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The contact with the paper makes him tremble with frenetic wonder. It is not the first letter he has received, and yet, even after months, the astonishment does not cease to flush his cheeks and make him wish to be somewhere else, to not need the paper. He gently strokes the signature at the bottom of the sheet with trembling and cautious fingers.
There are delicate lines resting on the paper, embellishing its appearance: traced with a quiet confidence, they seem to have their own voice, uttering warm and welcoming syllables. The entire text, like all the others already read and stubbornly imprinted in his memory, instills warmth and comfort; however, the tips of nostalgia, scattered here and there and not always immediately recognizable, remind him of what the reality is, and an invasive sadness occupies his heart and mind.
After reading what is written on it, he brings the letter to his chest and embraces it as if he was embracing its author. “Just a little longer,” he says to himself, trying to hold back the tears. Soon, he has made a promise, he will travel through the territories of the empire in his company, the light of many shared sunsets gilding their bodies and thoughts.
My beloved,
the city where I am now reminds me of the purity of your heart. It welcomed me in its arms which were eager for knowledge, and it caresses me every day with its calm and regal light. I feel its warmth in the bustle of life flowing along its streets, in the smiles of its children, even in the silences it grants me when, at sunset, I distance myself from the crowds and follow the setting sun, hoping that you, in your garden, are doing the same.
I entrust to the wind every word I wish to whisper in your ear. If the breeze tickles your skin, in this lazy spring air, please, welcome it as you welcomed my voice: it carries my thoughts, the longing I feel to have you by my side, the absence that stirs my heart. If it reaches you, let it take the place of my touch. I will do the same.
I have drawn a portrait of you, imagining you amidst the beauty of this place, and I carry it with me wherever I go. Just like all the others, it lacks your warmth and the blissful serenity that emanates from you and that dispels every worry from my soul, but having it near comforts me. It reminds me that, among all the wonders I have seen and will continue to recount, there is one I prefer not to reveal: the memory I have of you, of our summer spent in the rosy light of countless sunsets.
I have spent yet another sunset without you. My nights are restless with an uncontrollable frenzy that makes it impossible for me to forget that our new encounter is imminent. I await the summer solstice to see your face, redolent with love, and to hold you in an embrace capable of calming every weariness.
Until then, I will continue to seek you in the sun that fades behind the horizon in a punctual sunset.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
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Their paths crossed for the first time under the light of a sunset in June.
The air struggled to cool, heated by a particularly hot sun that was reluctant to set. The garden offered some comfort with its shadows, but Taehyung was forced to leave it: the emperor had requested his presence inside the palace. He was told that a guest was expected.
A traveler from afar had arrived in the capital, telling stories of astonishing beauties. He had traveled for a long time through the territories of the empire, gathering stories that he shared gladly with anyone who cared to listen.
Taehyung did not immediately understand his father’s frenzy, who had gathered even his other sons and his most trusted advisers in the throne room. Excitement and anticipation hung in the air. But Taehyung still did not understand.
After a few minutes, a young man just over twenty years old made his entrance. He moved with agility and with a shyness that he tried to conceal behind the folds of a tentative yet assured smile. His clothes, dark in color, seemed excessive for the heat of the season and – Taehyung thought – not suitable for such royal features.
In front of the emperor, he bowed and introduced himself as Min Yoongi. When asked where he came from, where his home was, he replied that his home was the road that he had traveled and would continue to travel.
He spoke with a confident and steady voice, remaining bowed and without lifting his gaze. Then the emperor invited him to follow him and everyone else to the garden, because he wanted him to tell some of his stories. And just after listening to his voice, Taehyung finally understood.
Min Yoongi was an artist with his voice. He told stories of dusty roads, of majestic fountains, of bright colors and joyful bodies. His voice, airy and welcoming, embraced every word, molded around them and assumed their shape, becoming an essential and generous component of them. It was not possible to listen to him and not be shaken by his ability to paint with his voice alone pictures of spontaneous perfection. It was like being inside his gaze and observing the world under a light so harmonious that it made everything vibrate.
The sun delayed its setting to continue being part of the audience that could enjoy a wonder that had already been granted to others. The last rays, stubborn, caressed the face of the young man and made him ethereal.
A sight that made Taehyung tremble.
It was him, after that sunset, who convinced the emperor to host Min Yoongi in the palace for the entire summer season.
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My beloved,
this spring has blossomed behind a veil of rosy shyness that reminds me of the hesitation of the first steps I took towards your heart. I hesitated, too, certain that I was not in a position to make silent demands or hinted hopes. Your daily company, then, was a lot more than I dared to dream of.
I have been in this new city for a day, I have not had the time to explore it in every corner to tell you about it through my eyes yet. However, I have already learned its more important peculiarity.
Among the cherry blossoms, still cautious and yet already beautiful, not a sound but the melody of nature is heard. There are no human voices beating the hours of the day; the gracious atmosphere of this city is populated by a light and still slightly crisp breeze and by a majestic silence that caress my thoughts and clear them. Since I got here, I feel less distressed than before. Thanks to this quietude, even the distance from you seems less tedious.
I met many citizens. They revealed to me the charm of their home through shiny whispers and eyes that are capable of singing. They all seem happy. It is because they live so close to the beauty of nature, they told me. They live in a ceaseless silence that allows them to intimately connect to what matters the most.
There is no sadness. Only a blissful peace that I wish you could feel on your skin and around your heart. When our promises and our wishes become true, I wish for the beauty of at least one sunset to catch us happy under the shade of a blossoming cherry tree. If I have the honor of living this moment, I can consider myself the luckiest and happiest of men.
Until then, I will continue to remember in my dreams the softness of your touches, and to draw, with my hands and my mind, your figure in front of every spectacle that I will lay my eyes upon, each of them pale and faded if compared to you.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
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They remained alone for the first time a few days after their first encounter. The emperor had asked Min Yoongi to continue to tell his tales for the entire afternoon, in the garden, under the watchful eye of a vibrant and vivid vegetation. Taehyung had participated in the meeting, too, as he always did.
