I tried my best to smile, but to Jun, it might have looked worse than crying. With a look of regret for having asked, Jun hurriedly brought up another topic, deliberately raising the tone of his voice.
“Hyung, do you have any plans for Christmas? Are you going out with Yuni-noona?”
Yeehyeon stroked the surface of his mug, smiled, and shook his head. The three of them still occasionally had meals or drinks together, but now, Michelle and Yuni were an official couple who could go on dates naturally without needing to include Yeehyeon.
“Then… will you be attending the ‘The Hands’ party again, like last year?”
“Mm, unless something comes up, I probably will.”
‘Late Bloomer’ was also preparing a small party, but that was a few days before Christmas. The party held by ‘The Hands’ on Christmas Eve was an official event, inviting sponsors, clients, and friends of the gallery who, while unable to purchase paintings, frequently visited the exhibitions. As such, all affiliated artists were encouraged to attend unless they had special plans.
“What about New Year’s? You saw the Arc de Triomphe countdown last year…. Are you interested in a private party, by any chance? It’s nothing grand, just a ticketed event at a bar. A friend of mine works there. It’s on the second floor near the Eiffel Tower, so the atmosphere should be nice.”
“Uh… I might have other plans then.”
“Oh, really? Well, can’t be helped. Ben seems to be lazing around these days, so I’ll ask him to go with me.”
Jun seemed quite curious about what sort of vague plan this was, one that might or might not exist, but he simply sipped his coffee in silence and didn’t ask about it.
But there was nothing more Yeehyeon could say, either.
He had sent the message, but the man was not an idle person. He might not be in a situation where he could come running just because he received a painting, and maybe… maybe he was tired of it all by now, and my message might not have stirred any emotion in him at all.
I had faith that the latter wasn’t the case, but I couldn’t help the two percent of anxiety I felt.
“Are you bothering Yeehyeon again?”
The kitchen-slash-dining room door flew open. It was Ben. Walking past Jun, he cupped his chin and rubbed it roughly, like a mischievous older Hyung teasing his youngest sibling. As Jun pushed his hand away in annoyance, Yeehyeon smiled and said.
“Jun made me dinner.”
Ben, who was pouring the remaining coffee from the machine into a mug, glanced this way.
“Beef bourguignon?”
Did he know by the smell? Yeehyeon nodded, a little surprised. Ben snickered as if to say, ‘I knew it,’ and leaned against the shelf, bringing the mug to his lips.
“So this is what you were practicing so much to make for him.”
“Ah, Ben!”
Jun, his face flushing red all the way to his neck, turned to Ben and snapped, but Ben didn’t seem to care much as he walked over to the table with his mug and ruffled Jun’s hair.
“Are you going out somewhere?”
To change the subject for the embarrassed Jun, Yeehyeon asked Ben this time. He had been curious anyway, as Ben was dressed in uncharacteristically neat attire.
“Going for an interview.”
Ben answered nonchalantly as he sat down, leaving one chair between himself and Jun.
“An interview…?”
“A photographer’s studio is hiring an assistant, so I sent in my resume. The fact that they want to interview me at this hour makes it seem like we’ll be a good fit, don’t you think?”
“Suddenly… why a photographer’s studio?”
Jun asked hesitantly.
“I’ve been interested in photography for a while. For an animalistic and impulsive guy like me, photography might be a better fit than painting, which requires you to sit still and face yourself, don’t you think? If I become a fashion photographer, I can shoot a ton of pretty and handsome people, too.”
Ben spoke playfully, his arm draped over the back of his chair as he drank his coffee in his usual slouch.
“Why? You still have a few more months left. Or, has your departure been decided? Did you talk to Liu?”
“I can’t just keep squatting here when I’m not producing any results. I have to give the opportunity to people with more potential than me.”
Ruffling Jun’s hair, Ben spoke of it so matter-of-factly, as if it were someone else’s business, then stood up, washed his mug, and left the room without a second thought, telling them to wish him luck.
Jun, who had been struggling to definitively break out of his slump, seemed to feel this situation was not someone else’s problem, and he grew noticeably quiet afterward.
