“The truth is… I’m not feeling well….”
If what Shushu said was true, the thought that he wasn’t entirely lying about being unwell made a hollow laugh escape him.
“You do look pale. Your lips are white as a sheet, too.”
Juhan, finally looking worried, studied Yeehyeon’s face carefully. Yuni took the beer bottle Yeehyeon had been holding and set it down on the kitchen sink.
“You should go home and rest. You’re not the type to say you’re sick just because you’re feeling a little down.”
“……”
As Yeehyeon stood motionless with a reluctant expression, Yuni ruffled his hair and spoke in a placating tone.
“It’s not like we’ll never see you again. We’re going to the Representative’s house on Friday, so we can see you then.”
According to the plan, Yeehyeon and Liu were scheduled to leave the country on Saturday. For that reason, they were all supposed to close up Phantom early on Friday and have dinner together.
It wasn’t just dinner that was the problem; the trip to New York might be canceled, too. In a single moment, everything had been thrown into an abyss of uncertainty where he couldn’t see an inch ahead.
Swallowing the desperate impulse to throw a confession at the two of them, Yeehyeon slowly nodded. He then picked up the still-unpacked backpack he had propped in a corner next to the bed. The bag felt heavier than when he had packed it.
“Thanks for the gift.”
He turned at the hand that gently squeezed his shoulder to see Yuni smiling wistfully. She was talking about the travel souvenirs that no one had taken last time, which Yeehyeon had brought today.
“I just brought them… The Representative is the one who bought them….”
“That’s right. They’re from the Representative….”
Muttering this, Yuni seemed to be counting the long list of opportunities and considerations Liu had given her. Even if Manager Han had told her it wasn’t a betrayal, Yuni’s heart couldn’t be put at ease all at once. But Yeehyeon could be sure that Liu hadn’t provided all those opportunities just to tie Yuni’s or Juhan’s labor to Phantom.
No, at this point, he could no longer speak of Liu with such familiarity. Not only that, but he had now been pushed away, becoming a distant, hazy being belonging to a realm of utter chaos and the unknown.
After a long time spent persuading Juhan and Yuni not to drive him home, Yeehyeon was finally able to leave the officetel. The thought that they might contact Liu, or that Liu might contact them, crossed his mind, but a sense of reckless abandon, a what-will-be-will-be attitude, cut such worries short.
He had absolutely no leeway to restrict his actions by considering that someone might worry about him. Even without a proper grasp of the situation, a faint rebelliousness toward Liu was blooming, and whether Liu worried or not, he wanted to think only of himself right now.
The night air, with October drawing near, was chilly. The wind that rushed between the massive high-rise buildings made his shoulders hunch. But the thought of putting on the jacket in his hand didn’t even occur to him.
Once he parted with Yuni and Juhan and was alone, it was time to deal with the problem. He had to properly recognize and grasp what had happened. This wasn’t an issue of perspective or a passive attitude toward life. It was something happening to his physical body, so he couldn’t pretend not to know.
Haa….
Sitting on the edge of a high planter in front of the officetel, Yeehyeon let out a sigh laced with confusion and covered his face with both hands. After rubbing his face so hard his skin stung, he pulled his phone from his jeans pocket.
Who should he call? He didn’t need to think for long; there were fewer than ten numbers saved in his meager contacts list.
He stared down at the name saved as ‘A-Wei,’ which had previously been ‘Representative-nim,’ and rubbed his thumb over it for a long time. Yeehyeon himself didn’t know if he was trying to caress the memory represented by that name, or if he wanted it to be erased.
○
“Yeehyeon-ssi.”
He lifted his head at the urgent voice. In-woo, who had pulled his car right up to the curb, was walking quickly toward him, almost running. Yeehyeon awkwardly pushed himself off the planter and stood up.
“I’m sorry, so suddenly….”
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s really okay.”
In-woo didn’t press Yeehyeon, who stood looking down at the floor, chewing on his lip and fiddling with the shoulder strap of his bag. He didn’t crack his usual silly jokes or grin foolishly, either. The moment Yeehyeon had abruptly called and asked if he could stay the night, he had already acted in a way that was a far cry from his usual self. That alone must have been enough for In-woo to sense that the situation was serious.
Keeping his gaze lowered toward the tips of his shoes, Yeehyeon tightened his grip on the bag strap.
“I’m really sorry, but I… I don’t have anywhere to go right now…. It’s not that I don’t want to be with Hyung and Noona… It’s just, my thoughts are so complicated right now….”
