would be sporting for the band’s next comeback, which jacket or sweater would look identical to the ones I already own, which professor was dating who, the amount of coffee we both consumed in a day just to get through classes, or who from the band would steal from his ramen stash back in their dorm.
‘No. You never play fair you smartass’ I hit send.
‘Two bowls of ramen you show up at our hotel room tomorrow. :D’
‘Deal. Make it four since you’re that confident’ I reply as I make my way to the boarding booth to make it in time for my 3 AM flight to Amsterdam.
***
“Four bowls,” I warn him, pretending to down the empty bottle of beer in front of me.
“Have I ever let you down?” Younghyun puts his hand over his heart, a goofy smile plastered on his face. “For the record, you never clarified whether it was twelve pieces of sushi or twelve servings-”
“That’s ‘cause no one eats twelve servings of sushi when they just had a bowl of refillable ramen.” I point out.
“I should be the one who’s offended. We’ve been best friends for what- five years? You still underestimate my capability to enjoy food.” He says with a dramatic frown followed by a laugh, more high-pitched than usual, that kind of sound he makes when he’s borderline tipsy.
Indeed. Five years and countless bets later, here I am in Amsterdam with my best friend, who I happen to have fallen in love with. The realization wasn’t grand - no gestures of grandeur. No bouquet of flowers or boxes of chocolate, no candlelit dinners, no extravagant birthday surprises nor expensive gift-giving. Instead, it came in between moments of vulnerability and solace. I found it in the tiniest of spaces left when his arms wrap around me during my breakdowns, in moments of random conversations over the phone where we’d see the break of dawn and still get breakfast together. It was in both the long and short silences when we’re together, like creating our own sanctuary of unspoken peace and serenity. It seeped through the most mundane moments - him instantly noticing if I didn’t feel well, me knowing when to take him out of his dungeon of a bed for some fresh air as he rushes through deadlines, when he would barge into my cramped apartment with food and spend hours - sometimes the whole day - writing songs while I drown in my readings, or when we go for coffee after petty arguments.
I never figured out when I started feeling this way. Honestly, it doesn’t feel that much different from how we have always been, really. Just that there are more unneeded and unwanted expectations from all these small moments. More heat and less air when we’re in close proximity. Believe me, I have fought every cell in my body to think that this means nothing. That we’re best friends, so of course we’d spend a lot of time together. Of course, we’d be talking about everything and anything. Of course, he’s the first person I would want to tell everything to. Of course, he’s the only person.
“Also your fault for confessing that day.” Younghyun is no longer laughing but he is smiling, confident and teasing.
*** May 2018 ***
“A bet. Right now.” Younghyun plops down beside me. This could only mean his classes have ended for the last day of the semester in his last year at university.
Graduation is weeks away and spring is coming to a close. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in two weeks. We have been understandably busy since the year started, given his overseas promotions and me dealing with a mountain of manuscripts and drafts I had to proofread.
We’re at our favorite spot by the Han River - the usual place we both frequent when class is over or we want a change in scenery ever since we found it when we were freshmen. Sometimes, just me or just him, but often both of us.
“Fine. I’m starving anyways. Sushi?” I say, unbothered to look up from my phone as I rummage through emails for any needed revisions.
Five seconds pass and there’s nothing. I look up from my phone, squinting at the glare of the late afternoon sun to face Younghyun. His eyes are closed and the corner of his lip perked up in a knowing smile. I allow myself to linger at this moment for a few more seconds, bask in his presence without him having any idea, try to memorize this very moment in my head as much as I can.
I’m pulled back to reality when he opens his eyes, clear as the sun and piercing like the first roar of the thunder in the midst of light rain.
“I bet you’re in love with me.” He says. It wasn’t a question and I’m sure as hell he’s not looking for an answer, either.
And just like that, he stands, dusts off strands of grass from his clothes while smiling down on me. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. I think I’m trying hard not to cry. “Sushi. Right now. Let’s go,” He quips. I catch an indistinct giggle as he heads towards the direction of our favorite sushi place with both our bags hanging over his shoulders.
You fucking bet I do, Younghyun.
***
There it was. An explicit love confession and twelve servings of sushi.
“First of all, I did not confess. You forced it out of me,” I say in meaningless defense.
He laughs as if he’s hearing a joke for the first time. He tilts his head and lands his gaze straight to mine. “Your nose is sweating beads right now,” he points out. A tiny quirk of mine whenever I’m nervous or I’m lying. Right now, it’s both.
I frown at the breadstick I’m gnawing. Feigning any recollection of this memory and pretending to be drunk seems like my only way out.
Younghyun is now busying himself skimming through photos of him throughout our walk around the city and during the concert. My mirrorless camera and Polaroid have been the most useful items I brought on this trip so far. All 32 pieces of film and at least 8 gigabytes of memory been used up so far.
