Final Part

The next morning Joe agreed to go to class, so they left for college after having breakfast served by August. Joe misses Danish because he is the one who is always with him, even during breakfast hours as well. Joe is zoned out while eating; he is reminiscing about the days that he had spent with Danish.

(The special day he would never forget where they were having lunch in the cafeteria Danish messes food on his lips, and Joe leans his body forward and wipes his lips. Holding his chin with four fingers and wiping softly with deep emotions. They gaze at each other for seconds, and Danish’s face looks so innocent; his eyes look sparkly like stars in the night. He feels like kissing his kissable lips; his intrusive thoughts were saying, ‘Kiss him, kiss him,’ and his lips twitch, but he resists himself and withdraws his hand from Danish’s face and sits quietly as if nothing occurs.

Danish: What happens? Joe nervously turns around sideways and said in a shaking voice, No. nothing, just you are a messy eater, so wipe your food from your lips.” Offers napkins to Danish and asks him to eat fast because the class is going to begin, but Danish is teasing him by eating small pieces of food. Joe is showing he is annoyed by the act of Danish, but he found it cute and admired his act secretly.) August was talking to Joe, but he seems to space out, and he taps Joe’s shoulder, saying, ‘Why are you spacing out? We are getting late for the lecture’. Joe shuddered and nodded his head to OK. Then they went to class to attend.

Meanwhile, over here, rather a volatile scene is unfolding! Mark’s swift rollercoaster ride from shock to confusion and his own dramatic twist of events is injecting realism into the scene. Is that teasing something of a revelation or a hidden truth being revealed? What do the file have inside, or what might have elicited such a response? Mark draws a deep breath and pull out his cellphone. With a nervousness bordering on terror, he places the call. The ringing is deafening, each toll echoing in the depth of his doubt. Sweat beads on his forehead as he silently willed someone to pick up. The moment the connection is established, his voice breaks. “I want an appointment,” he declares brusquely but laced with anxiety. His mind is in a whirl as his eyes flick back to the paper in the bag. He mutters to himself under his breath as he hangs up, his voice barely audible: “What is going on? How could this have occurred? There is something miss with this puzzle…” He draws a rough breath, raking his hair with his hand as his confusion increases. And then he recalls—a shocking realization that sends shivers down his spine. His voice becomes hoarse as he mutters to himself under his breath, “Who is he, then? Who the hell is he?” The room seems to close in around him, the shadows enshrouding, as Mark finds himself on the edge of an answer that could bring it all crashing down.

The next day, Mark finished his appointment he scheduled a day earlier. He phones Jun to join him in the café. Jun agrees, and they meet in the evening. Mark orders the shrimp and offers Jun to eat first. He observes Jun eating but does not say a word, just staring strangely. Then, he orders vanilla flavor cake as desert, but Jun immediately declines his offer, still Mark staring strangely.

Jun: Hey! What is wrong with you? Why are you looking at me like that? Say something if you want to say or ask something, go ahead and ask. Don’t look at me like that; you’re making me uncomfortable.

Mark: Nothing, just thinking about something. How can I explain it to you? Let’s go somewhere else; he can explain more than me. Jun nodded ok, and they went out of the café to somewhere around 20 minutes. Mark stopped and told him that they had arrived. Jun looked through the car window and saw that it was a heart transplant hospital. He was totally confused. Why? Mark had brought him here. What is he thinking? He thought but did not ask Mark anything; he got out of the car and just followed Mark quietly. Mark stopped in front of the one room that was the cardiothoracic surgeon room. He opens the door and greets the doctor. The tension crescendos as the doctor, unflinching yet guarded, drops the truth bomb that shatters Jun’s world. Jun’s fists tighten, his voice trembling with fury as he points an accusatory finger at the doctor. “This… this is outrageous! You’re framing me! You and Mark—you’re both conspiring against me!” His voice grows louder, his anger a shield for the growing terror gnawing at the edges of his mind. But then, the file lands on the desk between them, a damning artifact of cold, hard reality. Hesitantly, Jun’s trembling hand reaches for it. His eyes scan the pages slowly, reluctantly, each word slicing through his denial like shards of glass.

“No…” he whispers, shaking his head and backing away, the file falling from between his fingers and spreading on the floor. He stumbles against a chair, sitting in it, his face a canvas of devastation. Tears smolder at the edges of his eyes as he stares into nothing, his voice shattering with despair as he speaks, his words almost invisible, “This cannot be true.” It just… it can’t. But there it is—the truth he can’t shake, staring back at him from the empty white pages. His head spins round and round, looking for a lifeline in the storm of desperation and disbelief. He buries his face in his hands, his slurred words suffocated by grief: “Who am I? What… what am I even doing here? What’s the point of any of this?”