That afternoon, the tale had been about one of the first cities he had visited since he had started his journey. It had a woman’s name that Taehyung was sure he had never heard or seen on maps before, and it stretched over a long territory surrounded by high walls and an incessant music. Min Yoongi had reached it by chance, as he always did, and his stay had been brief. There, he had made friends with some children and had spent the most part of his stay with them: they had been the fondest memory, he had said.
At sunset, he smiled as the emperor returned to the palace after praising him and, with a voice tired after talking for so long, he whispered a grateful goodbye. Then, he sat down on the grass and allowed his smile to grow.
Taehyung lingered to look at him in silence, fascinated by his distractedly gracious movements and eager to hear his voice again. It did not matter, to him, if it was to talk about another city or to complain about the excessive heat: he had just felt, at the pit of his stomach, a warmth spreading and asking him to stay and let the other speak. And he had obeyed.
Taehyung approached him gracefully and soon he realized that the other had not noticed him, as occupied as he was smiling to himself and fiddling with his fingers. There, with the rosy hues of the sky, he was disruptively beautiful. Taehyung had to stop and take in the violent blow of that realization. He recovered after some moments and, confident, started to walk again.
“You are good at telling stories,” he said to draw the other’s attention, who immediately stood up and bowed. “Everyone enjoys listening to you.”
Min Yoongi’s surprised sound did not go unnoticed, a tremor had shaken his entire body and caught Taehyung’s eyes, who was at once amused and touched by that reaction.
“Thank you”, Min Yoongi replied without lifting his gaze.
“I enjoy it, too. Would you mind telling me more stories?”
At that point, the other straightened his posture and took an expression of tender wonder that seemed to have dazed him. He nodded, then, and followed Taehyung to his favorite corner of the garden, a space almost at the end of its borders and adorned with bright and odorous flowers. In that spot, several years before, Taehyung had lived those that he considered the most beautiful moments of his life.
“Let’s settle here,” Taehyung said. Then, when Min Yoongi asked what he had wanted to hear, he replied, “Tell me about the city that made you the happiest.”
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Since then, their meetings became a daily occurrence.
Every evening, once the moments dedicated to entertaining the emperor ended, Min Yoongi would indulge Taehyung’s relentless desire, which, never tired of his voice and his tales, would offer him new sparks.
Taehyung would attend every tale and strive to imprint every shade of the unusual guest’s voice in his memory; at night, surrounded by the silence of his chambers, he would mentally retrace them and realize he had missed some, too enchanted to truly pay attention.
It was always at sunset that they spent their moments of conversation, outside the palace, in the coolest areas of the vast garden. No one, not even a guard, would witness their meetings.
Taehyung would ask to hear about the most peculiar aspects of every city Min Yoongi had explored, and as he looked at him, he would feel eager, as if suffocated by a desire for closeness that would only be understood with time.
Min Yoongi was happy to obey. In the inexhaustible tales he caressed with his voice, there always was something curious and unusual that made Taehyung laugh genuinely, small and casually mentioned details, or grand elements, intertwined with the very structure of the land they were part of.
Once it was a city built backwards, then the huge spider webs stretching among tall branches and filtering a pale and intimidated light; another time it was the city in which no one had their own home because it was impossible not to get lost among the endless paths and streets, and then it was the very curious city whose inhabitants had no name.
During their initial conversations, Taehyung was so incredulous that he asked for explanations.
“What are these cities? Where are they?”
“Scattered across the territories of the empire, forgotten even by the most careful merchants and cartographers,” Min Yoongi replied, so calm and confident that Taehyung’s reluctance paled. “The memory of them is entrusted only to my voice, my eyes and my hands.”
He did not give Taehyung time to reply: with quick fingers, he started gesturing and continued to recount unknown peculiarities.
Since then, Taehyung never shared his doubts anymore, he recognized and accepted his privilege: he could converse with a young man who was able to paint wonders with his voice, a skill he would have never believed possible before that summer.
The cities Min Yoongi described to him always had women's names. Taehyung never understood the reason, but at some point he stopped asking himself questions and decided to let himself be enveloped by the charm of the words. After all, his was not a desire for knowledge.
During the first few weeks, their conversations never ventured into more intimate territory. Taehyung and Min Yoongi seemed engaged in a shy and hesitant game, played on tiptoes, at a distance. There were only continuous, endless tales, and as much as Taehyung felt in his chest an unusual warmth and a need that had still no name and did not cease even after hours of listening to Min Yoongi’s voice, he did not ask himself questions. He would walk towards his favorite spot of the gardens and there he would wait for the other, who would always join him after a short time, his face flushed.
Taehyung had assured him that there was no need to hurry: he did not mind waiting a little longer surrounded by his happiest memories. Min Yoongi, however, had shaken his head with decisive strokes and, without voicing an answer he sure had thought, had disappeared behind the embarrassed blush on his face.
There was a small fountain in that part of the garden. It was the most delicate one, built less than twenty years before to mark Taehyung’s birth. It had been his mother’s wish, she had commissioned it to the most skilled sculptor of the empire: she had asked for it to be graceful and elegant, reminiscent of the purity of a life not yet born but already dedicated to kindness.
There, during the playful and carefree days of his childhood, Taehyung had taken his first steps and uttered his first words, under the attentive and loving eye of his mother, who had devoted most of her time to his upbringing.
His mother had been, and still was, his best companion, his most trusted confidant. And yet, despite everything, he did not allow her to take part in his meetings with Min Yoongi. He sensed something, in that still uncertain and fragile bond that he wished not to share with anyone, that told him those moments were his and the other’s only.
There was still nothing but a clumsy cordiality, but he did not want to compromise such a delicate balance for anything in the world. He liked their cautious blooming, their prudent moves: it was laden with expectations and promises that they both still ignored.