“Nice, you took photos of our tiny detour,” he muses.
“I actually took the money shot - here, the moment you realized we were fucked.” I lean back beside him. “Well we did find that vinyl shop and that pasta restaurant so getting lost for three hours was worth it after all. Right?” He says while poking my sides.
The next photo is Younghyun with his parents. I insisted on taking a lot when it came to the three of them knowing they weren’t always together, especially during Younghyun’s teenage years. This was the first time I had seen him actually bond with his parents and honestly, it’s pretty endearing to see him turn into his younger self around them. He doesn’t notice but his voice tends to go a pitch higher than the usual and he lights up when his dad pats him at the back or when his mum rubs his arm.
“I like this photo.” I smile at him.
“Hmm, I like it, too.” He just stares at the photo. I pretend not to notice him leaning closer until our shoulders touch.
We spend minutes rating our own shots and watching videos from the concert. It’s been good until an unwanted Bernard shows up at the camera screen.
“I give this shot a four at the very least but the subject is just a flat zero,” He says. I just roll my eyes at him. “Was this recent?” He squints and glares at me. Sigh, why is he such a child?
“Probably just one of those random dates from before. I must have forgotten it was still there. You can just delete it,” I shrug.
“I can’t believe you settled for less. He is the worst. I mean from me to this asshole?” he mutters.
I remain silent because, well, what Younghyun said isn’t a total lie. Not that I ever compared both of them because it’s unfair and invalid in the first place. But Bernard took advantage of our relationship without me realizing it. I’ve always thought relationships are just like that: compromise, adjust, compromise. Little did I know I was on the gradual downhill of losing myself. My grades were neglected, I hung out less with my friends, cried to sleep more often because of words that were thrown at each other during fights. It’s inevitable to go through all this when you’re in a relationship, they say, but there just came a time when I looked into the mirror and I no longer liked myself.
I snort, instead. “Technically, I didn’t settle for less because we never were together in the first place.” I feel him go a little stiff at the remark.
“Was that bitterness I sense in your tone?” Younghyun scrunches his nose, one of the faces he makes when he’s teasing me.
“Sure, cause I’m the one that brought it up, right?”
“Well… if you want to talk about it...” he presses.
“Whatever. It was a long time ago. Bernard sure did a good job at making me forget,” I say without the courage of looking at Younghyun.
*** November 2018 ***
8:17 PM
Well, shit. There goes the school paper I was supposed to finish. I also happened to miss three calls, two of them from Younghyun. Good. I am not in the mood for company.
I reach for my phone and it opens to the last message from my now ex-boyfriend Bernard:
It’s just so difficult to love you sometimes.
I read and read it all over again. It’s probably true, though, considering this wasn’t the first relationship I messed up because I ‘wasn’t putting in enough effort’ or I ‘lacked affection’. It could be a curse to want a normal relationship. It was hard to believe that I am also not at fault for my break ups, I can be a lot to take, I admit. Maybe I really am difficult to love. I just wish I know how to make it not difficult.
My thoughts are cut off by aggressive knocking on my door. I debate on whether to pretend I didn’t hear it and say I was asleep and tired or I was out studying at the library and had my phone on airplane mode tonight.
“I heard from Ayeon what happened today. Look, just let me in. We don’t even need to talk.”
I trudge towards the door in darkness and unlock the door only to immediately walk back to bed. My face scrunches at the sudden intrusion of light that fills the room but I don’t move an inch. There are momentary shuffles of noise from the kitchen, footsteps pacing around the tiny apartment until he starts making his way to my bed. The sheets ruffles as he lies down beside me. The bed is tiny for two but for some reason, it feels like there’s more room to breathe. Younghyun’s warmth is overwhelming and the smell of old wood and mint shampoo filling the room almost immediately. When he wraps his arm around my shoulders to pull my back against his chest, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’ve been holding in and a tear escapes from my eye.
Younghyun’s body shifts closer to mine and he slides his other arm under my neck - his breath hot above my head. I can feel myself sink further into him as he pulls me closer to the cocoon of his embrace. Maybe it was because I never had to pretend around him, never had to lie about being fine and having to laugh it off. Maybe because I never had to tell him or look at him for me to know what I feel. Maybe because there is so much of him that fills all the empty spaces in me that I allow myself to hurt. It started out with sniffs that turned to heaps of choked up sobs. Younghyun only holds me tighter with every tear that falls and every sob that echoes in the room. He stops the world, the time, and my weeping heart when he whispers ‘just for a moment, let’s be still’.
***
My skin tingles as soon as the cold water hits my face. Patting my cheeks a little harder than usual, I tell myself to get my shit together.