The room feels claustrophobic, the air thick, as he begins to fight the inescapable, unbending truth. Jun grabbed his chest and sprinted to the roof; hurriedly, Mark followed behind him. He was that worried that he might commit something wrong to himself. Upon reaching the rooftop, Mark was panting and searching for Jun. He was also worried, but in the left corner, Jun sat in the corner holding his legs and sobbing pitifully. Mark slowly approaches Jun, soothing. Jun received too many phone calls from his father, but he did not answer.

Mark: “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Don’t cry, don’t break down. I’ve got you, alright? No matter what happens, I’ll stand by you. You’re my friend, and I won’t let you face this alone.”

Jun cooled down after some time. He called his father by saying that he wanted to speak with him. When he heard the weeping and crying voice of his son, Dr. Nick was really anxious and continued to look out of the window to see whether his son had arrived or not. Jun asks Mark to bring him home. Mark takes hold of Jun by the shoulder and helps him stand. Then they went out of the hospital back to Jun’s home. Upon arrival at home, Jun’s father was worried; when he saw the car, he simply ran down to his son. He embraces his son, clutches him, and asked about what happened to him and why he was crying. His worry becomes confused when he notices Mark coming out of the car.

Dr. Nick: You! What do you do with my son? Did he hurt you? searched everywhere for Jun and with his soft hand on Jun’s cheeks. Dr. Nick is shedding tears from his eyes. Jun wipes away tears from his father’s eyes, and he begins crying as well. Jun asked his father, and Mark said, Let’s talk inside; they went inside. On the living room sofa, they were in, and Jun clasped his father’s hands and stroked gently with his thumbs and asked,

Jun: Why? Father, why do you love me very much? You know the truth, don’t you? Dr. Nick was confused when his son made such a statement to him; he was in such fear of losing his son a second time.

Dr. Nick: What? his trembling voice Truth? What are you talking about? What truth?

Jun asked Mark to hand over the file. Nick was puzzled; hesitantly, Jun released his dad’s hand and handed over the file that the doctor had provided them. Dr. Nick was so distraught and sobbing uncontrollably, holding tightly that file against his chest. Jun extends his hand and helps his dad stand up and hugs him and comforts him. His crying is so heartbreaking that Jun and Mark start to cry as well. After a few minutes of sobbing, Dr. Nick starts talking.

His trembling voice reveling the truth. Those memories before the accident were not his, Jun wasn’t even Jun. The declaration boomed like thunder and Jun gasped, his entire world crumbling while he fought to fit the man, he felt he was, into the spookily odd reality. “What! am I?” Not your son? he panted out, his own voice cracking. Dr. Nick said that you are also my son I love you always don’t say that you are not my son. please! I will tell my story which no one no till now and Dr. Nick start the story of his and his son jun.

We were extremely happy before the death of Jun, just the father and the son. I still recall his birth; he was so small, tiny, and adorable that he would break into pieces by my hand that little, he was. He lost his mother at birth, and thus I became his father as well as his mother. I used to cook, but I was not able to cook all the time whenever cooking was done by my wife, but she was not present for our son, so I have to learn it. I worked very hard to learn, saw videos on YouTube, and at last, I was able to make omelets. He asked me to sit when he was 8 years old, and he would cook for us. That moment he was so little and small and cute in my eyes; I so loved him so much. He cracked eggs and prepared omelets for me, which is tastier than mine. From that day, he instructs me to sit and just have what he prepared in his kitchen. I was so happy my little boy is growing up so quickly.

As a teenager, he took the entire kitchen and took care of me. He was taking care of me like I was his baby. Dr. Nick gets up and goes into his room and comes back with a box. He opens the box and shows the love confession letters. Under the letter, there is a photograph of August. Mark and Jun ask, why is there a photo of August along with a confession letter? Dr. Nick recounts the story. Jun secretly loved this boy as is evident in August’s photo. He is always stalk him but can go one step ahead and tell him how much he loves him.

One day he told me that he is in love and would want to confess love. I was too happy to learn that my little boy plans to make his own family. He pulls out his phone and shows me the picture and told me that he is the one whom I am going to share my love life with. I want to spend the remaining part of my life with him. I was so angry to learn about it and slapped him so hard with rage. Saying this, Dr. Nick slapped his hand on the floor. This is the hand where I hurt my beloved son. Jun holds his hand and asks not to hurt himself. I grounded him for 3 days, but he escaped his room through the window. I knocked on his door, and he did not open it. I was afraid and opened the door using the spare key. He was not there, so I ran downstairs and searched everywhere for him. Luckily, I caught him before he gave confession letter to his crush. I took him by his hand forcefully and locked him in my room, which he cannot exit through the window since it is high up above the ground. I could not believe that my only son is gay, so I let my anger out on him. I wanted to change his mind, but I couldn’t because he took his own life. Shows his suicide letter to Mark and Jun.

