Two weeks later, I heard the news that I and a coworker who had been hired two years before me were up for the post. Gyu-ho swiftly applied for his counterpart administrative position at his company’s Shanghai clinic and got the job. They were even offering him a living stipend. We looked up where to live in Shanghai, where the city’s gay clubs were, what the prices were like, and good places to buy furniture. While I was looking up the visa requirements for my job, I came across a clause saying that anyone wishing to reside for more than six months in China needed to pass a physical. A physical that included blood work. According to my search results, China was cracking down on sexually transmitted diseases that in recent years had been spreading among their population.

Kylie.

I had wanted too much. I’d already been given so much in the past three years. When you try to have too much, you’re bound to stumble at some point.

The next day, I went to my boss and told him that due to my mother’s illness, it was probably best for the company if I withdrew my application for the China posting. To Gyu-ho, I said that my coworker got the job. Gyu-ho replied that he would also stay, there were many hospitals that wanted him. As always, I gave Gyu-ho the right answer.

—You have to go. You can’t just give up this great opportunity. You really should go.

Gyu-ho said nothing.

◊

And for two months after that, we lived the same way as before. We laughed at each other’s jokes, kissed, deboned fish for each other and placed the flesh on each other’s spoons, occasionally showered together, and in the midst of it all, Gyu-ho’s new luggage set was delivered to our house and his things left our drawers and went into his suitcases. A flash, a moment of possibility—but I didn’t go down that path. I knew the swelling of my heart would last only a moment. These feelings of aching possibility were only a sign that our time together was finally over for good.

On the last night we spent in the same house, I gazed at Gyu-ho’s sleeping face. He slept like a dead man, just like always. Why did he never make a sound when he slept? Like he was afraid of being a nuisance to others. Like he was a burden, no matter how long we had lived together. Was that my fault or his fault, or just something neither of us could do anything about?

The next day, I went with Gyu-ho to the airport in Incheon. Once we checked his bags, we had about an hour left until his flight. Gyu-ho said he was hungry, so I went to a Paris Baguette to get the japchae fried pastry he liked and some milk. I shook my head when he asked me if I was hungry too. He was the one who was hungry, but he took only a bite of the pastry before asking me a question.