Suddenly, the night has turned into one of those don’t-fuck-up-things-with-Younghyun kind of night. The exchange earlier bothered me more than I actually want it to. This is the first time he has ever brought up my one-sided feelings for him. But that wasn’t really the problem, is it? He probably thinks I’m really over him to joke about it but, I made the mistake of looking right into his eyes. Because his eyes always have answers. Not to everything, of course. But it always has answers to my questions and for the first time, I have no idea what they’re trying to say. He knows if I’m searching for something because he never once looks away. Yet, there was something I couldn’t paint in his eyes. Did I just have a moment with my best friend?
Younghyun is already standing outside the bar when I get back. I check the time: 11:17 PM. Oh, I remembered he booked my flight at 2 AM. He waves over as he sees me squeezing through the pool of people by the door. When I reach him, he’s smiling. All teeth, all troublesome. And just like that, we start our walk back to the hotel.
We’re silent - Younghyun checking out directions on his phone while I focus on steadying my breathing as the cold air seeps through my lungs. I am also aware of our hands lightly brushing as we walk.
“It’s a good 30-minute walk back,” he mumbles, still busy on his phone.
I hum in response and try not to mind our hands. I can sense him looking at me. Again, longer than usual. Oh, Amsterdam, how lovely you are. He casually throws his arm over my shoulder, casually rubbing my arm to warm me up. I could swear breathing has never been such a chore until tonight. It’s funny at times, that I should have gotten used to this much skinship from Younghyun. It’s not the first time he has slung his arm around me. We have hugged, held hands, playfully push and pull each other - hell, we already cuddled - but somehow, just being in his space feels so foreign. It always feels like the first time all the damn time.
Typically, walks with Younghyun are my favorite. I like it when the city fades as background when I look at him and how he’s beauty radiates at different times of the day. The street lamps that capture he’s beauty in a different light at night, the morning sun the dances on his face or the warm afternoons that shine his eyes. Cliche as it is, time stops when we’re in our tiny bubble of inside jokes, playful teasing and casual ridiculous bets when we’re walking.
“So who is responsible for spoiling my grand surprise?” I ask in an attempt to block off all thoughts of everything that’s wonderful and beautiful about Younghyun.
“Don’t get mad at Jae. He really tried his best not to spill anything and told Sungjin, instead. Then hyung started panic cleaning the whole hotel room. That’s how I figured it out.” he says fondly.
“No fair, you know I can’t blame Sungjin! I adore the man too much.”
“You’re my best friend and all, but I won’t let you lay a finger on Sungjin anyways. He’s mine and he’s not for sharing.” he sticks out his tongue. I playfully swat his arm away but he grabs both my hands to stop me. We go from push to pulling for a good few seconds until we both burst into fits of giggles. Until he takes my hand firm and unhesitant.
We spend the next 15 minutes of our walk catching up on the eight months we missed. Eight months of short-lived hellos and abrupt phone conversations. Younghyun tells me about his memorable stops from the tour, the food he liked best from each country, the hotel shenanigans he and the members had done, even short arguments that end up in playful teasing. Then I talk about my new job, the late hours, all the drafts I have to rush and deadlines I have to meet, the boss I hate so much and colleagues that try my patience, my solo weekend trips at the countryside, even an ex-boyfriend who reached out saying he wanted to meet up for coffee.
“And did you? Say yes to Bernard?” he looks up with curiosity.
I snort. “No. I’m pretty sure he’s just bored and wants someone to fool around with. Too bad I’m just as boring.”
“You’re not boring and he’s an asshole.” I detect the seriousness in Younghyun’s voice although his eyes are trained to the stone brick road on a cold night in Amsterdam. I break out into a small smile.
*** February 2017 ***
I quicken my pace as I walk to Han River, the crisp winter wind make my cheeks numb. Seoul is nearly asleep, only the tired and lifeless people remain on the streets, dying to get home. I originally planned to leave the cafe much later until Wonpil sent that text message.
‘Hey, thanks for looking after hyung. He took it harder than the rest of us when we were scolded today for being behind schedule. Let him know it’s not his fault.’
His yellow hoodie emerges from the vague light that paints the night sky upon reaching our favorite spot. Younghyun is seated on the ground with his legs crossed over each other, his hood covering his head and his head held. My pants envelop the space as I sit right across him - doing nothing but stare at the fabric. Even without him acknowledging me, I know that he knows I’m here. We stay and sit in silence for minutes, me trying to catch my breath and him letting his breaths fade in the brisk October wind. Patience. Patience is the only way I know to Younghyun’s heart. Patience is the only way I know for him to let me in. Patience is the only way I know he can let me see him this way - cold and bare.