Dear Father,

I’ve always looked up to you, admired your strength, your principles, your unwavering sense of honor. But there’s one part of me you’ve never been able to accept—a part of me that I cannot change. I am a man who loves another man. And because of that, I feel like I’ve been forced to choose between you and my love.

But how can I? How can I choose when I love you both so deeply? You are my father, my guide, my anchor. And he is my heart, my soul, my everything. I can’t imagine a life without either of you. Yet, I know the truth. I know that my love for him would bring shame to you in the eyes of others. I know it would tarnish the reputation you’ve worked so hard to build. And I can’t bear to be the cause of your pain, your downfall.

So, I’ve made the hardest decision of my life. By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. I will have left this world, not because I regret who I am, but because I cannot bear to hurt you. I cannot bear to live in a world where I must hide my love, where I must choose between my happiness and your pride.

If there is a next life, I pray to be your son again. But in that life, I hope you will accept me for who I am, for who I love. I hope you will see that love is not a weakness, not a shame, but a gift. There is one last thing I must ask of you, Father. Please, take care of him. Protect him as you would protect me. Don’t let anyone hurt him. Promise me this, Father. Promise me you will honor my last wish.

I love you, Dad. I always will. Your son.

A year ago, my world shattered. He took his own life, leaving me utterly alone. When the cops carried his body away, I followed them in my car, desperate, broken. But the rain—the heavens seemed to cry with me, blurred my vision and I lost sight of them. It was raining cats and dogs, and amidst the storm, I heard a deafening crash behind me. My heart sank. I stopped my car and ran out to see what had happened.

What I saw will haunt me forever: a boy lying on the road, drenched in blood, his face so mangled I couldn’t recognize him. A car speed away into the storm, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. The road was so desolate, so cruelly silent. I rushed to check on the boy, trembling as I checked his pulse. My hands froze when I felt it—he was alive. He was barely holding on, but he was alive. Without wasting a second, I carried him to my car and speed to the hospital.

The doctors did everything they could, but his face was so crushed, so unrecognizable. Days turned into agonizing weeks, and still, he lay in a coma, suspended between life and death. And then, a decision loomed before me—a decision I never thought I’d make. My son Jun was gone forever, but I could give this boy a new chance at life. I could give him Jun’s face, and maybe—just maybe—have my son back in some small way.

That boy became you, my son. The day I lost Jun, I found you. I thank God every day for granting me this second chance, for giving me someone to love, someone to hold. When you woke up from your coma, you remembered nothing of your past life. And though it felt wrong in so many ways, I took it as a blessing, a sign from above that Jun had come back to me through you.

You may never know the depth of pain and love that brought you into my life, but I hope you feel in every hug, in every word, that you are cherished beyond measure. You are my son, and I will forever be grateful to have found you.

The doctor said you have retrograde amnesia. He explained it could mean permanent memory loss in some cases. I was so blind in my love for my son, that I brought you into my life without even stopping to think if you might have a family of your own, searching for you, missing you. I selfishly made every decision without once thinking about your feelings. I saw you as my son and convinced myself that was enough. I’ve carried this truth inside me, knowing that one day, I would have to tell you. But I wasn’t ready. I never imagined the time would come so soon, so suddenly. And now that it’s here, I can only ask for your forgiveness. I see now how selfish I’ve been. I didn’t think about how this might affect you. I’m so sorry, my son. Please forgive me. Even if you can’t remember, even if you choose to hate me, know that I will love you endlessly, unconditionally.

Jun: How could I ever hate you? You saved my life. Right now, my heart is heavy with mixed emotions, and I can’t quite put into words how I feel. But one thing is certain—I don’t hate you. Despite knowing that I’m not your real son, you gave me your love, your unwavering devotion. I owe you so much. But now, I’m left with questions, uncertainties. Should I search for my family? Who am I really? How do I even begin to find them?

Mark: Before he took his life, Jun called me. I had no idea what he was planning—no clue that he was about to make the ultimate sacrifice. His last words were cryptic, “Mark, my friend, I found a heart for you. Go to Little Heart Hospital. When you’re there, I’ll be watching over you—but my heart will be with you.” At the time, I didn’t focus much on his words. They sounded strange, but my own pain took over.

