pictures of you and me
- continues from ' untitled' -
He bends over the desk and writes. Then he huffs and draws a line through, cancelling out everything that he had just written. He tries again, and stops. A growl of frustration escapes his mouth and he bangs his heads down onto the emotionless table. A tear threatens to escape. The sound of the city beyond his balcony is like an annoying buzz now. He might be in Rome, the ‘Eternal City’ but right now, nothing seems definite. Fixed. Lasting. In fact, it feels like the exact opposite.
Yunho had returned back to Korea after an amazing, passion-filled week in Rome. After that night, he had checked out of his hotel and moved right in with Changmin in his little student-sized studio apartment. Changmin had brought him around the city; exploring. Laughing and taking pictures of each other. Shopping. With each day that passed, Changmin had felt himself growing more and more -in like?- with Yunho. Attracted by the handsomeness of the man’s features. They had stopped by a shop in Piazza Castore one day and Yunho had gone into the fitting room with a handful of clothes, wanting to ‘dress like the Italians’. Then the man had stepped out, a cheeky grin on his face, as he pretended to sashay, dressed in an animal-print jumper.
As a photography student, Changmin had seen more than his fair share of good-looking people, especially in Europe. But Jung Yunho had blown him away. ‘Are you like, a model back home or something?’ was Changmin’s only response as his mind tried to keep up with his emotions. Yunho had only chuckled, shaking his head before he returned in. ‘Hyung, buy it!’ Changmin blurted out. He suddenly had this vision of Yunho wearing the jumper as they made love. Made love, damn it. What love? Changmin shook his head at that thought, grimacing.
Yunho did buy it though, complete with a knowing wink as he paid up. Changmin had blushed and kept quiet all the way home. Where they had then made fucking love with an animal-print jumper-wearing-Yunho.
It seemed like that week was like a flashing disco ball; bright and glittery. Colourful. Kaleidoscopic. Changmin dreaded the day when Yunho was due to return to Korea. Changmin himself was not due to return back to Korea until six months later, for Christmas. As the countdown to departure went into single digits, Yunho would hold him close, kissing his temple gently, whispering comfort into his ear.
Comfort. Not promises. No promises of forever, of continuity, of staying in touch. Changmin’s insecurity had increased even as he smiled in bliss. Like a nagging pain, or a darkening patch, it had eaten away at him until Changmin felt like he had a rotten apple as a heart. But he would not speak of it with Yunho, even though the night before Yunho left, he had tried to get the younger to talk.
‘Changdola,’ Yunho had said, holding onto Changmin’s hands tightly. ‘Are you okay?’
No, Changmin had thought. Not, when I know you leave tomorrow. Not when I don’t know what we are. Not when I can’t call you mine after tomorrow. He had looked up at Yunho’s face, beautiful face, and forced a smile. ‘I’m fine. Have you packed everything?’ Something resembling sadness seemed to flicker across Yunho’s face before he quickly returned it with a smile of his own.
‘No, I’ve packed everything, except for you.’
---
It had been a month since.
For the first few weeks, Changmin’s life had been turned upside down. Seoul, being 7 hours ahead of Rome, meant that he could only talk to Yunho either late at night or early, too early, in the morning. It was easier for him to accommodate Yunho’s schedule as he was a student but Yunho was working. He soon found out that the man was a music producer, and a rather renowned one at that. He worked sketchy hours, depending on the artistes that he was working with, especially in the lead-up to an album release. As such, it was difficult for them to even arrange for a full hour to talk on Skype. They started texting each other more, but Yunho took ages to reply because of work. This led to arguments. Tension. Apologies. Make-up phone/Skype sex (when they could). And then more arguments. A vicious cycle that had led to disillusionment, sadness.
Maybe more so, on Changmin’s part, he felt.