It was in front of that fountain that Min Yoongi, now familiar with the surrounding environment and perhaps for that reason more confident, ventured a question different from the usual ones he posed.
“Have you ever been outside the capital?” he asked, “In any other territory of the empire?”
Taehyung had not traveled. His growth had taken place within the walls of the imperial palace, always surrounded by the same sky and the weight of responsibility. He was not the heir to the throne, but his upbringing had not differed from the one of his older brother. He had not been allowed to move freely, he did not even know the capital well outside the walls enclosing the palace in a bubble of seriousness. His first window to the world had been his mother’s voice, softening his nights with tales of fantastic and distant lands.
Listening to these words, Min Yoongi responded with a disoriented and amusing expression that made Taehyung laugh uncontrollably and loudly. Then, after calming down, he drew closer to him and with sincere gratitude confessed that he had never met a funnier person.
After some time, the sky already darkened and the sun disappeared to make way for a darkness lightened only by a feeble moonlight, the blush on Min Yoongi’s face was still visible.
Before letting him go, Taehyung spoke one last time.
“A new window to the world. I wish for it to be you.”
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My beloved,
I must confess that, since the day we parted, I have drawn several drawings of your face. Not a day passes that I do not see myself bent over a sheet of paper, concentrated and careful on transposing your beauty from my memory to an instrument that allows me to behold it. Yet, they all seem to lack something: among the strokes, although precise, I fail to capture the kindness of your eyes and the unique way they caress me and make me feel like a sight worthy of attention. The lines I draw seem incapable to recreate your most inner being, they pale when compared to the vivid and tender memories etched in my mind and in my heart.
It is not possible for me to stop, though. Although lacking, these drawings are all I have to physically reconnect with you in some way.
I drew the last one right before starting to write this letter. I drew you laughing loudly with your back to your fountain and dressed in light clothes that aspire to share in your regality.
I concentrated my attention on rendering your face. Looking at it, my heart feels lighter.
Your eyes disappear behind your cheekbones, which are lifted and full of an overwhelming amusement: they are crescents that illuminate the entire sheet, bright even though hidden, and they crinkle and soften your face at the same time. At their corners, a few small wrinkles can be seen, while your nose, always gracious and serene, widens into a space with blurred contours. It is as amused as your mouth, open in a laughter that shakes your entire being and is embraced by elegant lips. The details of your moles, scattered like tiny stars across the sky that is your face, are easily discernible.
I can hear the melody of your amusement, I perceive it vividly in my memories. I like to believe it is directed to me, an expression of the serenity you felt in my company and that you made known to me multiple times. I would be happy to hear it once again, and forever.
After completing the drawing, the urge to have a conversation with you was so intense that I immediately devoted myself to this letter.
I have not reached my new destination yet, it will still take a day’s walk. Therefore, among these lines, you will not read any tale, only my obsessive and deep longing. I hope it does not bother you, it just has to remind you that I have learned that every beauty of the world is worth seeing only if I have you by my side.
I have been fortunate enough to know that, one day soon, I will fulfill this hope as well. Until then, I can do nothing but cheer myself with the memory of you and with my feeling that is more determined with every passing day.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
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Min Yoongi liked receiving gifts. Taehyung learned this when, with his happy eyes, the other told him about the presents he had been given by the family that had hosted him in one of his countless cities.
The potential city, he called it, the city that was constantly being built. A never-ending yard, stretched over a strip of land kissed by the sea. He had visited it in spring, and he spoke dreamily about its constant sun, about its flowers always about to bloom and about its music, a harmony created by the breeze and the chatter of its inhabitants, who were always joyous and worked keeping in their mind their only goal: the idea of the city.
Taehyung was particularly fascinated by the story and wanted to know whether Min Yoongi had been able to see the final result.
“Every night,” the traveler said before smiling happily and tenderly whispering the kindness of a local family. During the last hours of his stay, the daughter of a woman and a man particularly involved in the construction of the city had taken his hand and led him to a spot not far from her home. There, her cheerful and chubby hands had extended several sheets of paper and a charcoal pencil. That had been the best present he had ever received, he had confessed.
It was then that Taehyung learned about his companion’s other great passion: Min Yoongi was an extremely skilled artist. He drew and recounted tales with the same grace. Taehyung asked to see some of his drawings, and the other, shyly, hurried towards the palace to choose some of his works and bring them to the garden.
The paper sheets were touched by skilled and gracious strokes. Among the colorless lines of flowers withered or not yet bloomed or in the beauty of their full bloom, of streets empty or animated by passengers, of constructions barely outlined or already completed, there was a particular and deferential attention. Every detail was treated with the utmost care.
Taehyung managed to recognize several things Min Yoongi had told him about, and he felt like he was walking among them. He clearly saw the soldier from a city in turmoil petting a stray cat, kids playing and singing unknown rhymes, tired-looking women tying their wishes to the stars in a great sky. A young man with a scar on his face colliding with two merchants who end up fighting with each other in the midst of a crowded market. An elegant boy in a field of wildflowers, and someone dancing to an unknown music, and someone else taking soft steps in the snow. It was easy to recognize the city whose inhabitants had no names: their impersonal faces revealed the truth.
He recognized the wonder of Min Yoongi’s eyes, his effort to genuinely convey an almost childlike amazement. And he was bewitched.
When he raised his eyes, Min Yoongi was looking elsewhere. He placed a hand on his, then, to draw his attention, and smiling sincerely he said, “They are beautiful.”
Min Yoongi widened his eyes and blushed furiously. He was staring at their hands, at the contrast between them, speechless.
At that point, Taehyung withdrew his touch, intimidated and yet filled with an unusual sensation of fulfillment and dissatisfaction at once. He remained silent for several moments. Then, shaking off the embarrassment of that moment that seemed endless to him, he repeated his compliment, making sure the other understood his sincerity.
Min Yoongi thanked him, keeping his eyes lowered, his face still red. Then he asked to be excused and slowly headed towards the palace.
