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A night out with old friends is an offer Bin would never decline. At his current age of 26, rare chances to loosen the tight grip of reality with the help of soju and lighthearted jokes become some sort of remedy for his workaholic, lonely soul. It's currently 1 am—the time when everything turns to a blur, he reckons.
The alcohol running through his veins encourages his mind to break free, so it does. While thinking about everything and nothing in his near unconscious state, he wanders into a familiar neighborhood. Maybe he shouldn't have let his fuzzy brain manipulate his legs, but he isn't sure that he wants to fight against the force of alcohol. Maybe he has willed himself to do a short walk down the memory lane where a particular apartment building became the witness of his young love.
Once before this, in a chilly autumn night, he went through the exact same street. But he wasn't alone; instead he walked shoulder to shoulder with someone. That time, he was trying to trick his own mind to believing that it—the proximity—was for the sole purpose of sharing physical warmth despite knowing that deep down he knew it wasn't what he truly wanted.
Bin wished he could feel the warmth of this man's love embracing his own, returning it in the same intensity that his love was radiating.
Lee Dongmin was his senior in college. Acknowledged as a piano prodigy, he got multiple offers to showcase his talents in different occasions both inside and outside of the university. So when Bin's theater club successfully asked Dongmin to be an accompanist for their play in the annual art festival, the meeting between the two stangers—one a social butterfly with a smile that outshined the sun, one a goofy lad with a seemingly neverending puny jokes—was inevitable. And just like most people, Bin was astounded by Dongmin's existence. He was totally awkward at first, wasting no opportunity to make a fool of himself whenever Dongmin was around. But they got along pretty well eventually. Bin's friends would often wonder aloud how Dongmin managed to survive all the lame puns and dad jokes.
Bin had always known that his infatuation wasn't going to be something mutual, wasn't that of reciprocation. Still, it didn't stop him from admiring. The realization, in fact, had little to no effect on his flow of affection towards Dongmin.
His memories of that particular night are very vague. He can't remember clearly why he was the one sending Dongmin home. He can't remember what time it was—he likes to think it was 1 am—or for how long they stood in silence waiting for the other to initiate any movement. He can't even remember if he was intoxicated or sober. All he remembers was the faint scent of his own cologne mixed with Dongmin's fabric softener, tentative touches, hesitantly intertwined fingers, and the kiss. The kiss, he thinks, is the reason why he forgets most of the details. It is the only piece of memory he can recall clearly, as it was the only thing he thought about for the rest of the night—or day. It drowned and dissolved everything around him, including some parts of himself. The second they broke apart, he left behind a little bit of his soul on those supple lips, the same way they left lingering sweetness that somehow managed to be something permanent. He hadn't known that a kiss could have such an impact. Even until now, after seven years, he's still amazed everytime the memories resurfaces, though he doesn't let them roam around for long. He's pretty good at keeping them in check. Well, it did take ages to eventually get a grip, and he doesn't want to mention the things he has done along the way.
Several windows of the apartment building are lit up from inside, showing signs of ongoing activity. On the contrary, the dark street almost looks dead with one or two dim lamps turned on. Had he not preoccupied with his thoughts of Dongmin when they walked together that night, he would've been terrified with this kind of surrounding. He laughs a little at that, partly because he feels glad to be able to reminisce about Dongmin without having an internal breakdown.
Deciding that he's had enough reminiscing, he starts his journey home. A breath of wind comes along, and for a fleeting second he notices a very distinct scent belonging to the one and only Lee Dongmin. He pays it no mind as he walks forward, not looking back. It's 1 am anyway, it might be his fuzzy brain taking its revenge for the tricks he's been playing all the time.