Yunho was tired. Changmin was tired. Despite that, they tried. They really did. They never gave a name to the relationship that they had. How could they, a young 23-year old photography student based in Rome, Italy; and a prolific 28-year old music producer, based in Seoul, Korea? Changmin had not returned to Korea in years, he had gone overseas after high school to study, first to Japan and then on exchange to Rome, for a year, of which he still had five more months to go. Changmin had talked to some of his high school friends back home who had all heard of ‘U-Know Yunho’, the music producer and his ‘party, high-roller’ lifestyle. With every word he heard, Changmin had felt his heart sink deeper into the ocean of insecurity that he had felt since he met the other near the Trevi Fountain a month back.
Stars are put up in the sky because they are a reminder that we should always aim for greater heights, while knowing that we will never reach them.
Yunho was his star. But what was he to him? A November fling, most likely. Someone who kept a man company on a well-deserved holiday from work. Someone who was forgotten promptly when that man returned home to glitz and glamour. Maybe there was someone else, or many someone elses waiting. Other Changmins to keep Yunho company.
The arguments had gotten too much. One day, Yunho had stopped replying his texts. Stopped answering his calls. Stopped completely. Changmin took it as the surest thing he had ever known about the other; a confirmation of his pit-stop in the other’s life, the little role that he had played last November.
---
Changmin looks down at the wads of scrunched-up paper lying around his desk. Everyday, he tries to convince himself he is better. He goes to school, he works hard on his projects, he meets up with friends. But everyday, too, he returns home, alone. Amidst crowds, amidst friends, he still feels lonely. It was like a break-up, although it really was not, he tells himself firmly. We cannot break up, if we were not together in the first place.
Yet the sentimental side (the foolish, silly side, he adds, sullenly) of him demanded that he resolve it once and for all. So it has led to him sitting here. At his desk. Trying to write a letter that would not let itself be written. To resolve something that probably was not even a ‘thing’ to begin with.
---
He just cannot. The pain in his chest thuds loud and clear, as if reminding him that Yunho had meant too much to just ‘write off’. He tries to put his feelings into words but the holes that his pen nib pokes in the paper, only indicate the depth of his heartbreak.
His eyes land on his Canon camera at the side. When Yunho had been in Rome, he had taken the opportunity to snap as many pictures of them, of him, as he could. The silly him had wanted to develop some and send it to him once a month to Yunho, until they could be reunited when he returned to Korea for Christmas at the end of the six months. And then something in his head clicks.
If he could not write, he could tell a story with his pictures. After all, even if things may end, weren't photographs proofs that it had began in the first place?
Quickly, he grabs his camera and bag, and heads off to the film lab at school.
---
About 9,023 kilometres away, Yunho sits in the studio for the fourth night in a row. The couch at the side is littered with evidence of his fretful nights spent there. He is known for his work ethic, especially in the lead-up to a release, and his colleagues have long given up trying to convince him to go home and rest properly.
A month ago, he had been the happiest he had ever been in a long time. At a whim, he had booked a ticket to fly 11 hours to Rome, Italy after seeing pictures in a magazine. He had finally gotten two weeks’ off work before TVXQ!, one of his company’s biggest groups, was due to come back. After that, he knew he would be busy all the way until the new year.
Changmin had not known who he was; he had been away from Korea since he was 18, studying in Japan when his father had gotten posted there. He found the anonymity refreshing, and more so, the young student. Changmin gave as good as he got; he teased back, he laughed with, and most of all, he sat by and listened. Yunho was good at socialising but bad at opening up, yet that very day, at a café near the Campo de Fiori market, he had talked for hours with the man.
But Life had taught him all good things must come to an end.
---
It was the nature of his job, and therefore his life at this present moment. Apart from work, there was no certainty. He travelled often, seeking inspiration or producing music. He went to parties and social events because that was usually where he could meet up with friends and network. He had not even been home to see his family in months. How could he get into a relationship and promise stability and security, when the closest people in his life, were the artistes and crew that he worked with daily. Furthermore, Changmin was thousands of miles away, too far away. Yunho was realistic. Successful long-distance relationships were not built on foundations of just two weeks.