Taehyung remained in the garden for a long time afterward, alone with his thoughts. His mind returned quickly to the touch of their hands and got him lost in that memory. Thanks to his memories, he realized in that moment how pleasant that contact had been. His hand, long and delicate, had rested on Min Yoongi’s fatigued one, had covered a part of it, and had felt its warmth. It had been brief, and yet it had lasted enough to make new needs rise in Taehyung’s heart, needs he had never considered before.
The furious race his heart had run that night, he would never forget it.
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Since then, their encounters became more intimate, slowly at first, then ever more rapidly. There were timid and delicate touches, cautious and vague smiles, prudent and hesitant glances. Although they always saw each other when no one else was around, Taehyung felt the need to proceed cautiously, as if to protect something that was still uncertain, afraid of letting an excessive sun hit a flower unaccustomed to too much light.
Min Yoongi continued to recount the wonders he had seen in his travels, and Taehyung continued to listen to him, eager to make every color of the other’s voice his own. Over time, however, he understood that it was not only his voice that he wanted to imprint on his heart’s memory. It was Min Yoongi in his entirety who was a source of incessant wonder.
He soon learned that a curious child lived within him, and he looked at the world with a continuous and contagious amazement and considered a miracle even the different colors he laid his eyes on. His voice smiled while walking down the memory lanes, and every other part of his body seemed to participate with clear emotion in the stories it uttered: his long and delicate fingers would tickle the air to trace indistinct yet crystal-clear lines, expressing an untamed passion eager to flow along the most diverse channels; his entire figure just could not remain still, particularly involved in the moments his voice would recount and eager to demonstrate, through frenetic and yet harmonious movements, that he had witnessed unforgettable beauties.
Min Yoongi, Taehyung learned, recounted with his whole self.
However, amidst the words he offered to Taehyung, there seemed to be no room for those intended for their newfound intimacy. Min Yoongi would get shy after every gesture that was different from the initial courtesy, would lower his eyes and would stumble over the things to say. Taehyung found him endearing and promised himself that he would do more to reassure him and make him understand in which direction he wanted them to move.
It took quite some time. Min Yoongi seemed so scared that Taehyung would have stopped had it not been for the clearly visible blush on the other’s face and the small traces of serenity darting in his eyes. In those moments, Taehyung was dominated by a contradiction that he was unable to ignore and wanted to eliminate altogether. He persisted, guided by the quick rhythm of his heart, speaking about it to no one. The warm agitation he felt when he was near Min Yoongi or he was simply thinking about him was a secret he was willing to share with the other only, at the right time.
The first steps Min Yoongi took towards Taehyung were uncertain. He kept his gaze fixed on Taehyung’s a little longer, he moved closer to him during their encounters; then, when summer was halfway gone, he was the one to elicit a willful contact.
The sun had already almost disappeared when, one day, Taehyung rose to return to the palace and retire to his chambers. Min Yoongi grabbed his hand, and his face was strongly flushed when he asked him, “Is there something you would like me to draw for you?”
Taehyung remained silent for a while. He felt a pleasant warmth flood his face and stomach and brought his eyes to their joined hands. He had never been as happy as in that precise moment.
As he watched Min Yoongi’s thumb move delicately on the back of his hand, he hoped to be able to stop time and live in that warmth forever. His voice was calm as he answered, “Draw the most beautiful view your eyes have ever rested upon.”
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My beloved,
the last few days have been among the most painful I have ever endured. During this particular time of the year, I always feel a stabbing pain of a sorrow I can not relieve; the anguish, this time, has been greater.
To the unhappy anniversary that I told you about, I must add the distance that is keeping me so far from you and from your smile. I wished to return to the capital and see you again in order to soothe the crying of my heart, to alleviate this eternal suffering with your presence which is the sweetest of balms. I longed for it, but fate has taken me elsewhere, in the city of desires.
I am sure I have already told you about this city. It is one of the first that I recount, so salvific in its essence. You should know that it is where I was born.
Well, I have arrived here while making steps that I thought would bring me to you. Unintentionally. And yet, clearly, it was not unintentional: one only arrives here when their heart asks for it.
I wish you could see this city, too. I know I said that my home is the road I traveled and will continue to travel, but there is something here, a comforting warmth that cradles me and silences my every worry, even if only for a little while. This was my first home, the most welcoming of all the ones I have had.
Nothing has changed since the last time I was here. Its sky is still the most beautiful upon which a man has laid his eyes. It overflows with stars. Among the countless bright little dots, I can still recognize those to which my desires are clinging: I see them very close as I write this letter for you, bright and partly fulfilled.
I entrusted to a star a new wish tonight. I wish you could be with me when I come back here, I wish you could see with your own eyes the immense and bright expanse that is there for anyone who has in their heart a request they would like to see fulfilled. I wish you could reflect in the safe and reliable light of these stars, I wish you could ask them to look after what your heart craves. I wish you were by my side while wonder envelopes you, to watch you being surrounded by the only beauty that is perhaps able to stand comparison with you.
I wish for my desire to come true so that your requests may be satisfied.
I know it will happen one day. My stars have never let me down.
Until then, I will wait for you as I have waited for spring after every long winter.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
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One afternoon, something unusual happened.
Min Yoongi did not entertain the emperor by recounting one of his stories. Taehyung waited for some time before asking a guard for an explanation and discovering that the traveler had requested a day for himself. No one had seen him leave the palace, but he had not been seen inside the walls either.
Confused, Taehyung decided to spend the last hours of that afternoon in the palace gardens anyway. He spent a long time thinking and looking at the sky, which was clear and tranquil. He wondered where Min Yoongi had gone – perhaps he was wandering the streets of the capital, searching for new wonders to tell about; upon his return, he would recount everything to Taehyung with his usual magic, and Taehyung would be able to visit another part of the world without moving an inch, thanks to that enchanting voice that he wanted to hear forever. Or, Taehyung supposed, perhaps Min Yoongi had not entertained the emperor because he felt ill. The thought worried him, and he wondered whether he should check on the traveler’s health. If needed, he could help him.
