Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

44

Chan treats me to burritos and fries, and we eat in a little booth in the back of the diner. Afterwards I get each of us two scoops of ice cream from the shop in the park along Han River.
The weather is nice. It's sunny and the sky is clear as a diamond.
"We should go for a walk," Chan suggested and I agree. After a few minutes I realize that this is the park where Chan and I first met.
I still remember the exact moment he spoke to me the very first time.

"It's crazy," I say as we walk along the pathways, "To think we've met here only a few months ago."
Chan glances at me from the side and smiles.
I think back on that day and raise an eyebrow.
I ask, "What were you doing that day in the park?"
Chan shrugs and pulls a face, blowing air into his cheeks.
"I was just walking," he says then, "I've had a really rough time right before we met. Things weren't going well in the studio and we've hit a rough patch with our sells.. I just needed to clear my head and relax a little."
His eyes meet mine as his shoulder nudges into mine and he says, "And then there was you."
I smile and glance away, heat rising in my cheeks.

My eyes fall onto a wide, green space between a few trees.
A group of people has gathered, laying casually on a few blankets.  They have a basket between them, a few paper plates scattered around the middle. They laugh and they cuddle, and they look very happy. A few feet away from them, a couple sits and plays guitar for one another.
This is the exact place where I used to hold the free dance classes every Thursday and Friday. 
"Chan, what exactly are we doing here?"
He finished his ice cream a few minutes ago and now he's stuffing his hands into his pockets.  He shrugs and  cocks his head.
"I told you I wanted to show you something," he says, "I've been wanting to show you this for a while now but after what you said in the practice room, I think now is a good time."
He walks to stand beneath one of the trees and I follow him. He leans against the trunk with his shoulder and I look around the tree over to the wide space.
He continues, "You talked about wanting to make an impact. I don't think you realize that you already do that. And yes, the videos you make are beautiful and you have insane talent. But you don't notice how you influence people outside of all that."
His eyes land on me, but I watch as a group of five people my age walk onto the park greenery.
One of them, a girl with a curtain of black hair, is carrying a huge boom box. Another one is carrying a big black poster.
"You've influenced people even before you became famous."
I can read the poster from my place beneath the tree.

FREE DANCE CLASSES
THE OLIVIA PARK PROJECT

The music starts playing. It's a song I know well, I've done a choreo to it a few weeks ago.
My mouth opens but I don't really know what to say. Suddenly the space fills with people, gathering from all over the park. They get in rows, just like they used to when I held the classes.
The group of teenagers stand at the front greeting their students, waving and laughing.
"They've been doing this for a few weeks now," Chan explains, "They have an Instagram page as well, you should check them out."
I can't look away from all those people, at least sixty of them, dancing my choreography.
It's different when it's real people and not tiny faces on my phone screen.
It is real. It is tangible and concrete and real.
Chan steps closer to me, so close his side lines up with mine and he gingerly hooks his pinky finger around mine.
"Without you, none of these people would be here. Look at their faces, how they're laughing and dancing," he looks at me but I can't meet his eyes, "None of them would feel this happy right now if you hadn't started this when you did."

I take a shaky breath and laugh embarrassed when a small tear escapes my eye. I wipe it away and finally look at Chan.
His gentle smile makes my heart beat faster.
He giggles and wipes over my cheek again.
"Your ideas matter, Ollie," he says so quietly that only I can hear him, "You're smart and so creative. You care about your craft, you care about the details that make it stand out from any other person's work. The way you care about expressing your emotions and thoughts is what makes you special. I am not the only one seeing that, either. So many people value your ideas, so don't listen to those comments. Your work is something only you could have made work. No one can do it like you do, Ollie."
I swallow thickly. More tears have spilled over and I'm crying into my sleeve-covered hand.
I hadn't realized how much I had needed to hear this. Chan always knows just what to say.
Situations like this make me realize again how lucky I am to have him.

I know we're in public and neither of us is wearing much of a disguise, but I still wrap my arms around his middle and press my face into his chest.
"Thank you," my voice is weak, "This means more to me than you probably know."
He rests his head on mine and rubs my back. For a moment, the world ceases to exist and there is only him and me beneath this tree.
A calm stillness befalls me and the world stops turning. For a moment, we are frozen and I'm forcing all my senses to save this exact second. I want to remember it as best I can in the future.
I want to remember his warm arms, heavy and secure around my body. I want to remember the soft breeze from the river and the fabric of his shirt. I want to remember how I can almost hear his heart beat through his chest, steady and strong. I want to remember the smell of his cologne that he must have sprayed right onto his shirt.
I never want to forget what it means to be in Chan's arms.