He had tried. For the first few weeks after he had returned to Seoul, he checked his phone constantly. He kept his phone on Roman time, trying to talk to Changmin as often as he could. But then TVXQ’s schedule neared and it got harder. He had to be in the studio and he could not Skype or use his phone there. He had to attend events with his colleagues and industry-mates and started missing texts and calls from Changmin. Then they started arguing.
Yunho hated himself. He was tired, and he took it out on Changmin. He hated that Changmin was upset. It got too much and so, he did what he always did. He worked. And tried his best to forget about the man that lit up his life, if only briefly, a month ago.
Maybe he was being selfish, but after all, wasn't Changmin just a fleeting affair? People never, hardly ever, fell in love in two weeks. At least, not him. Right?
---
A week later-
'Yunho-ssi, A package has arrived for you.'
Yunho looks up from the console where he is trying to figure out some beats. He nods in thanks at the clerk as she places the package on the table in the studio and walks out.
He leans back and stretches, before getting up and walking over to the package.
His eyes widen and he feels his heart plunge as he glimpses the Roman postal stamp on the corner.
Changmin
His fingers tremble as he reaches to open the envelope, he swallows a gulp, not knowing what to think. He is grateful that he is alone tonight, he does not think he has the presence of mind to work any longer. Not with this, not with this piece of Changmin in the same room as him. How did Changmin know his work address? Did that mean he found out who he was?
He opens the envelope and pieces of paper fall out onto the ground. Nothing else, no letter.
He bends down and picks up a piece.
And then immediately, a pain so searing, so deep, etches itself across his heart and he gasps in shock.
---
Do you remember, the day we first met? You asked a stranger to take a picture for us for memories' sake.
After shopping, we sat by the Trevi Fountain and talked. I thought since we were so well-dressed, we should take a picture.
I took this while you slept; in this moment, I thought it didn't matter who you are, I knew your heart and that was enough.
Thank you,
C.
-continues to '11월...그리고'
---
picture credits to story + yeungsinyi
He bends over the desk and writes. Then he huffs and draws a line through, cancelling out everything that he had just written. He tries again, and stops. A growl of frustration escapes his mouth and he bangs his heads down onto the emotionless table. A tear threatens to escape. The sound of the city beyond his balcony is like an annoying buzz now. He might be in Rome, the ‘Eternal City’ but right now, nothing seems definite. Fixed. Lasting. In fact, it feels like the exact opposite.
Yunho had returned back to Korea after an amazing, passion-filled week in Rome. After that night, he had checked out of his hotel and moved right in with Changmin in his little student-sized studio apartment. Changmin had brought him around the city; exploring. Laughing and taking pictures of each other. Shopping. With each day that passed, Changmin had felt himself growing more and more -in like?- with Yunho. Attracted by the handsomeness of the man’s features. They had stopped by a shop in Piazza Castore one day and Yunho had gone into the fitting room with a handful of clothes, wanting to ‘dress like the Italians’. Then the man had stepped out, a cheeky grin on his face, as he pretended to sashay, dressed in an animal-print jumper.
As a photography student, Changmin had seen more than his fair share of good-looking people, especially in Europe. But Jung Yunho had blown him away. ‘Are you like, a model back home or something?’ was Changmin’s only response as his mind tried to keep up with his emotions. Yunho had only chuckled, shaking his head before he returned in. ‘Hyung, buy it!’ Changmin blurted out. He suddenly had this vision of Yunho wearing the jumper as they made love. Made love, damn it. What love? Changmin shook his head at that thought, grimacing.
Yunho did buy it though, complete with a knowing wink as he paid up. Changmin had blushed and kept quiet all the way home. Where they had then made fucking love with an animal-print jumper-wearing-Yunho.
It seemed like that week was like a flashing disco ball; bright and glittery. Colourful. Kaleidoscopic. Changmin dreaded the day when Yunho was due to return to Korea. Changmin himself was not due to return back to Korea until six months later, for Christmas. As the countdown to departure went into single digits, Yunho would hold him close, kissing his temple gently, whispering comfort into his ear.