The sunset caught him not far from his fountain, worried and hesitant. He looked around as the sun disappeared giving way to a rosy light. He felt an unusual emptiness in the pit of his stomach and a strange energy contorting his face into an expression of deep sadness. He failed to understand why, and with his head down, he took a few steps towards the palace.
Min Yoongi appeared then, breath agitated and face distraught. Taehyung observed his red eyes and flushed cheeks in surprised silence for some time. He began to worry again, and only after actually hearing his thoughts race did he open his mouth to speak.
Min Yoongi stopped him, though. Taking a deep breath, he extended his right arm, and only then Taehyung noticed he was holding a rolled-up piece of paper.
He stared at him, lost in confusion, and for some moments he could not move, too surprised by the sight before him. “You asked me for it,” Min Yoongi said in a broken voice. “The most beautiful view my eyes have ever rested upon.”
The memory of his request brought him back to the present, and then, still without saying a word, he unrolled the paper and looked.
A man and a woman occupied the center of the sheet. They were looking at each other and smiling with a joy so palpable that Taehyung impossibly thought he could hear it. There was no landscape around them, no sky, nothing that hinted at the identity of those figures. Their happiness was the absolute protagonist of the drawing: nothing else was important enough to take up space.
Taehyung felt like he was witnessing that happiness, like he was being part of it. “Who are they?” he asked.
“My mother and my father.”
Min Yoongi’s parents had met while traveling, many years before. They had not waited too long to get married: they both liked to think they had found each other at the perfect moment and did not need time to decide they wanted to intertwine their lives forever. They had gotten married and immediately had resumed their journey, together, hand in hand.
Min Yoongi had been born during an unexpected but wanted stop, becoming the third part of a whole meant to witness wonder. Traveling had soon become his main occupation, adorned with happy moments and a company so significant that it had become the exact center of his existence.
The paths walked with his parents had represented, for Min Yoongi, the most beautiful parts of the world to live in. They were animated with a special vitality, originating, according to Min Yoongi, from his mother’s crystalline laughter and the endeared smiles his father gave her; love and wonder tinged everything around them.
When he was twelve years old, Min Yoongi thought he could never be happier.
However, things had changed so quickly he had not even had time to realize it. The winter after his twelfth birthday, an accident ended his parent’s journey forever. The two greatest parts of the whole had been forcibly taken away together and dispersed in the sky, among the stars that, from then on, would have illuminated the path of a boy alone.
Many times Min Yoongi had cried while looking at the starry sky and wished to reunite with those missing parts of a heart divided into three bodies. He had thought of stopping his travels, returning to the city where he was born, and settling there, surrounded by his unchanged desires. But soon he had realized that was not possible: his existence was intimately tied to traveling, he could have never stopped what his parents had started. He had resumed his journey, then, and had begun to draw.
His first attempts had been imperfect and had not satisfied him, but they had always depicted details of his parents, and he had continued to carry them with him for comfort and to avoid complete solitude. Over time, feeling the need not to forget, his drawings had become more accurate and detailed, so close to reality that Min Yoongi had felt the weight on his heart lighten day by day.
The absence would have never left him, but he had learned to live with it.
At the end of his story, his eyes teary and his voice watery, Min Yoongi looked at Taehyung in a vulnerable and fearful way. Taehyung did not hesitate: he moved towards him and, without saying a word, wrapped his small, trembling frame with his arms.
The sun, already set and forgotten, gave way to countless stars, the only witnesses to the fragility and importance of the moment.
After that evening, nothing was ever the same.
Min Yoongi became less shy.
During the moments spent telling stories to the emperor, he would often seek out Taehyung and give him looks filled with a feeling that Taehyung was afraid to question. At sunset, away from any prying crowds, those looks took on stronger, more confident shades.
In those moments, Taehyung’s heart would beat wildly, and a warm, happy excitement would stir in his stomach, filling him with absolute serenity. All around, nature would take on a new freshness, his thoughts would clear, and each sunset would become more beautiful.
Taehyung was sure: he could say he was in love.
The awareness of that vast and still unfamiliar feeling embraced him in the ordinariness of a random moment. Suddenly, while listening to Min Yoongi describe one of his countless cities and watching his face light up with memories, Taehyung felt enveloped by a new and reassuring warmth. A feeling so delicate that it spread quiet all around dimmed his mind, and every part of his body suddenly felt caressed by an unusual breeze. His heart seemed to have burst into a laugh of absolute and indelible happiness.
Alone, he basked in that sensation, and only after quite some time he allowed his worried thoughts to bring him back to reality. Min Yoongi had never explicitly expressed his feelings, yet his gestures had to mean something.
Taehyung knew that talking to his mother would help him gain clarity and make a decision; however, since he met Min Yoongi, he had discovered he was greedy: the idea of anyone else having access, even through him, to the side of himself that the traveler revealed to him unsettled him with an unpleasant jealousy. He wanted to keep everything related to the other to himself: his funny expressions, his contagious excitement, his enchanting voice.
For several days, Taehyung did nothing but continue to watch the spectacle that Min Yoongi was, unable to take a single step in any direction. Then, after spending two whole nights thinking and not resting for a moment, he told himself that summer would end soon, that Min Yoongi would resume his journey to discover new lands, that time would not stop just because he had fallen in love.
Since his feelings were clear and his need to have the other close was loud, he began to express himself more clearly, in order to make Min Yoongi understand that the silent game at the beginning had now become something else. Trying to put aside any worries and uncertainties, he allowed his body to express itself more freely, to seek contact with the other’s body, and allowed the words that wandered through his thoughts to be heard by other ears, to find space in that new and fragile intimacy that was beginning to take shape.
And Min Yoongi seemed happy to welcome any step Taehyung took towards his direction.