Not long after, I was rushed to the hospital for sharp, unbearable chest pain. The doctors told my parents that my heart needed to be transplanted immediately. Panicked, I told them about the strange call I’d had with Jun and his mention of Little Heart Hospital. My parents raced there and, miraculously, secured the donor heart just in time. The transplant was successful, and I survived—but we weren’t allowed to know anything about the donor. It’s a rule that organ donors’ identities remain secret.

Dr. Nick: How did you suspect Jun wasn’t the real Jun, Mark?

Mark: I’ve been searching for years, trying to find out more about my donor. Yesterday, everything clicked into place. I discovered that the heart beating inside me belonged to Jun. The very Jun who gave his life. And now, here I am, standing before another Jun—the Jun who survived, who carries Jun’s face, who is still with us. I couldn’t ignore the mystery or the connection anymore, so I invited him to the café for lunch.

The real Jun was allergic to shrimp, and he had a unique love for sugar—he never said no to it. I remember asking him, jokingly, why he liked it so much. And every time, his answer was the same: he’d flash his beautiful, bright smile and say, “If you eat sugar, you become sweet like sugar. So, don’t say no to sugar. Without sweetness, my life is incomplete.”

With a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step, he nodded his little head to the rhythm of his own melody, humming a tune as soft as cotton candy.

Sweets, sweets, sweets, oh my sweets.
Cotton candy clouds and vanilla streams,
Chocolate, vanilla rivers in my dreams.
Lollipops dance in the vanilla streams,
Life’s much sweeter with more sweets.
Every bite feels like delight.
Sweets, you’re my heart’s paradise.

The air was heavy with the bittersweet harmony of their shared memories when they remembered Jun—the real Jun, who had left a piece of himself in their hearts. Nostalgia wrapped them in a tight, aching embrace, each word ringing out the laughter, love, and silence.

Mark’s voice shook as he averred, “Whenever I’m close with August or even see him, my heart race.” He paused, a trembling smile on his lips, the kind that carried the burden of happiness and sadness. “Jun was so much in love with August,” he continued softly, his words being a fine string which connects between the past and the present. “His body’s not here now, but his heart… still beats for August.” The room fell silent, the seriousness of feelings burdening them. The truth seeped in deep within—Jun’s love, unwavering and insistent, had crossed even the boundaries of time.”

Jun: “Dad… I mean… Uh, Jun’s dad… What do I call you then?”

His voice trembled, hesitant, like a bridge extended to the breaking point by years of deprivation.

A tender pain frolicked in his eyes, and he shifted forward, his voice low but firm, heavy with the heaviness of a thousand unsaid words. “Don’t call me that my son. You are my son. You call me Dad.” Said Dr. Nick

Jun: You know, Dad. I don’t really know who the real Jun was—his heart, his character—but what I do know is that I bear his face. And another similar thing. You see I also like men. I’d thought to let you know around the time when I’d proposed to August. His voice seemed to hover on the air, trembling very slightly, as if to relieve a truth, he had kept to himself too long.

Dr. Nick’s fingers dropped lightly onto his knees, his eyes upon the lines in his palms, etched deeply with regret and introspective perceptions. “I lost my beautiful boy before. because of boundaries I couldn’t get beyond. Gender boundaries that I was trained to uphold—the philosophy that men would love women, and women would love men. That was the world that I believed was right.”

His words trembled, raw emotion. “Society is changing, but not as much. There’s still cruelty, judgment, and intolerance against those who love differently. The dirty looks, the rumors—it’s awful. And I couldn’t help but think that I was one of them once. But losing Jun opened my eyes. It broke me in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Dr. Nick looked up at his son, a sorrowful but determined glint in his eye. I knew you liked men when I sent my guard to looked after August to fulfill my dead son’s last wish. He informed me that you were making move to August. I was angry at first—angry that my dead son and another son, (you) are both in love with same person. But the truth is, none of it matters. Not the shock, not the constraints of society on us. The only thing that matters is you. He leaned forward, his voice trembling but firm. “I know you’ve had bodyguards deploy for August. And I want you to know that though I may struggle, there is one thing that I can never do: lose another son. I can bear everything but that. Jun, I will love you for you and whoever you love. You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

Jun felt the warmth of his father’s embrace, the weight of silent terrors and love let go. Dr. Nick’s voice cracked as he spoke softly, “I cannot lose you too, so do not try to leave me, please, son.” The request was both fragile and unbreakable, like a thread holding their hearts together. Jun was hesitant, his hands trembling before he hugged his father back, tears streaming down his face. At that moment, the barriers of doubt he had built around his heart began to crumble. Dr. Nick, embracing Jun, shifted his head towards Mark, eyes soft but commanding. He waved his hand, offering Mark to join with them. Mark, who had stood frozen until this moment, bristling with the raw emotion, moved forward hesitantly. Wordlessly, he hugged them both, completing the circle. For one brief, shining moment, the world was held suspended—a shared silence full of love, forgiveness, and a new understanding. The hug said what words could never quite say: they were no longer alone.