Comfort. Not promises. No promises of forever, of continuity, of staying in touch. Changmin’s insecurity had increased even as he smiled in bliss. Like a nagging pain, or a darkening patch, it had eaten away at him until Changmin felt like he had a rotten apple as a heart. But he would not speak of it with Yunho, even though the night before Yunho left, he had tried to get the younger to talk.
‘Changdola,’ Yunho had said, holding onto Changmin’s hands tightly. ‘Are you okay?’
No, Changmin had thought. Not, when I know you leave tomorrow. Not when I don’t know what we are. Not when I can’t call you mine after tomorrow. He had looked up at Yunho’s face, beautiful face, and forced a smile. ‘I’m fine. Have you packed everything?’ Something resembling sadness seemed to flicker across Yunho’s face before he quickly returned it with a smile of his own.
‘No, I’ve packed everything, except for you.’
---
It had been a month since.
For the first few weeks, Changmin’s life had been turned upside down. Seoul, being 7 hours ahead of Rome, meant that he could only talk to Yunho either late at night or early, too early, in the morning. It was easier for him to accommodate Yunho’s schedule as he was a student but Yunho was working. He soon found out that the man was a music producer, and a rather renowned one at that. He worked sketchy hours, depending on the artistes that he was working with, especially in the lead-up to an album release. As such, it was difficult for them to even arrange for a full hour to talk on Skype. They started texting each other more, but Yunho took ages to reply because of work. This led to arguments. Tension. Apologies. Make-up phone/Skype sex (when they could). And then more arguments. A vicious cycle that had led to disillusionment, sadness.
Maybe more so, on Changmin’s part, he felt.
Yunho was tired. Changmin was tired. Despite that, they tried. They really did. They never gave a name to the relationship that they had. How could they, a young 23-year old photography student based in Rome, Italy; and a prolific 28-year old music producer, based in Seoul, Korea? Changmin had not returned to Korea in years, he had gone overseas after high school to study, first to Japan and then on exchange to Rome, for a year, of which he still had five more months to go. Changmin had talked to some of his high school friends back home who had all heard of ‘U-Know Yunho’, the music producer and his ‘party, high-roller’ lifestyle. With every word he heard, Changmin had felt his heart sink deeper into the ocean of insecurity that he had felt since he met the other near the Trevi Fountain a month back.
Stars are put up in the sky because they are a reminder that we should always aim for greater heights, while knowing that we will never reach them.
Yunho was his star. But what was he to him? A November fling, most likely. Someone who kept a man company on a well-deserved holiday from work. Someone who was forgotten promptly when that man returned home to glitz and glamour. Maybe there was someone else, or many someone elses waiting. Other Changmins to keep Yunho company.
The arguments had gotten too much. One day, Yunho had stopped replying his texts. Stopped answering his calls. Stopped completely. Changmin took it as the surest thing he had ever known about the other; a confirmation of his pit-stop in the other’s life, the little role that he had played last November.
---
Changmin looks down at the wads of scrunched-up paper lying around his desk. Everyday, he tries to convince himself he is better. He goes to school, he works hard on his projects, he meets up with friends. But everyday, too, he returns home, alone. Amidst crowds, amidst friends, he still feels lonely. It was like a break-up, although it really was not, he tells himself firmly. We cannot break up, if we were not together in the first place.
Yet the sentimental side (the foolish, silly side, he adds, sullenly) of him demanded that he resolve it once and for all. So it has led to him sitting here. At his desk. Trying to write a letter that would not let itself be written. To resolve something that probably was not even a ‘thing’ to begin with.
---
He just cannot. The pain in his chest thuds loud and clear, as if reminding him that Yunho had meant too much to just ‘write off’. He tries to put his feelings into words but the holes that his pen nib pokes in the paper, only indicate the depth of his heartbreak.
