1 La Douleur Exquise
noun: (French) The excruciating pain experienced when wanting something you can't have.
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{Photography is the art, application, and practice of creating durable images by recording light, either electronically by means of an image sensor, or chemically by means of a light-sensitive material such as photographic film.}
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"–that's how I met him." He smiled, "and I don't regret it one bit, but I think he does. It's his ultimatum to appear, for a lack of a better word, cool."
There was a loud eruption of laughter around him. Sangtae and Jiwon were shouting in glee. The others were also loud, despite having heard the story every time Mingzhou wanted to tease Junfei.
Mingzhou caught his eyes, dancing with the mirth of the story and the happiness of the day. Junfei's mouth formed a slow tender smile, which looked so special under the setting sun.
It was a pity he didn't have his camera. It would have been a spectacular addition.
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Mingzhou never believed in fate, it was a ridiculous notion that romantics had created to quench their desire for love and relevance. No, he despised the idea that his life was set in stone, carved by the hands of a greater being. He preferred being the one doing the writing, thank you very much.
So he wrote.
He wrote bits of Chinese poetry. Sometimes he penned lyrics on restaurant flyers that only wanted to advertise their Mala xiang guo and were suddenly worth so much more, with the poignant words covering any empty space. But soon his words were exhausted.
That's when he discovered the glories of a camera.
It was small, ran on film and wasn't of the best quality, but he adored it. He loved the pictures where he caught the mixing of the orange and red during sunrise, the white froth of the ocean waves crashing into the sand, the lush green foliage of the forest near his hometown. Pictures were a part of his soul. He decided it would be his way of carving his stone.
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High school was rough, though. Being away from home was one thing.
"Mingzhou, don't you have class now?" His mom's static voice scolded through his phone speaker.
He put aside his camera, which was previously focused on a flock of migrating birds, and made his bed before going into the kitchen he and Junfei shared.
School was always a pain, just slightly bearable with the energizing battery that Junfei was.
"Aren't we early?" The clock read 7:20 am.
"You don't want to miss today's recital." He shrugged, stuffing toast into his mouth.
Recital?
Realization struck him in between his eyes 3 seconds later. The musical.
His momentary panic did not go unnoticed. Junfei was grinning now, "would you have told me on your own?"
"I do not like Seongho."
"And I did not name drop," Jun pointed out cheekily, "but hey if the shoe fits."
Truth was, yes, he was harbouring a small crush on his classmate. His voice was so beautiful, his smile was like the sunrise, and his laugh made the room brighter, and this was coming from a budding photographer. Mingzhou swore the intensity of light increased every time Seongho's lips parted for a wide grin. He was similar to Jun in that pure, innocent way in which he did everything.
Mingzhou groaned, "I didn't come all the way to Korea to crush on some pretty boy."
"Aww," Junfei cooed, spraying some bread crumbs, "I never really noticed that he was pretty."
"Shut up, shut up."
They left for school, Mingzhou took his camera along with him, ordering Jun to stand wherever the lighting and scenery aligned, to practice his photography skills. They meandered slowly to school, just in time to get one of the front seats.
The recital was brilliant. Seongho executed his part perfectly, his voice touching every soul in the hall. Some had tears in their eyes. Mingzhou wanted to capture that moment when the entire hall was silent at the display of beauty in the form of music.
"I'm telling you, he'll someday be a star in a big musical," Mingzhou heard one of the seniors, Jaesung – a sports captain, whisper proudly to some of the youngsters. He agreed silently.
When the show ended, with a deafening standing ovation, Jun turned to him with a proud smile, humming the tunes of the song in his sweet voice. "Did you like it?"
"It was okay." He didn't want to give away his real impression of the show.
Junfei smiled.
He knew. He always did.
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"What do you think? Should it be more formal?" Mingzhou looked at Jun from his seat on the dining table. He rewrote his application form to the university so many times but never felt satisfied.