The day had drained all the strength from August, and as soon as he got home, he collapsed onto his bed. As the quiet darkness of the evening fell, he opened his phone and scrolled blankly until his thumbs landed on a photo—a snapshot of him and Jun. He was taken back by the remembrance. Here they were, both smiling happily, their smiles trapped in morsels. His heart skipped a beat, and his lips curled in a soft, bittersweet smile as he watched a clip of Jun’s proposal. It was reliving the magical moment all over again. Butterflies danced in his stomach, but these were quickly replaced by a sharp pain of longing. The warmth of such memories filled him with the urge to hear Jun’s voice. He dialed his number, keeping his breath caught as the phone rang—and rang—and rang. No answer. Again and again, he called, the quiet on the other end growing thicker and heavier with each try. At last, brokenhearted and discouraged, he pouted in his bed and fell into an unquiet sleep.

Morning broke, and August tried calling once more, his fingers shaking as he pressed dial, hoping against hope that Jun would answer. But his hope failed him when the telephone rang and rang without being answered, just as it had the night before. Nights blended into indistinguishable chaos, and days drew out to create a week. Frustration, which had started initially, gradually evolved into widespread concern. August’s worry consumed him, squeezing out every last passing minute as a tense prayer for news. No longer tolerating the silence, August took action. He phoned Jun’s office, hoping someone there could shed light on his whereabouts. But all his queries were met with disappointing responses. “Jun hasn’t reported to the office for weeks,” they informed him. This response only increased August’s distress. He hoped against hope for something more, so he asked for Jun’s house address, hoping that it would be his last chance to find him. But the staff refused, invoking privacy protocols, and left him with nothing but more unanswered questions.

The call ended, and August sat silently in shock. His heart was torn in two. Each unanswered question cut him apart; each thought of Jun left him sadder and weaker. All he could do now was wait—a never-ending, agonizing wait— for Jun to return, or for the answers to finally find their way to him.

August had spent countless nights and sleepless days trying to come up with answers, but every attempt to find Jun had been answered by crushing silence. The weight of not knowing and yearning overwhelmed him, and one day, not able to bear it any longer, he sat alone on a park bench. The world around him began to blur as he sank deeper into his despair. With blank stare into space, he stood lost in thought, and then he heard suddenly his name—soft but clear. He turned around violently, his heart racing. It was Mark. Delighted to see a friendly face, August stood up from the bench and greeted him, though his exhaustion was apparent in his forced smile. Mark looked at him intently, concern etched on his face. “What happened to you, August?” he asked kindly. “Nothing. Everything is fine,” August replied, his voice hollow and unconvincing. Mark hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “I’m sorry, but. you’re my friend’s boyfriend, and I just can’t help it. That’s all—nothing more than that. At the words, something inside August gave way. He looked up at Mark, his voice trembling as he insisted, “Is he really your friend? If so, can you please tell me—where is he? Why is he not calling me back? Did he… did he fall out of love with me?”

The emotion he had kept down for weeks finally overwhelmed him. Tears began to flow from his eyes, coursing down his face as he struggled to keep himself together. But it was in vain; his sorrow was naked. Mark, touched by August’s pain, moved closer and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His voice was soft, almost beseeching. “August, Jun has been through a lot—more than you know. He just needs to recover. But I tell you, he did not lose love for you. He loves you so much. Please, give him some time. He’ll come back to you, I promise you that. Just. be patient.”

August nodded through his tears; his resolve fueled by what Mark said. Although his heart ached, he decided to wait for Jun—to believe that, in good time, he would discover the truth from him. It was a bitter hope, but it was hope, at least.

It was nearly two endless weeks for August, secretly waiting for Jun to come back and inform him about the reality behind his disappearance. That evening, after a lecture in his collage, August saw a person lurking in the black hallway. The lighting was making things look hazy, and despite not catching the face of the person, he ignored it off as one from the room next door. As he walked up, preparing to pass by, a hand reached out and clamped onto his arm, holding him fast and drawing him in. August stumbled, his head hitting the solid, warm chest of the stranger. He looked up, his eyes moving slowly and there he was Jun.

