“So, you’re starting the work in earnest now, right?”
“Yes.”
“If there’s anything you need, or anything I can do to help, just tell me.”
“Yes, I will.”
I couldn’t say that this kind of embrace with him was entirely comfortable. Every point of contact made each and every one of my cells come alive, sharpening my senses, and I worried if my awkward posture was making him uncomfortable. But of course, it was different from the kind of unpleasant discomfort that makes you wish for it to be over quickly.
“I don’t just mean it in words. It’s my job, and also… I personally want to be of help. Don’t think things like, ‘Am I being a bother?’ Just tell me right away.”
I smiled softly and nodded at his concern, which pinpointed exactly where I would hesitate.
The Seoul I looked down upon while in his arms was now completely transitioning from afternoon to evening. There was nothing to obstruct the view, and a rather cool breeze blowing down from Namsan rustled the hem of my clothes and my hair as it passed.
I thought I could almost understand how Jack Dawson from ‘Titanic’ felt when he shouted ‘I’m the king of the world’ from the bow of the massive cruise ship as I gazed at the winding path of the Han River, then snickered at my own silly sentiment. It was also because I remembered seeing an article about a poll conducted in the UK to determine the ‘cheesiest movie line,’ where Titanic’s ‘I’m the king of the world’ was voted number one. They were truly insubstantial associations, all over the place with no coherence.
And it occurred to me that it had been a very, very long time since I had last let myself drift blankly, surrendering to the random thoughts that rose and fell without any meaning.
As I watched the flickering, blinking, and the slow and fast movements of the various kinds of lights that made the city’s blood flow, the warmth of his body sharing this moment with me felt so good that I turned my head, rested my cheek on his shoulder, and buried my lips deep into the nape of his neck. It was my own way of being affectionate.
He lowered his head and kissed my cheek and ear. The arm that held me slowly stroked my back, as if to soothe me. Suddenly, I felt the impulse to tell him I loved him.
I call it an impulse, but it wasn’t an explosive desire born from being swept up in a mood or emotion. If it were, I would have already told him I loved him several times during our ecstatic nights together.
There was no logical self-realization that made me aware of love, nor was there any particular event that could have served as a catalyst, but it just felt like there could be nothing more natural than to tell him I loved him in this moment. That was all.
“……”
“……What’s wrong?”
I had abruptly pushed his body away. To be more precise, I had abruptly pulled my own body away from his. He held out his now-empty arms and asked the reason for my sudden action.
“Uh… I was going to take some pictures before the sunset fades more.”
He narrowed his eyes, adding a hint of playfulness to his suspicious expression, but he didn’t press further.
I took a few shots of the western sky with the digital camera he had given me to use for my work. I changed the lens’s direction and captured a photo of him as he cleared the table. I took a full-body shot with the bungalow, its tent flapping in the wind, in the background, and then zoomed in to capture his profile, with its neat and distinct contours.
“You barely ate again.”
He clicked his tongue, looking at my half-eaten hamburger. I quickly lowered the camera and approached the table to help him clean up.
“You said you wanted a hamburger. If you can’t even eat something you said you wanted, this is a real problem.”
“Because of the work… I think I’m in a bit of an excited state these days. I feel full even when I don’t eat….”
“I know you don’t have an appetite… but it’s summer, and if you keep leaving food like this every time because you’re not hungry, it makes me really worried.”
He was taking the situation seriously, saying he would have to consult with the specialist from the training company to prepare a meal plan that was easy on the stomach while still providing a balanced intake of nutrients.
“Regular food won’t do. I’ll have them prepare fresh dishes with minimal seasoning that won’t upset your stomach, and I’ll never force you to eat an unreasonable amount. But in return, promise me you’ll finish that much without using your appetite as an excuse. Okay?”
Unless something came up, we usually had dinner together after he got off work, but my breakfast and lunch were prepared at a set time each day by the housekeeper who came to work. The environment he had provided for me so far was already more than I deserved.
Perhaps my stomach had become a little sensitive from adjusting to the drastically changed environment in such a short period, or maybe I had simply lost my appetite a little due to the season. Whether it was the former or the latter, it was a common symptom that could happen to anyone.
“You don’t have to go that far, what I have now is more than enou—.”
“Promise me. It’s not a difficult thing to do.”
“……”
The playfulness had completely vanished from his expression.
“It’s been almost two weeks since you started eating so little. We need to come up with a solution. Wouldn’t it be better for your work, too?”