However, something prevented Taehyung from reaching full happiness. Although Min Yoongi’s gazes became less awkward and shy day by day, there was nothing else, for his part, that suggested a willingness to meet halfway. Fear worried Taehyung immediately after their meetings, and throughout the night, until the next sunset, when the traveler’s eyes would caress his figure again and make him feel like one of the cities he described.
The hours that separated them were, for Taehyung, the most painful and uncertain thing he had ever experienced.
He often wondered how much longer that state of fearful insecurity would continue, and he fretted thinking that time would pass, ignoring his needs and his greatest desires.
Those were the thoughts troubling his mind when, one morning, he decided to spend a few hours among the beauties of the garden. He was tired of thinking and wandering as if blindfolded along an uncertain path, so he forced himself to have some time without thinking about Min Yoongi.
He headed towards the northern end of the garden, and there he found the strength to meditate and focus only on his breaths, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, the sun was about to reach its highest point. He then started to walk towards the palace, but something caught his attention.
Min Yoongi’s figure was moving quickly through the vegetation, taking small but quick steps. He was looking straight ahead, ignoring his surroundings.
Taehyung smiled, taking a hand to his chest, right where his happily beating heart was. Just the sight of that minute and delicate figure was enough to disturb the balance he had reached with such effort, spreading a particular warmth in his chest and granting him moments of happiness.
He wanted to call his name, join him and walk by his side, but he did not have the time: Min Yoongi had disappeared while Taehyung was trying to calm himself. He found him again only minutes later, in front of the fountain that served as the backdrop of their meetings. Impossibly cautious, he was placing something on the marble edges, something that Taehyung, from several steps away, could not recognize. Then, after looking around without noticing Taehyung, he rushed off towards the palace.
Taehyung approached the fountain curiously, and once his gaze fell on what Min Yoongi had left, his breath caught in his throat. There, on the light marble of a structure built for him, was a small bouquet of flowers and a portrait beneath it. It was him: wrapped in a graceful and yet evident regal air, he was smiling in front of the sky, immense and nearing dusk.
At the bottom of the sheet, Min Yoongi had left a message: “ After a long journey, I am finally home. ”
Sobbing because of an emotion he just could not hold back, Taehyung understood: full happiness was no longer so far away.
_____________________________
My beloved,
I have spent enough time in this city to know exactly where to go as I stroll through its streets. Perhaps it is time to bid farewell and resume my journey.
It has been raining for days, and a gray air envelops every corner of this land, keeping it in a constant gloom. It is a beating and incessant rain: it marks every moment of my longing and reminds me of how distant the moment I will be able to see you again is.
I have not witnessed the magic of any sunset since I have been here: the last days of this autumn are like an endless night, dragging desolately towards a dawn that refuses to break.
I have dreamed of you, recently. You were happy within the walls of your chambers, smiling with a happiness directed entirely to me, and I was watching you, moved and overflowing with love. I remember vividly the moment it happened: it was the first time you invited me to spend the night with you, shy and excited. You kissed me until I was breathless, and using the same care that is reserved for the most fragile beauties, you caressed every part of my body and gave them new life.
That night, the moon and the stars bore your face.
It was then that I asked you to follow me, my judgment clouded by the peak of the most ecstatic happiness a man has ever known. As you promised me you would, your eyes shone with sincere feeling, reflecting the same wonder that, I am certain, lived in mine, too.
I miss you dearly. And I miss your hands, soft and delicate. The ghost of their touch keeps me company every night and lulls me towards a peaceful sleep that is not content. My skin longs to touch yours again, trembles at the mere thought, and does not give me peace. When the moment arrives, I know it will be like grasping the entire sky in my fist.
Until then, I will pretend that the air that teases my skin is your mouth, that the raindrops that do not give me peace are your kisses. Everything will be more bearable this way.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
____________________________
Min Yoongi liked physical touches. Taehyung discovered this the day after finding the flowers and the portrait.
That afternoon, Min Yoongi had missed the appointment with the emperor and Kim Taehyung, seeming to have disappeared.
Taehyung had pretended to be calm even though he was not. Now that everything was clear, now that every uncertainty had been silenced, he wanted nothing more than to see Min Yoongi, to look into his eyes and to let his heart speak, revealing the sweetest words of love, which were dedicated to him alone, and to caress his fair skin, feeling it under his fingers once again.
He had to wait until the next sunset.
Min Yoongi had been excused from his daily duty due to urgent matters that required the emperor’s attention. Nevertheless, Taehyung found him standing not far from his fountain, a clouded look on his face.
He observed him for a moment, happy and excited, refusing to believe his luck. Then he quickly approached him and took his hand, ready to speak sincerely.
“Your Highness…”
He did not give him any more time: with his eyes wide open because of an uncontrollable joy, Taehyung gave voice to every sweet thought, unafraid, content, at peace.
Min Yoongi had become essential to him. It was his voice that marked his days and gave them a special value they would have never had otherwise. His colorful excitement, always new, adorned every fragment of thought wandering curiously in Taehyung’s mind, and offered a new essence to every reflection. Everything, for Taehyung, had Min Yoongi’s name.
“I saw your portrait,” he said. His thumb was caressing cautiously the back of Min Yoongi’s hand, who was fiercely blushing and persisted in keeping his gaze down. “I did not know,” Taehyung continued, “that a man could create such art.”
Min Yoongi’s breath caught at those words, and he finally lifted his eyes to look at Taehyung’s face. They were hesitant, fearful, and yet illuminated by a faint flame that was struggling to stay alive. Taehyung felt he was on the right path.
“I watched it for two whole nights, incredulous. I was amazed by the happiness on that face, which I recognized as my own, and I understood that, if someone was able to capture it, then it truly existed. It truly exists , and I feel it every day, under the rays of a setting sun. I feel that happiness while listening to the stories of cities I have been able to visit thanks to an enchanting voice, while seeing with my own eyes the wonder that is ready to be felt by the same person who is able to generate it. It is a happiness I have learned to welcome inside my heart during this summer, while witnessing your art. If my face was so overflowing with happiness that it stayed in your memory and led you to draw it, then I would like you to know that it is all your work. You are the artist hidden behind that smile, whether it is real or on paper.”