The rush of relief, the overflow of feelings, was so overwhelming that August could hardly stand it. With no hesitation, he embraced Jun, holding him as letting him go would be losing him again. Jun grasped just as tightly, their embrace speaking words neither could voice. Time was suspended as they held each other, their gasps merged in the silent, darkened hallway but just as suddenly as the moment came, it shattered. August released Jun, stepped back, and turned toward his dorm. He opened the door and walked inside, leaving it ajar. He said nothing, his actions cold and detached, so far removed from the warmth of their reunion moments ago. Jun, startled and confused, hesitated before stepping inside after him.

In the room, August went about his routine like an automaton, as if Jun were not even present. He avoided Jun’s eyes, his presence, and even his voice. The walls August had built between them seemed impenetrable. It was when August was washing his face that Jun crept up. Quietly, he slipped behind him and wrapped his arms around August’s waist. The warmth of Jun’s embrace could not be resisted, but August struggled against it, trying to wriggle free. But Jun simply held him tighter, head on August’s shoulder and softly speaking, voice trembling with sincerity. “August,” he murmured, voice cracking under the weight of his own guilt, “forgive me. For everything. I didn’t hurt you on purpose.” August froze, the resistance in his body faltering. The vulnerability in Jun’s words, the unspoken pain in his hold, seeped through the cracks in his armor. He didn’t pull away this time, yet he didn’t respond either. His heart waged a silent war between anger and the love he couldn’t deny. And there they stood—two souls entangled, one seeking forgiveness, the other yearning to trust again.

They sat side by side on the couch, the room’s silence broken only by the rhythm of their breathing. August, his eyes never looking away and questioning, braced himself. He had waited two long days to find out why Jun had vanished, and now the answer hung suspended in the air like a strand of hair. Jun breathed deeply, his shaking hands delving into his pocket. “I wanted to give this to you,” he breathed, holding out a crumpled sheet of paper. His voice held a weight that took August by surprise. August’s heart pounded as he took the paper, unfolding it in urgency. His eyes scanned the words, each line seeping into his brain. It wasn’t the explanation he’d wished to hear about Jun’s disappearance—it was a love confession.

Dear August,

I have written and rewritten this so many times, and I am searching for the nerve to say to you with my heart’s words that have been hushed all this time. I always believed words are strong, and today I am placing that belief in the words to speak the truth which I’ve never spoken to myself. August, there is something special you carry with you, something that shines and travels with you wherever you are. You bring color to the ordinary and make the world you’re in vibrant.

At some point, I realized that my heart beats differently when I think of you. It’s faster, a bit louder, like it’s trying to tell me something I’ve already known, I care for you, deeply. I don’t ask you anything in this confession, but I couldn’t possibly let another day go by without making you aware of the way that I feel. To know you is to have a gift, but if there’s even the slightest chance that you might feel the same way about me, it would mean everything. Whatever it is, I love you, August. Always.

Yours, Jun

Confused, August looked up, his lips parting as he whispered, “What is this, Jun? Why now? I’ve already said yes to you, why this letter?” Jun turned to him, his gaze soft yet intense, and before speaking, he leaned in close, his breath brushing against August’s skin. His forehead rested briefly against August’s, his hand warm and steady on the back of August’s neck. He looked into his eyes, a storm of emotions brewing in their depths. “I wanted to let you go to the real Jun. But it’s unbearable. The thought of you with someone else breaks me, August. My heart can’t take it. I can’t survive you not being with me,” Jun confessed, his voice filled with agony. With that, he rested his head on August’s shoulder, his vulnerability laid bare.

August, though bewildered, spoke softly. “The real Jun?” He hesitated, his hands tightening around the letter. “What is it? Tell me, Jun, the truth.” Jun lifted his head slightly, his eyes welling up with naked emotion. “This letter, it was written by the real Jun. I want you to know that I am not him.” But my love for you, August, it’s real. Every part of it. Every part of me is yours.” August’s breath hitched as he processed the revelation. Slowly, he raised his hand to Jun’s cheek, his voice steady, unwavering. “I respect the love from the real Jun,” he said, pressing his palm over Jun’s heart. “But I’m in love with this Jun. The one sitting right here. For a moment, the world stopped. Jun’s head fell against August’s chest, their hearts pounding as one, the quiet between them heavy with understanding.

The air within was quiet, heavy with the weight of their emotions. August’s words hung in the air between them, wrapping around Jun like a rope. He could no longer hold back. Bursting full in his chest, he moved forward. Jun cupped August’s face gently, his thumb tracing against his skin as he leaned in. Their lips touched, gentle at first, but the kiss intensified, with the unspoken vows and the raw emotion of their feelings. It was as if the world outside had vanished, leaving only the two of them in this instant.

