Lost in Taipei
Some cities never shout. Taipei simply waits quietly and patiently until you’re ready to listen.
Charlie sat alone under the awning of an old convenience store right by Da’an district, the drizzle painting the pavement in soft silver. The air smelled like wet pavement and fresh scallion pancakes. It was his third day in this exact spot, sipping a bottle of water, the bottle sweating lightly in his hand, cool against his skin.
Charlie and Ming haven’t seen each other since that awful night. They hadn’t spoken much either—just scattered messages after Charlie’s trip to Chiayi. Safe, surface-level texts. A link to a nostalgic pop song. A simple: “Hope today’s better.” Neither dared to ask for more. And yet, when Ming texted: “Want to meet? Just talk. No expectations.” Charlie didn’t hesitate.
Now, the rain was letting up, and the quiet pulse of Taipei resumed around him—scooters zipping by, a street vendor stirring a pot of steaming beef noodle soup, and the comforting chaos of everyday life. It reminded him of the first night he arrived in Taipei, jet-lagged and unsure, walking aimlessly through the unfamiliar streets, wondering what he was doing here. Full circle, he thought.
Charlie sensed a familiar presence nearby as Ming approached him, dressed in a dark sports jacket that was damp at the shoulders. He silently offered one of the two paper cups he held out.
“You remembered,” Charlie said, accepting the Americano.
“You always go for an Americano,” Ming said, a hint of a smile on his lips.
They sat on the curb, side by side, shoulders brushing just slightly. For a long moment, neither said anything.
*Ming and Charlie
“I went back to my father’s house,” Ming finally said. “There were boxes I never touched after he died. Letters. Old photos. Turns out he loved photography. There were rolls of undeveloped film I never knew about.”
Charlie looked over. “What did you find?”
Ming paused. “A photo of him and Alex’s mother. Young, grinning, arms wrapped around each other like the world didn’t exist beyond them. They loved each other. But after she was pregnant with Alex, she was forced to leave the country by her father. My father stayed, and a few years later, he married my mother. Had me. I realized I knew nothing about the man who raised me. Not really.”
Charlie nodded, listening.
“And I kept thinking,” Ming continued, “If I could miss so much about someone I lived with, what else have I overlooked? In my life. In… us.”
Charlie’s breath caught, but he didn’t speak.
Ming turned toward him. “You came here looking for closure. Did you find it?”
Charlie opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Not really. Not at first. I thought coming here would tie things up and give me something clean to walk away with. But grief doesn’t work like that. And love… definitely doesn’t.”
He looked up at Ming. “I scattered my mom’s ashes in Chiayi. Thought that would be the last chapter. But even afterward, I felt like I was still waiting for something. Maybe it was this. Maybe it was you.”
Ming’s gaze softened. “I haven’t figured everything out either. About my father. Or Alex. I thought knowing the truth would help. Instead, it’s just more questions. He’s technically my only family now, and yet… I don’t even know if I want to get to know him. I’m not ready.”
Charlie nodded slowly. “Some things don’t need answers right away. Maybe it’s enough just to admit we’re still searching.”
Ming smiled faintly. “You always had a way of making confusion sound poetic.”
Charlie laughed, a quiet, warm sound. “It’s a gift. Or trauma. Could go either way.”
Charlie stared into the cup between his hands. “Maybe not closure. But I found space. To feel. To finally be myself—authentically, fully, without apology.”
A pause.
“I missed you,” Ming said, voice nearly swallowed by a passing bus.
Charlie looked up, let the words hang in the air, then glanced back down at his Americano. “Do you think we could ever… try again?”
Ming looked away, not in avoidance, but as if searching for the right words somewhere in the distance.
“I’m still trying to make sense of everything. We went through so much, so fast, and it’s going to take time. I want to believe we can heal through this, not around it. And maybe come back to each other in a stronger way. Real.”
Charlie nodded. “Maybe it’s not about fixing what broke. Maybe it’s about choosing to carry the weight together, even if we’re still healing.”
A silence settled between them—heavy, but no longer suffocating. That’s when Ming reached out, his hand brushing gently against Charlie’s face—a quiet apology, a question, a memory all at once. Neither pulled away.
They sat with that truth. In the background, the city whispered—traffic, voices, the faint sound of rain restarting. “I don’t know what happens next,” Ming said.
Charlie turned to face him, his voice soft. “Me neither. But I’m tired of pretending I don’t still love you.”
Ming didn’t answer with words. He leaned in.
The kiss unfolded like a memory they had both been holding onto for too long—quiet, trembling, then deep with the gravity of all they had carried. Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut as Ming’s lips found his, the city around them slowing, the rain soft as silk brushing over their skin. It was not rushed. It was perfect—not because it was flawless, but because it was real. Achingly, breathlessly real.
Neither moved, as if breaking apart would shatter the fragile, beautiful truth that they had finally found their way back to this moment.
When they finally parted, their foreheads touched. Ming said, “I love you too.”
“Whatever this is,” Charlie whispered, “I want to see where it takes us.”
Ming nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, lost in the rain.
They sat like that—two hearts quietly colliding in a city that never stopped moving.
“We were both lost in Taipei,” Charlie thought, “and maybe that’s okay. Because sometimes, getting lost is the only way to begin again.”
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