My wandering thoughts break when Younghyun shifts closer to me, his hood now just a few good inches from my nose. I catch a whiff of dried crisp Autumn leaves and cologne. He leans closer and motions to rest his forehead on my shoulder blade. His warm breath ghosts over my chest where my heart is as if warming it. I melt in the soft fabric when I land my cheek on the top of his hoodie and my heart clenches when he holds my forearm as if to steady himself, afraid to lose the rock he’s holding on to. I feel him shake at first, followed by sniffs and hot tears that fall on my sweater. My hand wraps around his neck while the other softly runs through his hooded hair.
“How heavy was the world you were carrying on your own?” I whisper.
Then he lets out a broken cry that sends a pang of pain straight to my heart. I could only hold him tighter. His hands start to ink itself on my skin from his hold. I can feel him shrink and I feel him sink further. He sobs and cries out his frustration because Younghyun hates letting himself down, but he hates letting other people down all the more. He would rather own the pain than share it. I get it. It’s easier to blame himself. I know because I sometimes see a mirror when I look at him.
***
“I should not have worn brogues tonight,” Younghyun complains. Based on his calculations, we have five minutes worth of walking to go before we reach the hotel. In a span of 20 minutes or so, we managed to bet on the number of street lamps in every corner we turn to, bet on the number of windows along the street that still has the light on, as well as the number of people who would wave back.
“You’re the one who wanted to walk so deal with it,” I am a little over excited as I try to break away from his arms gripping me at my shoulders, his weight pushing me down as he sluggishly walks behind me.
“Oh shit, I see the bridge!"
I look up at Younghyun, all smiles with a playful glint in my eyes. He squints back at me as if reading my mind.
“Wanna bet on whoever reaches the bridge fi-”
I dash towards the bridge before Younghyun even gets to finish, breaking into laughter although I am running out of air. I don’t even look behind to see where Younghyun is but I just go but I sense he’s way behind when I hear him call out 'CHEATER'.
I am almost halfway through the small bridge when Younghyun catches my shoulder and spins me around. I yelp in surprise but it changes to fits of laughter as he tries to hold me back. He is laughing, too, and our arms are twisted from resisting and pushing.
“Okay, okay… fine… y-you… win” I gasp for air.
“You would have never won that. You cheated anyway,” he wipes the sweat on his forehead and is bent over with his hands on his knees.
As soon as I recover, I walk to the rail, basking in the quiet and riveting night of Amsterdam. The moon shines its light down, the stream of water running through the bridge glistens and the stone brick road is dusted off with a subtle shine. I inhale the riveting beauty this quaint country has to offer and take a few minutes in complete silence.
“Can I get my winnings for this bet?” He asks.
Younghyun leans his elbow on the railing, his lashes and the nose of his bridge making an appearance from my peripheral vision. I close my eyes again and smile to myself, etching this memory in my head amongst countless favorite moments with him.
“What could the Kang Younghyun want this time?”
I open an eye and see Younghyun looking at me. Really looking at me. His warm smile slightly shadowed by the moonlight but his eyes are unmistakably brighter. Electricity travels through my arm all the way to my brain and chest as he sneaks his hand into mine.
“Us. I want us.” He says, almost like a whisper.
His eyes still on mine and our hands still locked, he straightens himself up, the light unveiling his face and then I see it. There’s a way that he looks me straight in the eye that may as well last through the night. The warmth of his hand seeping through mine and I give them a small squeeze.
“I know it has taken me a long time to get to this point and I’m afraid I let the moment pass. I don’t know if you love me the same way three years ago but I’m trying my odds here.” He says.
There is nothing about what he’s telling me now is a joke or a prank and I know that because he is my best friend after all. I’ve heard him speak about his family, his band members, his love for music. I give his hand another squeeze.
“Hey. Words. Give me words,” he smiles.
“I… why now?” I whisper.
“I had to make sure I was ready for us. I had to be 100% in this because I know I only have one shot with you. And I perfectly know that I can’t fuck this up. I could never risk losing you.”
I look into his eyes to search for any hints of doubt but there is nothing. Just small galaxies around my own silhouette. I can feel my heart swell from its cages. There is a shift in the air and I breathe it in.
I squeeze his hand back.
"I take that as a yes?"
“Kiss me,” I say to the wind, hoping it reaches his heart.
Younghyun leans in and I do as much as I can to close the space between us. His lips are soft but firm on mine. I feel myself melt into his hand that wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to his kiss, his whole existence. My heart sinks a little when he lets go of my hand but is quickly replaced with a new warmth when he cups the side of my face, bringing myself into the kiss. Kissing Younghyun is just how I imagined it to be but also nothing of what I imagined at all. Like my favorite book that I know inside and out but every read is different from the one before. Our lips break away and he rests his forehead on mine.
“Well, guess I won again,” he leans in once again. I smile through the kiss until I feel his lips do the same. Bets have always been a thing between me and Younghyun, after all.