the theory of relativity | heehoon

four.

Sunghoon and Heeseung graduate high school in February, at the end of the school year. Their future is all laid out ahead of them; they both have early admission places at Seoul National University, Sunghoon in Mechanical Engineering to pursue his childhood aspiration of designing trains, and Heeseung in Music to set a course for his dream of becoming a musician.

"Do you think this was fated?" Heeseung asks as he slips the letter back into the pristine envelope with its pristine logo. They're at the park that sits somewhere along the way between both their houses; they'd met there after hurried phone calls to each other about the letters that'd arrived in their mailboxes that very day. "All of this. Do you think we were fated?"

Sunghoon smiles, putting his envelope down on the grass on top of Heeseung's. "I don't like to believe in fate," he answers. "We did this. Let's not let some omnipotent destiny take credit for what we've worked for."

"You're right." Heeseung lies back on the grass damp with evening dew, letting the world fall away around him and the boy sitting next to him. "We worked hard for all this."

Graduation will not mark the end of their journey together, as it will for many other high school couples. They wonder which stars shone on them the night they opened their university acceptance letters together, because where the distance in the coming months will drive people apart, as everyone scatters to begin their next stage of life, Sunghoon and Heeseung will be spared from it all.

The actual day of the graduation, in fact, falls on the 2nd of February, the day that marks their first month together. Sunghoon is conducted away from the rest of the cohort to prepare for his Valedictorian's speech and Heeseung is in the wings of the auditorium stage readying himself for his performance, which means neither of them get to see each other until the actual ceremony starts.

"Good evening Principal Lee, Vice Principal Park, teachers, graduating students, parents and esteemed guests. As Valedictorian of the graduating cohort of 2020, I would like to thank the school for giving me the honor of representing the students of this high school in expressing our sincerest gratitude towards everyone present today."

Sunghoon is, as expected, as always, gorgeous. The graduation gown is one size fits all, too tight on some and too baggy on others, but on him it's perfect. Heeseung doesn't much care if it's his biased opinion, but he swears up and down that Sunghoon is the most beautiful person in the hall that day, as he is on every other day.

They pass each other in the wings of the auditorium backstage for just a split second as Heeseung is called up for his performance and Sunghoon pulls the other boy to a stop just long enough for him to squeeze his hand as they cross paths.

"I love you, baby. All the best."

"Presenting Lee Heeseung, top student of our school's music program, with his final performance to his classmates of '20!"

Heeseung's piano performance is a medley that ends with a beautiful rendition of their school song. Parents of students he doesn't know come up to him and Sunghoon in the crowd later, congratulating them on their shared excellence. The pair of them accept the complimentary words with smiles and returned sentiments, but they don't leave each other's side, and their intertwined hands don't loosen until the night is over.

Sunghoon stays till the end of the ceremony to tie up any loose ends, as his position in the Organizing Committee requires of him, and Heeseung could hardly bear to leave without him. They finish up as the digital clocks flashing green in the classrooms show half past nine, taking down the last of the signs that mark the campus hallways for visiting parents to navigate. The rented graduation gowns and caps and fake diplomas have long been brought away, and the two of them are back in their school uniforms, likely for the last time.

Heeseung has the stack of laminated signs neatly piled in the crook of his arm as they walk down familiar corridors. The lights are still burning, but the school halls have a different kind of peace in the nighttime. They pass by their third-year classroom on their way back to meet with the rest of the committee, and Sunghoon pulls him to a stop for just a moment.

The whiteboard is clean of the doodles and drawings characteristic of their class, the printed posters of terrible Internet memes taken down from the walls. The tables and chairs are arranged back into meticulous rows and columns, devoid of the seating arrangement patterns that had once been life and death to students.

Heeseung thinks about the new batch of students that will be here when school reopens, sitting in those seats, writing on those boards, talking with new friends, starting their new lives, and everything seems to hit him at once.

"Look at our classroom," he says. "By April a new class will be assigned to this room, and it'll be like we were never here at all. What a sad way for everything to end."

"Not everything lasts forever," Sunghoon says, the flickering glow from the one faulty light bulb casting a winking glow over his face. "Everything will have its end, and that's okay. But we will always remember that we were once here, and that's what's important."

"You're right," Heeseung says, letting himself look away from the empty classroom. "I suppose in the first place this place never belonged to us, only to a moment in time that had us in it."

Sunghoon smiles, a soft expression that reaches his eyes. "That's a good way to put it," he answers. "Then, here's to the moments in time that have us in them." He holds his torchlight up high, sending a bright ray into the ceiling.

Heeseung joins him for the briefest moment, holding up his own. "And may they always shine, just as bright as we did tonight."

Their conversation doesn't continue as they walk away from the classroom that was once their home, but the company is all they need to fill the moment in time, their moment in time.