31st December 2012
The last day of the year.
Instead of celebrating at home with their families, Egemed and Jerelr chose something unusual—an overnight camp at "The Valley of Breath". It was only half an hour from their houses, but they wanted a different ending to their year. Something quiet. Something theirs.
The whole afternoon they carried bedsheets, pillows, and small essentials, building a clumsy little camp that made them laugh at their own effort. As the sun slipped toward the horizon, they lit a fire and brewed tea. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they sipped from warm cups and watched the sky fade into shades of orange and violet.
They talked until the early dusk, mostly Jerelr giving advice on how Egemed should begin his work in the coming year. Egemed, determined, held his small notebook close to the firelight, scribbling notes even though the darkness made it nearly impossible.
When the fire burned steady, they roasted a whole chicken—tearing it apart with chilled fingers until nothing but clean bones remained. Their stomachs ached from eating too much, and they laughed about it like two boys who forgot the world existed.
Later, lying between the fire's warmth, they watched the sky bloom with stars. Their conversations drifted endlessly, like constellations woven between them. But as the night deepened, the cold sharpened. When their firewood ran low, they retreated inside the tent, where a single candle flickered gently in the center.
Wrapped in their blankets, sitting quietly across from each other, Egemed pulled out a blank sheet of paper from his coat.
"I want to write something for you," he said softly. "So you can begin your new year with light, joy, and happiness."
Jerelr smiled, understanding immediately. When Egemed pulled out another sheet and began writing secretly, Jerelr reached into his pocket for a pen and did the same.
"Write it like poetry," Egemed whispered, grinning. "So only the two of us can understand it."
Jerelr nodded.
In that dim candlelight, they wrote. Their words slanted crookedly; some lines drifted like wandering stars, others overlapped like sky and earth touching. They laughed at the mess, continued writing, and at exactly midnight—12:00 a.m.—they exchanged their letters and wished each other a warm, heartfelt:
"Happy New Year."
—
Egemed's Letter
TO,
JERELR (MY JEGE)
This is the only gift I can give you—my words. I had no chance to buy anything this year.
"In a room of darkness,
I saw a small hole tearing through—
and from that hole, a thin light entered.
It was the first time light had ever touched my darkness.
I clung to it, afraid it would blind me,
but it didn't—it gave me hope.
The light grew, slowly but surely,
spreading through every corner of my blackened room.
Now that light follows me everywhere,
guiding me through all my darkest paths.
It is like breath when I have none left.
And it's the only light I trust
for ten thousand generations.
The name of that light is JERELR MYERS."
I will always love you, even until my last breath.
You are the reason I stayed alive in my darkest hours.
Your Beloved Friend,
EGEMED MYCHEN
——
Jerelr's Letter
TO,
MY BROTHER, EGEMED
"I stood in a field of black flowers.
Among them was a white flower stained with blood.
I left it there for three years.
When I returned, the white flower remained,
but the blood on it had deepened.
It was turning fully red.
So I plucked it gently and carried it home.
I tried washing the stain away,
but it did not vanish.
So I decided instead
to care for it,
love it,
until all its blood washed away—
until it became white again."
With love and blessing,
May your dreams come true.
And I will be there to help you reach them.
Your Heartless Friend,
JERELR MYERS
——
When Egemed finished reading, tears shimmered in his eyes. He folded the letter carefully and tucked it close to his heart. Jerelr did the same.
Seeing Egemed's tears, Jerelr leaned closer and wiped them with his cold fingers.
"Don't cry too much, brother. You're a man."
"You're the one who made me cry," Egemed sniffed.
"Ah? Then forgive me?" Jerelr grinned.
Egemed swatted his shoulder. "Shut up."
Jerelr pretended to gasp. "My! I never thought Brother Ege would say that!"
They burst into laughter, and soon Jerelr pinched Egemed, challenging him,
"Well then—arm wrestle with me, Ege?"
Egemed's eyes sparkled. "Sure! If I win, I'll pinch you. Twice."
They played round after round, laughter echoing in the small space. Jerelr lost, then won, then lost again—until he grew frustrated and turned away with a dramatic "hmph."