Min Yoongi’s shocked face almost distracted Taehyung, but he continued to talk, encouraged by the warmth that spread from his thumb to his heart.
“I wondered for a long time if I had the right to disturb your peace by informing you of what my heart began to demand almost immediately. I did not know what to do or how to act. Even now, I have no certainties on my side. However, I have discovered I am greedy and selfish, and I have accepted that part of me without asking myself questions: I want you to know that I have been a victim of your charm since you first told a story, and that my heart is not content, it asks for more.”
Min Yoongi’s eyes were watery; struck by the last rays of the sun, they were the most beautiful spectacle of nature Taehyung had ever witnessed. They captured every emotion agitating his chest and remained open, not letting a single one escape.
When he inevitably closed them, silent, swift tears began to wet his flushed cheeks. Taehyung moved to dry them, suddenly frightened.
Min Yoongi shook his head and hinted at a smile. “I want to obey it,” he said.
His hands covered Taehyung’s, which were still on his face, to keep them there and let them continue infusing a warmth that, as he would confess some time later, made him feel intoxicated.
Taehyung listened to every word Min Yoongi spoke with the same attention he reserved for his stories. Min Yoongi confessed every insecurity, every doubt that, from the beginning of that summer, had prevented him from acting selfishly. He had not had the courage to go beyond that line that so clearly marked the boundary between their worlds, certain he had no rights, unable to allow himself any claim. He had tried to be content with the moments Taehyung granted him, but, despite recognizing he was privileged, he had discovered he was greedy and selfish, too. He wanted something he was sure he would have never obtained, yet he could not stop, could not limit himself, his thoughts and his overwhelming desires. In the end, exhausted, he had given in: with the flowers and the portrait, which were simple yet inadequate gifts, he had admitted everything.
Taehyung stayed by his side as he looked so fragile, speaking between tears and sobs. After some moments of endless and loaded silence, he kissed him. Because he wanted to dispel any fear and demonstrate how great his need to put aside all caution was. He kissed him, light, timid, moved.
From that moment on, Min Yoongi did not part from his touches anymore.
Not much had changed since then: Min Yoongi continued to talk about his cities, and Taehyung, enchanted, continued to listen to him. However, beyond the surface, which was apparently the same, everything was different in its essence.
Min Yoongi requested to spend their time together wrapped in Taehyung’s arms: he would tell his stories while being hugged, and he would reveal his fun and playful nature without any masks. He liked that Taehyung would hold his hands, it was something that he subconsciously sought and that Taehyung was happy to oblige. He would often smile in pure happiness, as long as they were together.
Taehyung would look dreamily at him, dazed by the wave of happiness that seemed endless and that he was still not used to. He liked to surprise him with small and unexpected kisses that filled his stomach with a pleasant warmth and made Min Yoongi blush adorably.
For Taehyung, it was beautiful to be in love. He liked that Min Yoongi lived inside his brain, that his voice had become his favorite melody, that their breaths had synchronized just like their hearts.
Knowing he was willing to do anything for Min Yoongi did not frighten him, it never truly had.
At night, he liked to close his eyes and to imagine soft touches. He would drift off to sleep smiling, and his dreams would be filled with happy moments that he wished to live even when awake.
Soon, he began to invite Min Yoongi to spend the nights with him, determined to enjoy every moment in his company. When, in the morning, he would open his eyes again, the other would be there, looking at him, framed by a sense of familiarity he did not want to give up.
They would often talk about what would happen after the end of summer. Min Yoongi had asked him to follow him, and Taehyung had promised he would, afraid of the empty days that would come, lacking the colors he had discovered thanks to the other’s art.
“I would like to visit the potential city,” he confessed once. They had stayed awake the whole night, too busy enjoying each other’s company to give in to sleep. They were running out of time: they would gladly sacrifice a few hours of rest if that meant they could be happy surrounded by their love. They both knew not being close to each other would be unbearable.
Taehyung knew he could not immediately join Min Yoongi, follow him beyond the walls around the palace and see the world while standing next to him. Even though he wanted nothing more, he could not abandon everything all of a sudden. That was why he had asked Min Yoongi to be patient for three seasons: then, he had promised, he would have held his hand forever, without ever looking back.
The traveler had accepted the compromise: he would have not been able to deny anything to Taehyung, he had confessed. The depth of the feeling he was a victim of annihilated any other will, making him feel completely dominated and live an existence devoted only to Taehyung.
He said he was animated by the same energy that made poets compose the most beautiful verses, he liked to think his own life was an ode to Taehyung. He promised he was willing to wait even a lifetime, to think of him during every moment of their separation, to pretend to have him by his side to calm the crying of his desperate heart.
He admitted he was scared, and yet their promises excited him: eternity was waiting for them.
When Taehyung would tell him he loved him, Min Yoongi would blush. Then, his voice small and emotional, he would always answer using the same words.
“The world exists just to see you smile.”
____________________________
On Min Yoongi’s last day at the palace, Taehyung refused to leave his arms, determined to feel that comforting serenity that he knew would soon disappear. He looked at every corner of his face for a time that seemed unspeakably too short and kissed every portion of his body, eager and sadly graceful, determined to remember the colors and the flavors of every sensation.
He cried quietly in front of Min Yoongi, who was silent and dumbfounded, overwhelmed by an uncontrollable wave of emotions that made him speechless.
He wished he could stop time and live inside a bubble of imperturbable peace for the rest of his life. Just him, Min Yoongi and the quiet of such a fresh love. He would have given up everything not to experience the moment of their final goodbye and all the consequent sadness, the unavoidable distance from the most precious source of joy he had ever had the immense fortune of knowing.
