Until their emotions subsided, or at least until they could hide them enough to appear so on the surface, they simply listened to the sound of the rain.
Yeehyeon, who had been resting his cheek against the nape of Liu’s neck, gently pushed against his chest with the hand that had been gripping his shirt and sat up. The car then slowly pulled away from the beach.
Neither of them said a word on the way back to the small clearing below the hill they had encountered a little while ago. Though Yeehyeon had an umbrella, Liu opened a large one he always kept in his trunk, as big as a parasol, and walked with Yeehyeon up the hill.
Even after they arrived at the front gate, neither could easily turn away. Yeehyeon stood close under the umbrella and looked up at him for a long time. In the days when he used to pass through this gate every day, he had never imagined a day would come when someone would enter so deeply into his life. It felt as if the present had abruptly intruded into the dead past.
Liu’s eyes were subdued as he looked at Yeehyeon. His will was firm, determined not to sway Yeehyeon by revealing the tender longing to reach out and touch him, or the lingering desire to be with him and hold him back.
“Drive… carefully.”
Smiling faintly, as if hearing those words from Yeehyeon was the most precious happiness in the world, Liu nodded.
When Yeehyeon crossed the narrow yard, stepped up onto the wooden veranda, and looked back, his umbrella was still jutting out over the gate. Tearing his gaze from the unmoving umbrella, he went into the room to find his father looking at his drawings, a lamp turned on at the low desk. It was the first time this had ever happened, but he was too physically and mentally exhausted to even have the energy to be surprised or moved.
The emotions he had focused solely on suppressing while with him slowly began to seep out. As he slid down with his back against the wall and sank to the floor, his vision blurred in an instant, as if it had been waiting.
He drew his knees up and rested his arms on them. When he lowered his head, tears, unable to bear their own weight, quickly fell onto his thighs. He clenched his fists, but he couldn’t completely stifle the sound of his sobs. Nevertheless, his father did not look back. But it didn’t matter. In fact, that was better.
Perhaps his father, who had experienced being apart from a loved one, knew that at a moment like this, there was no such thing as adequate comfort.
If one were to constantly summon the past into the present instead of burying it, perhaps the past could one day be reborn with a different form and meaning. A moment might come when a scar is transformed into a mark of character. But right now, not even such a hope could dilute the pain.
He wanted to open the door, run out, and follow him—who would still be at the gate, or couldn’t have gone far—and throw everything away to just embrace him. The sound of the rain, over a long time, very slowly began to fade.
○
The two had their hands tightly interlocked. Their shoulders were pressed together without a single gap. It didn’t seem like they were talking about anything particularly important, but every word from one was met with an enthusiastic reaction from the other. Even while putting the rented pocket Wi-Fi into the front pocket of his bag, the man did not let go of her hand. It was mid-October, but on each of their laps rested a summer hat woven from raffia. A man and a woman at the peak of happiness. They looked like a couple heading off on their honeymoon to a hot resort destination.
After finishing the check-in process, Yeehyeon sat on a nearby bench in case he was called over for an issue with his luggage. He had been watching the couple sitting across from him, just two steps away, without much thought, but he discreetly turned his gaze away when they began to whisper sweet nothings to each other.
A family of four just entering the airport, pushing a cart loaded with carriers; friends who looked to be in their early twenties, chattering and joking with excited faces despite the slow-moving check-in line; a foreign businessman in a hurry, clutching his passport and ticket, having likely arrived just in time… Yeehyeon, who had been looking around at the various people with interest, bent over, rested his chin on his thigh, and looked back at Yuni beside him.
She, who had seemed lost in thought with a slightly nervous expression, met his gaze and broke into a wide smile. When Yeehyeon smiled back, she reached out and ruffled his hair.
“The CEO said… he’ll be at Phantom late today because of the final inspection for the joint exhibition.”
She probably thought Yeehyeon was waiting for Liu. But Yeehyeon, to his own surprise, held no such expectation. He simply smiled faintly and nodded.
Yuni didn’t know, but the previous evening, Yeehyeon had gone to Phantom to see him.
When he went up to the second floor, Liu was standing in the center of the exhibition hall, right in front of the top of the stairs, contemplating the placement of the artworks. It was the place where they had first met. A strange feeling came over Yeehyeon, and instead of approaching him right away, he leaned against the railing and watched him for a moment.
When they first met, Liu had slowly come into view as he ascended the stairs, and Yeehyeon had been standing right where he was now, helping Yuni and Juhan. His first impression had been of an intense, overwhelming presence and a striking appearance that made him wonder if this was what a Golden Alpha was like. “How do you know Manager Han?” That was all he had been curious about back then.
Watching him scan the list of artworks in his hand, sleeves rolled up, fiddling with his eyebrow, Yeehyeon had even let out a soft laugh, struck anew by the extent of the change time had brought.
Liu, upon spotting Yeehyeon, had also offered an awkward smile and placed the file he was holding on the desk.