“Yeehyeon-ssi, you don’t have to explain. Let’s just go.”
In-woo cut off Yeehyeon’s rambling, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.
“……”
But Yeehyeon couldn’t follow the pull on his shoulder toward the car and remained rooted to the spot. Taking the small shopping bag Yeehyeon was holding, In-woo let out a short breath.
“I won’t… tell Weikun.”
Only then did Yeehyeon slowly raise his head to meet In-woo’s eyes, and this time, he followed the pull on his shoulder and started walking.
In between driving, In-woo kept glancing at Yeehyeon in the passenger seat, but he didn’t ask a single thing. Though he felt his gaze, Yeehyeon pretended not to notice, casting a dazed look at the scenery outside the car window and chewing on his dry, chapped lips. He mocked himself for the all-too-familiar thought… the wish that he could just run away somewhere far, where he wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone or face any problems.
Just as he had said at the Phantom party once, the night view of Seoul literally spread out beneath the living room window of In-woo’s 32nd-floor apartment. Yeehyeon was thinking that the scenery had a different character from the view from the second floor or rooftop of Liu’s house, but not wanting to entertain any thought connected to him, no matter how trivial, he stood right up against the floor-to-ceiling window and poured out his admiration for the nightscape.
“Glad you like the view, but… you should put your bag down. Got something precious in there?”
In-woo, who had emerged from the kitchen with two glasses, met his eyes through the window from behind and chuckled. Yeehyeon smiled sheepishly, slid the backpack off his shoulder, and took the glass offered to him. In-woo’s glass held whiskey on the rocks, but Yeehyeon’s portion was warm milk. The same thing Liu had brought him after seating him in the bathtub, trembling, on that rainy summer night when his uncle had shown up.
“Um, hyung, if it’s okay with you, could I also have….”
“Ah… I don’t have any beer at home right now….”
“I can drink whiskey, too.”
Yeehyeon pressed his lips together, thinking he was acting like a child who, in an attempt to prove he could do everything adults do, only revealed his own green immaturity. He belatedly regretted it as he watched In-woo’s back disappear toward the kitchen with the glass of milk, a smirk on his face as he ruffled Yeehyeon’s hair, but he didn’t bother to call him back.
Yeehyeon himself was just as bewildered by his series of out-of-character words and actions. The unexpected behaviors that kept popping up, breaking free from inertia and control, reminded him of a game of Whac-A-Mole. But he couldn’t muster the will to swing the hammer to catch the moles that taunted him as they moved from spot to spot.
Sweeping a hand over his face, Yeehyeon turned his head, and his gaze stopped on the easel and art supplies scattered messily in the corner behind the sofa, where two floor-to-ceiling windows met.
The piece on the canvas seemed to be more than halfway colored. It was somewhat different from In-woo’s usual style, which typically layered a bizarre atmosphere onto a cheerful, cartoonish drawing that mainly used warm colors.
This was far more bold and direct. And yet, it contained a richer story and more emotion than usual. He couldn’t sense the usual intent to dilute the weight of his inner world with witty jokes. As if fed up with avoidance and denial disguised as nonchalance, the desperate struggle of a man, thrashing about naked on the canvas, captivated the eye.
“Yeehyeon-ssi, come over here.”
In-woo, standing at the long, wide dining table between the sofa and the kitchen—a table that could easily accommodate a banquet for ten—raised his glass and called to Yeehyeon.
“Were you… working on a painting?”
“I’m usually the type who can draw just fine even if someone’s staring right next to me, but the thought of you looking at it makes me feel strangely shy.”
“I didn’t know you painted at home.”
“I’m not someone who’s bet everything on art enough to need a separate studio. Like someone said.”
Placing the tray he’d brought from the kitchen onto the table, In-woo lifted only his eyes to glance at Yeehyeon and smiled. Yeehyeon had a feeling he knew who the ‘someone’ he was referring to was, but he only lifted the corners of his mouth slightly and didn’t react otherwise. Receiving the glass with three or four ice cubes and a pour of whiskey, Yeehyeon sat down across from In-woo.
“The feel of your work seems a little… different.”
“You’re a real fortune-teller when it comes to art. Like someone said.”
It felt like he was bringing up Liu a bit intentionally, repeatedly, so this time, Yeehyeon couldn’t bring himself to smile along with In-woo. Lowering his gaze, he stroked the glass in his hand before slowly letting the alcohol flow into his mouth, as if drinking hot coffee.
Leave a Reply