The preceding days had passed quickly, unforgivably. Taehyung had ignored everything: he had no longer hinted at the future during his daily encounters with Min Yoongi, he had just given him his entire self as if eternity had opened its arms for them. He had smiled a lot, sincerely, because every moment spent with the young man he had learned so spontaneously to love was the reason for such candid and exhilarating happiness.
When he was alone, though, his heart would dim, suffocated by the fear that uncertainty caused. Min Yoongi would be away for several months, leaving, inside Taehyung’s heart, an empty space that had become his without any resistance. Loving him was simple, as natural as breathing. Taehyung feared that, while he was away, his life would lose all its color.
A distressed anxiety would catch him when his hand was not held in the other’s. A stunning hole would take hold of his chest, and Taehyung could do nothing but stop and bend to a pain that he knew was just a glimpse of what would come.
He would regain his clarity only when Min Yoongi looked at him again.
In those last hours, spent in a tangled and warm hug, Taehyung saw Min Yoongi’s eyes be filled with a nervous and unsettled fear, so forceful it grieved those features that were always calm and content. And he saw himself, the reflection of a state that would impose itself permanently, at least for several months, long and deprived of every color.
The hundreds of sunsets awaiting him would lose all their beauty.
They did not talk much. Dropping any mask of blissful pretense, they were just being themselves, desolate and sad, and let their bodies, their touches and their eyes speak.
The clear desperation of a goodbye hung between them, it was beating, inescapable. In those moments, it suffocated even the only ray of hope struggling to caress the wounds that would soon open. They knew they would see each other again, they had to wait just three seasons, but they seemed to have forgotten.
Just before sunset, Min Yoongi asked to go back to the fountain that Taehyung considered theirs, and once they were there, with his hands held tightly in Taehyung’s, he began to speak.
With an emotional voice, he talked about another city, the most unexpected one he had ever visited. Stubbornly curious, it had welcomed him and had soon become his favorite company. It had touched him with its regal and timeless beauty, had made him understand the meaning of his life and had promised him eternal happiness. It had the sweetest perfume and the delicacy granted to the most beautiful works of creation.
It had no woman’s name. When Taehyung asked him what its name was, Min Yoongi remained silent: he just looked him in the eyes.
“One day, it will be the answer I give when someone asks me where my home is.”
The utter sincerity of those words moved Taehyung, who was now crying as the last rays of the sun caressed his face, cruelly early.
He wished he could stop everything, interrupt the flow of time and bring it back to when they first met. Just to live again every sunset, every city, every acceleration of his beating heart, every touch. Just to discover again the patient beauty of a mad and intoxicated love. Just to feel again the emotion of every first time, to experience again the euphoria of the promise he would keep at any cost.
“It is time to go,” Min Yoongi said, his voice wet. “I must resume my journey.”
Taehyung nodded, kissed him one last time and in the end walked by his side towards the exit of the garden. The emperor, flanked by his guards, was waiting for them.
Min Yoongi bowed, speaking words of eternal gratitude: the emperor and the capital city had offered him much more than he had imagined, he would never forget it. He swore he would talk about the magic of that garden anywhere he would meet someone willing to listen, and he would spare no kindness in describing the most beautiful season of his entire existence.
The emperor smiled. Next to him, Taehyung could not hold back one last tear.
“You can go back home, now.”
Rising, Min Yoongi nodded. “I will reach it soon,” he said. He then looked at Taehyung, bowed again and thanked him using words that, Taehyung knew, contained the greatness of a feeling as deep as the sea.
Before turning his back on him, the emperor and an entire summer, Min Yoongi spoke one last time to Taehyung’s heart: “You will be there to see it happen.” Then he walked away, the warm light of a last happy sunset leading him towards the wait.
____________________________
My beloved,
at the very moment I bid you farewell, I realized I would not be able to spend several months without exchanging with you the sweetest words I have ever been capable of uttering. That is why I made a promise to myself: I will continue to tell you about my journey, to bring you with me while I visit unknown cities, to make you part of every adventure of mine. Until we can experience the sweetest one together.
I have spent just a few sunsets without you, yet it has felt like living several seasons. Days seem to expand within a space that is too open, its boundaries are blurred, unclear, distant.
I have a feeling I will live just one long day, its sunset lingering along a winding and comfortless road. I wish it were tomorrow already.
I have reached a city I cannot understand. It hides its true face, appearing different in every corner, and yet it is beautiful. Whatever side it chooses to show me, I am enchanted, dominated by its endless and multifaceted charm. I explore it far and wide, and my eyes never lay on a sight already seen. It is always new, marvelously incomprehensible.
I wish I could explore it while holding your hand. The same hand that will caress these distant words and that I dream of feeling on my skin again. Until then, I will talk to you in this way, entrusting the paper with every single one of my thoughts and without expecting anything in return. The love that stirs my heart is selfless, totally unconditional.
Forever yours,
Min Yoongi
_____________________________
The touch makes him tremble with frenetic wonder. It is not the first time it has happened, and yet, even after months, the astonishment does not cease to flush his cheeks and make him wish to spend eternity just like this.
Min Yoongi caresses him with trembling and cautious fingers, still incredulous.
His face is relaxed in an expression of absolute serenity: he is looking at him with a quiet confidence, his eyes almost speaking and uttering warm and welcoming syllables. His entire body, in this moment and as always, instills warmth and comfort, and there is no trace of sadness or melancholy: love is dominating, everything else belongs to the past.
Taehyung returns the touch and embraces him, hoping to express all his happiness like this. Min Yoongi is finally his reality. The wait is over, and now there is nothing separating them from a life to live next to each other.
In the shade of a setting sun, Min Yoongi and Taehyung exchange a sweet and patient kiss. Between them there is just the excitement for an eternity already happening and speaking words of fascination and devoted affection.
The road in front of them is unknown and yet reassuring. They will walk it together, hand in hand, the light of many shared sunsets gilding their bodies and thoughts.