He had been staying with Juhan at his officetel since coming up from the East Sea three days ago, so this was the first time Yeehyeon had seen Liu since they parted at his grandfather’s gate.
“When I get there… I’ll contact you.”
After exchanging a few words about the works submitted for the exhibition, Yeehyeon had said this, stroking his arm. Liu, his lips pressed tightly together, had given a small nod. Just as Yeehyeon had nodded, knowing Liu’s words about coming to Paris to see him were a lie.
And then, Yeehyeon had kissed him first as he angled his gaze downward. As he grasped the back of his neck, pulled him in, and pressed their lips together, Liu’s chest had instantly tensed. When he tilted his jaw and rubbed against the soft membrane inside his lips, Liu cast aside his hesitation and wrapped his arms fiercely around his waist. It was an embrace that seemed to cast everything aside to seize Yeehyeon and Yeehyeon alone.
Liu’s breath had trembled and hitched as he ducked his head deep, burying himself in Yeehyeon until the tips of their noses were crushed together. Stroking his long hair, Yeehyeon had sucked hard on his lower lip, just as Liu had always done for him. From under his lowered eyelids, Liu had looked at him with a painful smile.
After sharing a kiss in a scent he would never forget, a scent he already missed, Yeehyeon had left Phantom and wandered the streets until late at night.
“Looks like there’s no problem. Shall we go in?”
Yuni, having confirmed that more than five minutes had passed, slung the crossbody bag she had set beside her over her shoulder and stood up first. Yeehyeon, with his backpack on, glanced around the still-crowded hall one more time, then followed Yuni toward the departure gate.
He felt as if Liu might be watching from somewhere, wearing the sunglasses he always kept tucked in his breast pocket. Even if that were true, he had no desire to find him and confirm it. Besides, even if it wasn’t actually happening, it was as good as if he were watching.
The flight to Charles de Gaulle Airport, with layovers in Shanghai and Amsterdam, was long, well over twenty-five hours, and the economy seat was cramped and hard, but Yeehyeon felt neither boredom nor discomfort. In the darkened cabin, lending his left shoulder to a sleeping Yuni, he thought of only one thing.
○
“I just did a final walkthrough of the exhibition hall. The layout is good.”
“I’ve been running a gallery for years. What’s so surprising?”
At Manager Han’s compliment, Liu brought the cigarette he had just tapped into the ashtray to his lips and responded dryly. Looking at his exhausted face, Manager Han gave a silent, bitter smile.
The day before the VIP opening, she had visited Liu’s house on the pretext of reports and meetings after finishing her own work outside, but in truth, she had stopped by more out of concern for him. As expected, he had just gotten home from work, having skipped dinner to bury himself in his tasks. He had barely touched the hamburgers Manager Han had brought. A few french fries were all he had swallowed.
“Since Yuni’s not here, I’ll go in by 9 tomorrow. You can come in around 10, Manager Han.”
“You have Juhan.”
“How can I trust that guy? It’s the first big event without Yuni, so I have to be there from the start to oversee everything.”
Liu stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette, straightened up from his loose lean against the table, and drank his beer. Having watched from the side what kind of time he had been through these past few weeks, Manager Han gathered her jacket and bag and got up from her seat instead of offering words of comfort.
“You took down the painting?”
Liu, who had been walking ahead, stopped in the middle of the living room and looked back. She was looking up at the spot above the sofa where ‘Isolation’ had hung. Liu shrugged once, then rubbed the back of his neck and let out a soft laugh. He turned first and headed for the entrance.
Manager Han, who lingered even after putting on her shoes, lightly tapped Liu on the stomach.
“Want to go out for a drink?”
“Are you pitying me?”
“Can’t I? You’re making a face that requires considerable pity.”
Liu chuckled, thrust his hands into his pants pockets, and leaned his shoulder against the hallway wall.
“Thanks, but I’m tired. I need to save up some energy if I’m going to make it through the after-party tomorrow.”
After Manager Han left, Liu returned to the dining room, cleared away the leftover food, and put the cups in the sink. He turned off the lights in sequence as he left the kitchen, dining room, and living room.
He climbed the stairs, faintly illuminated by the light spilling from the second floor, walked down the white-walled corridor, and entered the bedroom. He tilted his head back, massaging the nape of his neck. His eyes closed and a sigh escaped. The indirect lighting seeping from the hallway leading to the bathroom was all that lit the room, but he felt no need to make it any brighter.
Letting his arms fall limp, Liu looked around as if he were a person who had suddenly been robbed of his purpose and was now bewildered. Then, sweeping his bangs back, he walked to the refrigerator next to the sofa and poured whiskey into a glass until it was about half full. He sank onto the sofa and spun the high-backed armchair a half turn.
Letting the whiskey, with no ice, slide down his throat, he stared for a long time in the darkness at the single painting hanging on the wall directly opposite the bed.
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