Seoul, South Korea.



In Korea, Vernon became Hansol.

The first place they visited was Vernon’s grandmother in Ansan. Joshua had taken an immediate liking to her; just like Vernon she was affable and kind, and Joshua adored the way she painstakingly combed Vernon’s hair over and over, hopeful it would take some type of shape.

The first thing she made them was kalguksu with homemade noodles, because it was Vernon’s favorite dish. Vernon spoke fluently in Korean with her, with no pauses, and Joshua hadn’t realized until then how native he was, moreso than him, nailing the formality one is supposed to speak to elders with, the intonation of every sentence ebbing and flowing correctly.

Joshua was envious. And impressed.

“I used to come here every summer growing up. And winter breaks too if my mom was sick of Sofia and me.”

Every once in a while, Hansol would translate a sentence for Joshua, provide some context to their inside jokes and conversations and Joshua would sip his green tea appreciatively, content to be a fly on the wall here, almost in the countryside somewhere.



Afterwards, Vernon took him to all the popular tourist destinations in Seoul, the ones pinpointed as heritage sites on National Geographic, the others notable landmarks from all the Korean dramas Joshua had been forced to watch side by side next to his own mother growing up.

Somehow Vernon had stepped into the shoes of being the tour guide again, in replacement of Joshua back in Los Angeles. Joshua didn’t mind though. It felt right.

He appreciated the architecture of Gyeongbokgung Palace, and the sights of all the tourists dressed in hanboks by Bunchok Hanok village all the same.

It wasn’t until they got to Myeongdong that Joshua had started getting consumed in thoughts of making a move. They walked side by side down the crazy, overpopulated streets, shoulders occasionally bumping. In Joshua’s head it felt almost clandestine at times, but Vernon wasn’t ruffled at all.

Vernon made an offhand comment about some of the souvenir stalls, “Everything here is overpriced now, it’s so crazy,” but Joshua had taken a look at the price tags and done the conversion of wons to dollars in his head and everything screamed cheap to him, especially in comparison to New York and Los Angeles.

He didn’t dare to disagree though. He already felt so much like a gyopo there, like someone had branded it on his forehead in red lettering. He stuck close to Vernon’s side, sometimes pinching the sleeve of his shirt so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowds.

They tried kalgaksu at a rising hot spot in Jong-no, but Vernon made a face when he finished, contorting every muscle in his face. “My halmeoni’s is better.”

Joshua had suggested they grabbed dessert after, a palate cleanser.

“I’m trying to wean off coffee actually, Josh. How about gelato?”

The only commentary Joshua had after a few days in the big city was that everything was so ostentatiously sweet. Not in that bad of a way, but after having sweet pasta and sweet pizza and sweet ramyun, the taste of gelato had Joshua’s tongue feeling hairy and coarse, like the coffee they used to have at that pink café in New York City. Joshua made sure to avoid any flavor with nuts because of Vernon's allergies, settling on vanilla – and even that was too sweet.

Vernon had a penchant for sweets too, much like Joshua, but it was like he was reading Joshua’s mind after his fifth scoop, underside of his tongue laving around the strawberry flavored ice cream obscenely.

“I’m legal here. How about we go for a drink instead?”



Joshua didn’t know what to expect from Itaewon, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so lively. From his few visits of visiting his own harabeoji and halmeoni as a kid, Itaewon had never been a place they took him, and he was surprised at how it was a combination of rowdy foreigners and enthused locals. They blended in seamlessly, with their code switching from English and Korean walking down the streets with flashy lights and throbbing music, beats pulsing into the bottom of their sneakers.

Eventually, Vernon had pulled Joshua from his belt loops into a throng of people inside a bar-club type of situation and Joshua hadn’t recognized any of the songs playing. It was a playlist of girl group kpop songs – Joshua had never listened to much kpop back at home in the states.

“First round’s on me hyung.” Vernon shouted into Joshua’s ears. Vernon seldom called Joshua hyung and it tickled him for the wrong reason. He sort of hated hearing it, hated being reminded of their insignificant age gap, associating the term a bit too literal through the translation: older brother. It made the sordid thoughts he had about Vernon every once in a while feel inappropriately incestuous.

And when he saw Vernon emerge from the crowd, holding a shot glass for him with a toothy grin, he didn’t want to be associated with the word hyung at all.

Joshua took the shot. And then he ordered them another round. Apart from turning slightly flush on his cheeks, Vernon had little reaction to alcohol. It was hard to believe this was their first time drinking together.

Neither of them were dancers, but they were standing on the dance floor because the bar was too packed. Through the music, Vernon came closer, near Joshua ear again, instead this time whispering, “You look good today, hyung.”

Joshua hadn’t worn anything different. He’d been wearing a set of jeans and a plain white t-shirt that he had been repeating during the entire trip.

He’d been exceptionally slow to realize that the bar was missing a subset of another gender – it was full of men, similar to them.

“I thought of you before we got here. I’m always thinking of you, even when we’re miles apart Hansol.” Joshua confessed when Vernon announced he needed some fresh air, sick of the Prada cologne and musty boy sweat. The alley had a few couples out there who had snuck out too, for an evocative make out session, pushed against the walls, kissing and giggling.

Neither of them had stumbled outside, which was a good sign, but the tip of Joshua’s ears had turned red and everything inside him felt like it was on fire when he looked at Vernon. Vernon was watching him back attentively, listening.

He was good at that. It made Joshua want to bend down and get on his knees like he was at a church confessional, talking to a priest. Joshua touched his earring in the shape of a cross instinctively. He opened once more, unable to stop.

“I don’t know what they are called, the spaces between seconds – but I think of you always in those intervals.”

It felt like a long time coming when they finally kissed. Joshua had sort of always imagined that he’d be the one to kiss Vernon, but in the end it was Vernon who closed the gap between them, belly to belly, tilting his head to get the right angle for a kiss. Vernon was a good kisser, of course. His breath still tasted like whiskey and he laved the underside of Joshua’s tongue with his own, like he had done earlier with the gelato. Joshua pressed himself into the kiss, savoring it, relishing the feel of Vernon’s lips. Vernon kept parting Joshua’s lips with his own, wanting more, indelible, chasing.

When they eventually pulled away, Joshua looked around sheepishly. Kissing in Seoul felt so erotically forbidden and immoral. No one had taken notice, too involved with their own pursuits under the dim lights of the alley. Vernon still had his body pushed against Joshua’s from the waist down, jeans pressed against one another, and through the fabric Joshua could feel the slightest heat of Vernon’s want. Something tugged in Joshua’s guts.

Vernon looked at him, glassy eyes, lips swollen, fingers looped through Joshua’s belt loops once more.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while hyung, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Hyung had a different connation to it then, Joshua surmised. It felt less dirty this time, less incestuous. More leading. Joshua looked back at Vernon, taking in his otherworldly handsomeness in disbelief. It had taken them three cities across the planet to get to this point. Joshua couldn’t think of the words to say back to express his inner monologue and instead leaned in again to kiss Vernon chastely, not wanting the moment to end. He stole a page from Vernon’s book and kept his response sweet, short, and simple.

“Cool Hansol. Me too.”

When Vernon smiled back it was wide and gummy, devastatingly wholesome.