Seeing him shake my right shoulder a couple of times as if to press for a definite answer, I nodded, and only then did he smile.
The fact that he mentioned a specific period, saying it had been almost two weeks, made me realize that he must have been concerned all this time but had tried his best not to show it, probably so I wouldn’t feel sorry.
If this was what it took to put his mind at ease, I would agree for now… but honestly, I was still confused about where to draw the line between accepting kindness and crossing the line into abandoning my original self.
A world where meals of different menus were prepared at a set time, where the room was neatly tidied up in the time it took to water the garden, and where the drawers and closets were always full of perfectly laundered clothes… that was his world, not mine.
We decided to leave the icebox on the rooftop for the time being and carried the rest of our things downstairs together. In the meantime, the sun had completely set. After sorting the trash and having a cup of tea together, I went down to the studio with him, as he was curious about the direction of my work.
Although there might be changes during the actual painting process, I talked about the images I was currently envisioning, showing him sketches and photos. He listened with a very serious attitude and offered no advice or questions. His way of keeping a distance from another person’s art was so similar to my parents and my former director that I smiled briefly without him noticing.
“Hmm? When did you take this?”
I stopped my hand, which had been selecting an easel for the initial sketch, and looked back at him. Perched on the back of the sofa and looking down at the small digital camera, he turned the screen toward me and grinned. It was the photos of him I had taken on the rooftop just a little while ago.
“Earlier… when you were cleaning up, I took a few….”
My ears grew hot, but I pretended to be unconcerned, feigning nonchalance as I adjusted the height of the brush holder on the easel I had chosen. But looking at his expression, it seemed he had no intention of letting it slide.
He rose from the sofa, came closer, and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. The rich combination of several perfumes seeped deep into my lungs with each breath.
“What’s this, why the candid shots? I can be a good model if you just ask.”
“……”
Later. When everything within me had fully ripened. I had planned to ask him then. I didn’t want to rush and ruin anything related to him.
“You took them well, though. The photographer’s gaze toward the subject… that affectionate yet shy look is right there.”
He spoke cheerfully, bending his back slightly to press his chin gently on my shoulder. I could picture my reddened ears and neck, but I didn’t bother to deny his interpretation.
“Now you get it, right?”
I turned my head and looked down at his face. I wanted to brush my hand over his lush eyelashes as they slowly lifted to look up at me.
His lips curved into a gentle arc.
“Why I didn’t want to show you the photos in Hong Kong.”
“……”
“You still have that ‘I don’t know’ look on your face?”
He released the arm around my waist and waved the camera in front of my eyes.
“The photographer’s gaze toward the subject is all laid bare here. On top of that, you, Seo Yeehyeon, are practically a fortune-teller when it comes to reading things like that. I would’ve been found out immediately.”
I had no intention of denying that a subtle exchange of glances and a tension different from before had flowed between us in Hong Kong, but I had only thought of it as something like an atmosphere in the air, too uncertain and formless to be named interest or attraction. The kind of thing that would vanish the moment someone else who could stimulate his interest appeared….
“Back then, you… weren’t very interested in me….”
“Hmm, do people go out of their way to leave a party just to be with someone they’re not interested in? And at the after-party for our gallery’s exhibition, no less?”
He spoke as if it were an impossible notion, his free hand sliding down my arm from the shoulder to overlap his hand with mine on the back, lacing our fingers together.
“When…?”
He looked up at me with a resentful expression, then lifted our clasped hands and nibbled on my knuckles.
“See, I knew you were this oblivious. Ah… I tried not to give you my heart because I thought you’d be like this.”
How much of the story within his exaggerated, feigning tone was sincere? To me, he had been the oblivious one, yet he had thought of me the same way. And because of that, he had tried not to give me his heart.
My chest tingled at the story of him being conscious of me in ways I hadn’t known, and I squeezed our intertwined hands a little tighter.
After a moment of seeming hesitation, he tightened his arms around my waist and pressed his cheek against mine.
“The day the five of us—Choi Inwoo, Baek Yuni, Kwon Juhan—were drinking at the Spanish tavern. Do you remember Inwoo and I went to the gallery?”
“Yes, but back then….”
It was already months ago. I didn’t remember every scene and moment perfectly, but I seemed to recall Inwoo’s face, complaining with an aggrieved expression at his words about being dragged along against his will.
Back then, I hadn’t paid much attention to such matters, like who had followed whom or who had been dragged along….
“Then who did you really think I followed to that place?”
Leave a Reply