During the more than a year he had stayed at ‘The Hands,’ a few colleagues had left for failing to produce results, and a few new people had come to fill their places. There were those who gave up and left on their own despite still having a chance, and conversely, there were those who signed with major galleries within a few months and left early.
If the sole goal was to continue painting, it was sufficient as a hobby, but if one wanted to communicate with the world through their work, they needed to be recognized. That was something that could not be achieved by simply sitting alone in a room and focusing only on painting.
What Liu had done for his affiliated artists, and what a great fortune it was for an artist to meet a gallery like Phantom. He had come to realize this more clearly since coming here. But the cold reality was that not everyone could meet a dealer like ‘The Hands’ or Phantom.
Looking at Jun’s young, pensive face, Yeehyeon unconsciously moved his hand and brought the mug to his lips. The coffee, now cold, tasted a little more bitter than when it was warm.
○
The neo-Byzantine stained glass decorating the 33-meter-high dome-shaped ceiling was delicate and beautiful. The large tree erected beneath it amplified the splendor to its peak, making the department store itself seem like one giant Christmas tree. It felt like becoming part of a fantasy world, going beyond a mere visual impression of magnificence to something akin to fairytale magic crafted from material goods.
It was clearly a commercial ploy to stimulate the already excited spirits of people at the year’s end and make them open their wallets wider, but the people, all wearing expressions of happiness as if in a fabricated story, seemed ready and willing to be deceived by that ploy.
Feeling a slight sense of disconnect from the exaggerated atmosphere where everyone seemed affluent and everyone seemed happy, Yeehyeon quickened his pace toward the location he had checked in the pamphlet beforehand.
The cosmetics counter and the perfume counter of the same brand were separated into adjacent booths. Both counters were bustling with customers. Yeehyeon approached an employee dressed entirely in black and told him the name of the product he was looking for. All the employees were busy attending to customers, and it took more than five minutes just to get that chance.
The employee immediately led Yeehyeon to a display shelf and picked up a black bottle of perfume that gave off a solid impression. He skillfully spritzed a certain amount onto a tester strip, waved it a few times, and handed it to Yeehyeon.
The moment he smelled the scent, his heart pounded as if the man were standing right next to him. Even knowing it wasn’t his pheromone, the scent he had been so captivated by, the mere fact that it was a part of the fragrance that had emanated from him made his insides lurch as if someone had shaken him violently.
The employee standing beside him was explaining the characteristics of the perfume Yeehyeon was currently sampling in rapid French, but the words didn’t register.
It was definitely one of the several perfumes Liu used to mix. It was the one Yuni had guessed correctly on the day they all had a barbecue in his garden, saying she was sure she knew one of the perfumes he mixed.
Phantom pain alone was far from enough, and he had wanted to come buy this perfume several times since arriving here. But he hadn’t been confident that he wouldn’t crumble after being exposed to his actual scent.
Exhausted by the loneliness of being alone, unable to bear the desire to see him, because of the memories of their sweet times together… He didn’t want them to seek each other out again for those reasons.
If they were to meet again and speak of love, it had to be a decision based on an acceptance of the other’s existence and an understanding of the changes that situation would bring. If they decided to be together without that, the unresolved dregs would eventually seep out again, and they would repeat the cycle of resentment and hatred.
That was neither forgiveness nor love. He didn’t want to seek him out again merely to fill a sentimental hunger and treat his immediate pain.
Following the employee’s suggestion, Yeehyeon lightly sprayed the perfume on himself, then put the purchased perfume in his backpack and hurriedly left the department store. It was perhaps the most extravagant purchase he had made since coming to Paris, no, in his entire short life.
Because of the heavy snowfall, the metro was more crowded than usual. The area around the Canal Saint-Martin was in a festive mood.
Carols flowed from every café and pub, and everyone, adults and children alike, had flocked to the canal to have snowball fights or roll snow to make snowmen. Even if snow had become more common than before (there had even been a blizzard in April this year), heavy snow was still a rare sight in Paris.
On the road in front of ‘The Hands,’ a few little kids were running around, gathering the snow piled on parked cars and throwing it at each other. A little boy, about six or seven years old with a red wool hat pulled down over his head, shouted “Joyeux Noël! (= Merry Christmas!)” at Yeehyeon and grinned. Christmas was still a few days away, but it seemed the heavy snow had put him in the Christmas spirit. Smiling back and replying, “Joyeux Noël,” Yeehyeon brushed the snow from the shoulders of his coat and entered the building.