The smell of congee wafted from the kitchen, it was making it hard to concentrate. It had been so long since Junfei had cooked for him. Just for him. Junfei had concocted something to remind them of home with Mingzhou in mind. He knew this because Jun said so while spooning their dinner into two ceramic bowls, "thought I'd make a taste of home for you, it's been so long xiao Zhou."
They were seated at the coffee-stained table of the dorm that used to be theirs, but now it was just Mingzhou.
"I think it's good enough. It's your first, there's so many to come. Don't get hung up on this."
Junfei's words stayed with him forever.
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Mingzhou didn't have a crush on the entire person. He had a penchant for parts of them. Parts of different people. Like a collage. Their best features making an appeal to Mingzhou's keen eyes.
He enjoyed Seongho's voice and bubbly personality as an eighth-grader. His next muse of admiration was in freshman year. The Korean-American student – Jeremiah. His face could be on any magazine. He could upgrade any picture.
This time Mingzhou was more aware of how to navigate his feelings. He still received eyebrow waggles and meaningful coughs from Jun, but that was his own fault. Mingzhou got so flustered every time the boy so much as smiled.
Jeremiah was so well-spoken; he was polite, friendly and kind-hearted but he never noticed the girls tripping behind him. How was he to ever notice Mingzhou?
"Shouldn't you say something to him? Just to see what could happen?" Junfei angled his face towards the Cherry blossom tree. The light hit the planes of his face like it was incident on opaque glass. The evening orange made the high slopes of Junfei's cheekbones and the deep cupid's bow on his lips vivid. His chocolate brown hair looked like it was melting into the sunset. Mingzhou thanked his artistic eye for the photographic description of his best friend. But he didn't do words anymore, he preferred art – in this case, his photographs – to do its own speaking.
"Shouldn't you shut up when I'm taking pictures," he zoomed out a little to capture the older boy's intimidating height. The picture turned out well. Really well, if he did say so himself.
"I think you can say something to him if the guy doesn't know already that is. You freeze up every time you see him. So either you hate him or like him," Junfei was looking over his shoulder at the pictures. "Ooh, this one is nice."
He ignored the latter part of Jun's well-meaning statement. "Should I say something you think?"
He nodded. "Just something. The guy is nice enough to talk to man, go for it."
And so he steeled his mind to confess, with Junfei as his mental support system.
The next day they arrived at school to a flurry of whispers and apparently a lot of gossip. Mingzhou doesn't discern the words at first; Jun's eyes conveyed it all.
"Who is it?"
Junfei doesn't act like he doesn't know, doesn't try to cushion the blow. "I haven't heard yet. They'll probably pass by this hall for their first class anyways. We might catch a glimpse."
"Must be one of those girls," Mingzhou tips his head at a giggling group of seniors, who were noisily chattering about 'beautiful Jeremiah, I can't believe I didn't catch this one before, it's so obvious the way he looks at–'
He shook his head. "It's not...not a girl."
Mingzhou wished he'd have opened his mouth earlier. He regretted being so slow to understand it in the first place. Understand that what began as admiration became the basis of his attraction towards the American boy. He hadn't penned the feeling to be attraction because it was so different from what he felt towards Seongho a year ago. How quickly his perception of attraction had changed, but it didn't bother him. He was allowed change. That's what Junfei would say anyways.
Jeremiah walked in, hand in hand with Yang Jaesung. The hallway parted into two neat rows to let them pass.
The Gentleman and the Champion.
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Junfei received his acceptance letter in the mail a week into summer. He had graduated and Junfei sent portfolios and his outstanding marks cards to University to hone his artistic skills.
"I made it." the older boy sounded a little awestruck and delirious.
Mingzhou was busy scraping the burnt rice from the bottom of the cooker. He should have let Junfei handle the food, but summer meant trying new things.
When he turned around to ask him to repeat, the older boy was staring blankly at the letter that would soon change his life.
"What?"
"I got in. Xiao Zhou, I made it."
They abandoned the burnt rice in the cooker and went out to eat, to celebrate.
