HOW TO MAINTAIN ILLUSIONS

HORE OG MADONNA ¹

Jeg bryr meg ikke,
(I don't care,)

men når du sier du elsker meg,
(but when you say you love me,)

tror jeg deg som folk tror på Gud.
(I believe you like people believe in God.)

Dearest Seonghwa,

It's Jongho. Remember me? It seems so long ago, doesn't it? I wonder if you think of me. I think of you all the time, though I wish I wouldn't.

I first met you in the autumn of my freshman year of college. It's ironic, really, considering how you made fall. You were exactly the type of boy I would fall for, too; Tall, handsome, smart, and deadly. I didn't know it then, of course, but I should have suspected.

I was nineteen, barely legal, and young. You had just turned twenty-three, older, and my hyung. I was supposed to be able to trust you. You promised to take care of me, to protect me.

It was a Tuesday, late, dark, and stormy. I should've taken the bad weather as a warning. I didn't think of it, of course. I didn't think of anything back then. I was fresh out of high school with nothing to lose and everything to prove.

I was staying over at Hongjoong's apartment. I had no classes that day, so I made myself at home. Hongjoong-hyung was supposed to be helping me with homework but hadn't shown up yet.

Jongho hears the apartment door open and clicks shut.

"Hongjoong-hyung, have you seen my calculus book?" He calls out. "I couldn't find mine. Seungmin sent me a picture of the pages, so it's fine for now. But I still have to find it."

When the only answer he receives is silence, Jongho calls out again, louder, "hyung?"

No answer this time either.

"I swear to god, I will cut off your fringe," Jongho mutters, throwing off the blanket he'd wrapped around himself and padding into the living room.

"I've been waiting—! all... day..."

Jongho stops dead in his tracks when he sees him.

I still remember what I wore, do you? It was so embarrassing. I wore a ketchup-stained hoodie, and Toy Story 'Little Green Men' underwear. I had mismatching socks, too, and the cord of my headset tangled around my right arm. In my left hand, I clutched a Nintendo Switch covered in Winx stickers.

I still had my braces back then, and Hongjoong-hyung said it made me look like a thirteen-year-old. It made me feel like one too, but you never viewed me as a kid, and called me 'handsome' whenever I smiled. I always liked it when you did that. It made me feel more mature, more like an adult, more like you.

There is a boy standing in the foyer, dripping wet from the shower of rain outside, sporting an unreadable expression.

A crease appears in Jongho's forehead.

"You're not Hongjoong-hyung," Jongho says dumbly, a tad bit embarrassed. He makes no move to say anything more.

"No, I'm not. I'm Seonghwa. Who are you?"

You had black hair, cut right beneath your chin, but pulled back in a messy ponytail. Bronze eyes, in the form of dark shards of amber, glittered like torches in your eyes, sat above angular cheekbones that seemed to cut me right to the bone.