August’s hands made their way to Jun’s back, drawing him in, as if to tell him he would never let go of him. Jun’s fingers braided into August’s hair; his fingers were reverent as if he cradled something holy. The evening played like music of their hearts, every beat harmonizing with the other. They spoke their truths in whispers, laughed, and allowed love to fill the entire room square by square. It was an evening of bareness, of oneness, of becoming one body and soul. As they lay together, their breaths mingling, Jun rested his forehead against August’s. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the depth of his emotion. August smiled, his fingers tracing patterns on Jun’s skin. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. At that time, they were no longer Jun and August, they were a single heartbeat, a single soul, bound by a love that was unshakable and eternal.

The sunbeam crept into the room during the morning light as August’s sleep was awfully disturbed by the sharp ringing of his phone. Groggily, he answered without looking at the screen. His voice sounded hoarse, still husky in the residues of dreams. “Hello?” he mumbled.

“August, I need your help,” a nervous-sounding voice over the line.

August’s eyes opened, the name on the screen catching his attention, “Danish.” His heart jumped, surprised to hear from someone he hadn’t talked to in what felt like ages. He sat up hastily, not wanting to wake the peaceful figure still wrapped up in the sheets beside him. Sneaking out of bed, he tiptoed to the door and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“Of course I’ll help you, my friend,” he answered, his voice more alert now. The conversation was brief, but the sense of needing to rush clung unattractively to the air afterward. When the call ended, August turned to go back into the room; behind him, Jun was standing. He got startled first, his arms crossed, his hair a tousled mess, and his expression unreadable.

“Who was that?” Jun asked, his tone steady, but his eyes betraying a flicker of something else. Jealousy?

August hesitated for a moment before responding, “It was Danish. He needs my help with something close to him. I said I’d help.” Noticing the slight furrow on Jun’s brow, August softened his tone and added, “I want you to accompany me in this plan. I trust you, and to be honest. I think you’ll be a big help.”

Jun’s lips curled into a slow, playful smile. “Anything for you, my baby meow,” he taunted, his voice full of love as he mussed August’s already tousled hair. Not wasting any time, Jun took out his phone and called Daniel. “Get ready,” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “We have a plan to put into action.”

The air was charged with unspoken tension as the two shared a look, equal measures of love and anticipation. What was Danish’s mysterious request? And why did it feel like the start of something much more interesting than they were prepared for? The answer was hiding in the air like an invisible melody, just waiting to be discovered. August called Joe and asked him to meet at the café. Feeling a little rebellious, August decided to skip classes that day, and Joe agreed without hesitation.

After finishing his morning routine, Joe stepped out into the world, dressed up with excitement for the day ahead. As he made his way, a small child approached him, holding a delicate red rose and a small note. Intrigued, Joe unfolded the note.

Hello, handsome! You got 1 rose. I have set 20 roses with notes to kids—collect all 20 roses and come find me to know who I am.

Joe’s curiosity piqued, and he continued his journey. As he descended the stairs, another child appeared, presenting him with another rose and a note that read:

Today you look more charming than usual.

The flattering words brought a smile to his face, his heart fluttering with the sweet attention. Determined to uncover the mystery, Joe headed straight to the park. There, yet another child presented him with a rose and a note:

You are always cheerful and have a positive attitude. I’ve fallen for your silly jokes.

Joe chuckled softly, touched by the sentiment. As he wandered, he collected 16 more roses, though these didn’t come with notes. Finally, he arrived at the café, where at the door awaited the last rose, accompanied by a message:

Open the door, my sunshine.

With his pulse quickening, Joe pushed open the door. A magical scene unfolded before him—a cascade of rose petals showered from above, surrounding him in their fragrant embrace. When the petals settled, he noticed a path of roses laid out before him, leading to a mysterious figure at the end, standing cloaked in shadows as all the spotlights shone only on him.

His curiosity and nerves rising, Joe walked along the rose-petal path. The scent of the roses seemed to grow sweeter with every step as the figure ahead became more distinct. Suddenly, the flashlight dimmed, and a loud bang shattered the quiet—the sound of confetti bursting into the air. Glittering fragments floated around him like joyful whispers in the wind. Joe paused, mesmerized by the festive display, before finally lowering his gaze to meet the person standing before him.