Egemed grabbed his blanket and shook it. "Come on, Jerelr! Don't sulk! You invited me!"
After a moment of silence, Jerelr turned around with a sheepish smile.
"Fine… we should sleep anyway. It's freezing."
"You're right," Egemed said. "Use my blanket—we'll be warmer together."
They lay down under their combined
blanket—
The night deepened, and the cold grew sharper, seeping into every corner of the small tent. Egemed and Jerelr lay under their blankets, shoulders almost touching. The warmth of the fire had faded, and the faint glow of the single candle flickered like a fragile heartbeat. Outside, the wind whispered against the valley, carrying with it a chill that seemed to seep straight into their bones.
Jerelr shivered lightly, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. Egemed, still awake despite his earlier exhaustion, noticed immediately.
Without a word, he scooted closer, letting his body radiate warmth. His hand brushed against Jerelr's shoulder. Jerelr flinched slightly, not from fear, but from the sudden realization that Egemed was moving closer.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Egemed wrapped his arms around Jerelr, drawing him close. The embrace was gentle but firm, protective and warm—a shield against the cold that pressed in from all sides. Jerelr stiffened at first, caught between embarrassment and comfort, unsure how to react. But the warmth seeped into him, spreading from his chest to his hands, his feet, until he felt safe in a way he hadn't before.
Egemed rested his chin lightly on Jerelr's shoulder. The heat of his breath brushed against Jerelr's neck, steady and calming.
For a moment, neither spoke; the quiet hum of the wind outside and the faint flicker of candlelight filled the silence. Jerelr's mind raced, questioning what this closeness meant, but another part of him simply wanted to stay there, enveloped in warmth, silent, safe.
"You're… really cold," Egemed murmured, almost to himself, tightening his arms slightly.
."I can't let you shiver like this. You'd freeze before morning."
Jerelr wanted to protest, to say he didn't need help, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he allowed himself to sink into the embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of Egemed's heartbeat against his own. It was calming, grounding—like a tether to something real, something unshakable.
The tent was small, and the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces that had forgotten they belonged side by side.
Jerelr's fingers twitched, almost instinctively resting against Egemed's arm. Egemed, awake but quiet, felt the movement and smiled faintly in the dark, not letting it break the protective hold he had around his friend.
Minutes stretched into an hour, or maybe more; time lost all meaning under the weight of the night and the intimacy of the warmth they shared. Jerelr's breath evened out, his body relaxing into a trust he hadn't realized he possessed. Egemed held him like this, steady, patient, unjudging, allowing Jerelr the space to feel safe without words, without questions, without expectation.
Eventually, sleep began to claim them both, slow and gentle. Jerelr, half-dreaming, felt the comfort of Egemed's arms, and in that blurred line between consciousness and sleep, he thought—this is what it means to be cared for. This is what it means to belong.
Egemed, watching the soft rise and fall of Jerelr's chest in the dim light, thought to himself, "He's like a little brother to me… but I'll keep him warm no matter what. Even if the world outside is harsh, he'll never be cold while I'm here."
And there, in the quiet valley under a sky full of stars, they slept—two souls intertwined in trust, warmth, and a bond that spoke louder than any words could.
"He'll think I like him," Egemed murmured to himself. "But he's cold… I can't let him freeze."
When morning came, Jerelr woke to find himself in Egemed's arms, held tightly like a child clutching a toy. Embarrassed, he froze.
Egemed stirred. "Don't worry, Jege," he whispered. "I hugged you only because you were shivering. I treat you like a little brother. I'm sorry if ...you."
Jerelr cut in with a soft laugh. "No… but thank you, brother."
When the sun rose high enough to warm the valley, they packed their things and descended toward home.
Jerelr pointed toward the road.
"Brother, remember—tomorrow, you come to my house. We start working."
Egemed nodded. "Yes. I will."
They waved at each other at the fork of the path—one turning right, the other left.
"Bye-bye!"
Their voices carried softly across the cold valley, lingering like a memory neither of them would forget.