His eyes land on his Canon camera at the side. When Yunho had been in Rome, he had taken the opportunity to snap as many pictures of them, of him, as he could. The silly him had wanted to develop some and send it to him once a month to Yunho, until they could be reunited when he returned to Korea for Christmas at the end of the six months. And then something in his head clicks.
If he could not write, he could tell a story with his pictures. After all, even if things may end, weren't photographs proofs that it had began in the first place?
Quickly, he grabs his camera and bag, and heads off to the film lab at school.
---
About 9,023 kilometres away, Yunho sits in the studio for the fourth night in a row. The couch at the side is littered with evidence of his fretful nights spent there. He is known for his work ethic, especially in the lead-up to a release, and his colleagues have long given up trying to convince him to go home and rest properly.
A month ago, he had been the happiest he had ever been in a long time. At a whim, he had booked a ticket to fly 11 hours to Rome, Italy after seeing pictures in a magazine. He had finally gotten two weeks’ off work before TVXQ!, one of his company’s biggest groups, was due to come back. After that, he knew he would be busy all the way until the new year.
Changmin had not known who he was; he had been away from Korea since he was 18, studying in Japan when his father had gotten posted there. He found the anonymity refreshing, and more so, the young student. Changmin gave as good as he got; he teased back, he laughed with, and most of all, he sat by and listened. Yunho was good at socialising but bad at opening up, yet that very day, at a café near the Campo de Fiori market, he had talked for hours with the man.
But Life had taught him all good things must come to an end.
---
It was the nature of his job, and therefore his life at this present moment. Apart from work, there was no certainty. He travelled often, seeking inspiration or producing music. He went to parties and social events because that was usually where he could meet up with friends and network. He had not even been home to see his family in months. How could he get into a relationship and promise stability and security, when the closest people in his life, were the artistes and crew that he worked with daily. Furthermore, Changmin was thousands of miles away, too far away. Yunho was realistic. Successful long-distance relationships were not built on foundations of just two weeks.
He had tried. For the first few weeks after he had returned to Seoul, he checked his phone constantly. He kept his phone on Roman time, trying to talk to Changmin as often as he could. But then TVXQ’s schedule neared and it got harder. He had to be in the studio and he could not Skype or use his phone there. He had to attend events with his colleagues and industry-mates and started missing texts and calls from Changmin. Then they started arguing.
Yunho hated himself. He was tired, and he took it out on Changmin. He hated that Changmin was upset. It got too much and so, he did what he always did. He worked. And tried his best to forget about the man that lit up his life, if only briefly, a month ago.
Maybe he was being selfish, but after all, wasn't Changmin just a fleeting affair? People never, hardly ever, fell in love in two weeks. At least, not him. Right?
---
A week later-
'Yunho-ssi, A package has arrived for you.'
Yunho looks up from the console where he is trying to figure out some beats. He nods in thanks at the clerk as she places the package on the table in the studio and walks out.
He leans back and stretches, before getting up and walking over to the package.
His eyes widen and he feels his heart plunge as he glimpses the Roman postal stamp on the corner.
Changmin
His fingers tremble as he reaches to open the envelope, he swallows a gulp, not knowing what to think. He is grateful that he is alone tonight, he does not think he has the presence of mind to work any longer. Not with this, not with this piece of Changmin in the same room as him. How did Changmin know his work address? Did that mean he found out who he was?
He opens the envelope and pieces of paper fall out onto the ground. Nothing else, no letter.
He bends down and picks up a piece.
And then immediately, a pain so searing, so deep, etches itself across his heart and he gasps in shock.
---
Do you remember, the day we first met? You asked a stranger to take a picture for us for memories' sake.
After shopping, we sat by the Trevi Fountain and talked. I thought since we were so well-dressed, we should take a picture.
I took this while you slept; in this moment, I thought it didn't matter who you are, I knew your heart and that was enough.
Thank you,
C.
-continues to '11월...그리고'
---
picture credits to story + yeungsinyi