He’d thought he heard a clamor from the lobby, and sure enough, everyone was gathered in the second-floor living room, drinking beer. Yeehyeon took off his bag and coat and took the seat next to Jun.
“Where’s Ben?”
“…Not yet.”
Jun shook his head with a bitter expression. Gatherings like this were usually hosted by Ben, but after being rejected for the interview on the spot for lacking basic knowledge of cameras and on-site work, Ben had been hard to find for the past few days.
But less than ten minutes after Yeehyeon joined them, a pleasantly drunk Ben appeared. Bypassing other empty seats, he squeezed himself between the three people sitting on the three-seater sofa and pulled the already loose knot of his tie even further.
“Ah… I was lucky today! I saw that guy again, you know? With the heavy snow falling, I had a feeling I’d see him today for sure.”
Ben spoke theatrically, as if recounting a fateful love story. Judging by his clothes, it seemed he had gone for another interview today. His exaggerated excitement felt more like a reaction to his dejection.
“He was heading into the alley with the glasses shop. Maybe next time I’ll follow him home to see where he lives.”
To someone’s light rebuke that that was being a stalker, Ben shrugged as he twisted the cap off a beer.
“I’ve got nothing more to lose here, so what the hell, I’ll just follow him and make a move.”
“You said he seems to live in this neighborhood. Are you going to avoid him every time you run into each other? Don’t confess, it’ll just make things awkward for both of you.”
Someone else sitting next to Ben waved his hand, trying to dissuade him.
“Hey, why are you talking on the premise that I’ll definitely get rejected? Huh? That guy might be unrealistically handsome, but I’m still not too bad myself, you know?”
“You said he looks like a combination of only the best features of the East and West. You think just ‘not too bad’ is going to cut it with a guy like that?”
Yeehyeon set the beer he was drinking down on the table. Ben’s exaggerated ramblings about handsome men and beautiful women were a daily occurrence at ‘The Hands.’ But the story about the ‘handsome man he sometimes runs into at the cafe by the canal,’ which he had previously let pass without much thought, suddenly caught his ear.
“Hey, Ben, by any chance…”
“Yeah?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Yeehyeon shook his head and smiled at Ben, who had turned to look at him while pretending to choke the sculptor next to him.
He concluded that it couldn’t be, but once the suspicion began, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t a difficult task, and there was no harm in checking. Yeehyeon grabbed his coat and quietly slipped out of the room.
In that short time, the snowflakes had gotten much smaller, but it was still snowing.
It had only been about three days since he sent the painting, so there was no way it had arrived in Seoul yet. He had checked in the afternoon, and it was still in transit by air. Even if the painting had arrived, it would take more time for him to receive it and come all the way to Paris.
Even while his thoughts were clearly telling him this, his steps toward the alley Ben had mentioned were getting faster and faster. By the time he rounded the corner of the alley by the glasses shop, he was almost running.
“……”
He thought tears would fall, but laughter came first.
Just like in the past, when the clumsy heart that couldn’t skillfully suppress and control its joy at the sight of him would spill out as laughter. The feeling of smiling at him not just with his lips, but with his entire body.
Standing in the deserted alley, where orange streetlights sporadically illuminated the fluttering snow, the man, who had been about to light a cigarette, froze stiffly and took the cigarette from his lips, like someone who had encountered a ghost in a dead-end alley.
“To be on a stakeout… you’re a little too eye-catching, don’t you think?”
White breath plumed at the end of his panting breaths.
“……”
The man, who had been standing hesitantly at a distance, looking so flustered he seemed to want to run away, threw away the unlit cigarette in his hand and came closer. At his touch, as he unhesitatingly placed a hand on my face and stroked my cheek with his thumb, Yeehyeon realized he was crying.
He was alive.
The snowflakes slowly settling on his head, the faint, excited clamor from the direction of the canal, the sight of him filling his vision, and the feel of the real Liu Weikun’s touch on his cheek. Every sense was so painfully vivid that he felt he was alive.
I missed you.
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