Tears welled in Joe’s eyes as he slowly recognized the face of the one before him. It was Danish. The sight of him brought an overwhelming surge of emotion, and tears of happiness streamed down Joe’s cheeks. Before he could say anything, Danish stepped forward, wrapping him in a warm, enveloping hug that felt like home. They remained in the embrace for what felt like an eternity, the world around them fading away. After a moment, Danish gently let go, his hand reaching out to tenderly wipe the tears from Joe’s cheeks. His eyes brimmed with sincerity and vulnerability as he spoke, his voice trembling yet steady:

“Sorry I took too much time to realize my feelings for you and to gather the courage to come to you with my love confession. When we first met at school, and you helped me with the bullies… that was the moment I lost my heart to you. I was so afraid to confess my love because I wasn’t sure if you were like me. I was scared that if I told you how I felt, you might leave me—just like others have left my life before. I didn’t want you to suffer like I did, so I chose to walk away. But I can’t stay away from you anymore. I’ve realized that I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. I want to be with you until we grow old, sharing every moment, every laugh, every joy. Joe… will you be my life partner?”

Joe’s emotions overflowed. He felt like he was soaring above the world. His heart was filled with an unspeakable happiness, and he looked at Danish with the most radiant smile. “Yes,” he said softly, his voice trembling with joy. Then, louder, “Yes! It’s like a dream—I’ve been waiting for this moment, and finally it’s here. I’m so happy I can’t even put it into words. But …” Joe moved closer, his hands reaching up to Danish’s face. With one hand, he slid to the back of Danish’s neck, pulling him gently closer. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, and then Joe closed the gap, pressing his lips to Danish in a kiss so tender and full of love it felt like the whole universe stood still to witness it. The warmth of their embrace, the softness of their kiss—it spoke of every unspoken feeling they had held back for so long.

Their moment was interrupted by the sound of jubilant cheering. Joe and Danish pulled back, their laughter mingling as they turned to find Jun, August, Daniel, Mark, and Dan—all of whom had been the masterminds of this magical day—clapping and cheering with delight. Joe’s face broke into laughter as he rested his forehead against Danish’s. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he said quietly, his voice filled with wonder. Danish smiled, his arms tightening around Joe in a gesture of love and promise. “It’s only the beginning,” he whispered.

Mark looked at Daniel, his heart racing in his chest as he talked with a soft smile, “I can’t do that kind of cheesy thing for you, but…” He then got down on one knee, looking up at Daniel with eyes full of nervous determination. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Will you be my caretaker in the future like you’ve been my caretaker when I was sick? Will you be the man in my life that will stay with me until death?”

Words hanging in mid-air, bare and vulnerable, Daniel gazed at Mark, completely caught off guard. The stillness was heavy with hidden emotion, and Mark found it too much to endure almost. His own belief began to shatter as he searched Daniel’s face for some reaction. His sharp eyes faltered, and fear slid through his chest. what if it was no? Mark could not maintain it any longer, so he closed his eyes hard, bracing himself. Finally, Daniel spoke, his voice gentle and with affection. “Yes,” he whispered, “I will take care of you until you grow up, my little child.” Mark’s eyes flew open in Suprise, and the pure joyousness that swept across his face was infectious. He leapt out of his place in sheer childlike enthusiasm, his happiness overrunning into shouts and laughter. All the onlookers around them clapped their hands, their voices merging into a sweet melodious chorale of congratulations for the couple. The feeling of love that filled the air was so tangible, a reminder that it has no limits.

In the midst of the lively celebrations, Dan just stood there with a wide grin, truly elated for his friends. But as he looked at Mark and Daniel, Joe and Danish, Jun and August couples lost in their moments of shared affection, a wave of playful self-awareness washed over him. He placed a hand dramatically on his chest and exclaimed with mock despair, “Ouch! I never thought I was single until today because of you couples. I feel I’m single!” His words rang out peals of laughter from the group, the light-hearted humor merging with the warm atmosphere. The café was transformed into a haven of love and happiness, with soft lights and the gentle tune of music in the background. As the café was reserved only for their celebration, the friends decided to celebrate the union of Joe and Danish by having a night of dancing and revelry.

When the music was filled in the air, they all swayed along with the beat, laughing and twirling among themselves, their spirits high with the collective festivity. Mark and Daniel exchanged sweet smiles while dancing, their movements reflecting the unspoken promise they had given to each other. Joe and Danish were stuck together, holding hands as they swayed to the beat, their love glimmering more brightly than before. Not even Dan, who had complained earlier in jest, could resist the cheer. He whirled around with abandon, a huge smile on his face as he reveled in the moment. The room glittered with a kind of magic, a testament to the loveliness of love in every shape and form, romantic, platonic, and the special bond they all shared as friends.

Dan loudly shouted, “My friends has fallen head over heels in love!” The room buzzed with joyous energy as everyone laughed. playful teasing from the group, turning the moment into a celebration of love and happiness. The night was filled with joy, music, and the warm light of being together. It was a celebration of love, yet of life itself, a memory which would be eternally stored in their hearts.

Happy Ending

“Celebration of Genderless love.”