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Paris to Incheon. Flight AF0268.
Arrived at the terminal at 06:19, 24 minutes behind schedule.
The moment he stepped out of the airport gate, the wind rushed at him, violently shaking the hem of his coat. With only a few days left in the year, the weather in Seoul, heading into the dead of winter, was harsh.
He had given his muffler and gloves to Yeehyeon, nagging him to stay warm, but compared to this place, the weather in Paris felt like a spring day. But Liu, tightly gripping his phone in his right pocket and fiddling with the ring on his ring finger with his thumb in his left, didn’t even feel the need to pull the collar of his coat shut.
With only a single Boston bag for luggage, Liu had been following the driver, but as soon as he spotted the car, he quickened his pace and overtook him. He wanted to talk on the phone at his leisure and had been holding back the urge to call from the moment the plane had fully landed, so he could wait no longer.
[Have you arrived?]
As if he had been waiting for the call, Liu heard Yeehyeon’s voice before the second ring had finished.
“Yeah, I just got in the car.”
Only after hearing Yeehyeon’s voice could Liu finally relax his shoulders and lean loosely into the warm seat. He’d had this anxiety that once he left him and returned to Korea, everything that had happened there would become as if it never had.
[You must be tired. Did you get some sleep on the plane?]
“Mm… no. I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
[Why not?]
Yeehyeon asked with concern, but Liu didn’t feel tired at all. He felt as if he could go on for the next few days without any sleep.
“I was excited because everything in Paris felt like a dream, and I couldn’t sleep thinking about the present Seo Yeehyeon sent waiting for me at home.”
[…]
Yeehyeon was silent on the other end of the line, but Liu could perfectly picture his faint smile. A series of sounds followed—something being set down on a table, a chair scraping against the wooden floor—as if he had made a cup of tea and sat down at his desk. Even such trivial noises were pleasant to hear.
The car was entering the Yeongjong Bridge. Liu, who had been gazing out the window at the West Sea, looked down at his left hand and smiled.
“You have no idea how many looks I got because of this ring just while moving through the airport.”
From the airline counter, through the departure process, in the lounge while waiting for boarding, and even on the plane. He recounted, a little more animatedly than usual, just how many men and women’s gazes had shifted from his face to his finger. And judging by their expressions, just how effective this one little ring was.
“I never knew before. That so many people were looking at me.”
[Saying you didn’t know sounds even more obnoxious. How could you not know? Or maybe you just got used to it since you were a kid….]
Hearing Yeehyeon’s voice trail off as he mumbled to himself at the end, Liu burst out laughing.
“But now, I’ve come to need those gazes.”
[…]
“I wanted someone to notice I was wearing a ring. So as I watched people, I realized that they were watching me, too.”
At the unusual topic of conversation, with the word ‘ring’ appearing repeatedly, Liu could feel even the driver, who never reacted to what happened in the back seat, flinch and stiffen.
[Anyone who didn’t know would think it’s a ring I gave you, sir.]
“You did give it to me. You gave me permission to wear it.”
[…]
“Seo Yeehyeon, you remember our promise, right? I’m this happy, so don’t feel guilty.”
[Yes.]
“I’m so giddy right now I can’t think straight, to the point where I should probably avoid driving myself for a while.”
He heard Yeehyeon let out a soft laugh over the phone.
He didn’t want him to feel any pressure in this relationship because of him. When the moment came that his heart moved naturally, he would take the other ring out of the box himself. Just as he had when he had forgiven himself.
Until then, all Liu had to do was love him. Loving him was something he would do for the rest of his life. There was no reason to be impatient.
After the call ended and Yeehyeon was gone from the other end of the line, Liu now grew restless. He was beyond expectant, almost fearful, of what Yeehyeon’s gift waiting at home might be.
Unable to wait for the brief stop as the parking garage door opened, Liu got out of the car first. He had no patience, making him wonder how he had endured the roughly 11-hour flight. Entering the garage ahead of the car, Liu opened the door leading to the underground studio Yeehyeon had used.
“……”
He had been personally cleaning and maintaining the basement himself. He didn’t want it to become desolate, as spaces left empty for a long time without their owner tend to do, so he would read books, finish up work, and sometimes even take a bath alone here. But no matter how much time passed, the one thing he could not do was sleep here alone.
He wondered what had happened while he was away for a few days; the damp darkness that he could never seem to get rid of no matter how hard he tried to maintain the space had melted away, and the space was filled with white sunlight, just like in the days when Yeehyeon had stayed here.
Forgetting his hurry, Liu slowly looked around the studio for a moment, then smiled silently and fiddled with the ring on his left ring finger. Perhaps it had already become a habit.
He bounded up the stairs to the upper floor, taking them two or three at a time, and gradually slowed his steps at the entrance to the living room. Next to the sofa, leaning against the wall that divided the dining area and the living room, was a meticulously wrapped box.
He had been so curious that time on the plane had seemed to pass slower than ever. But now that it was right in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to touch it, wanting to savor it.
After showering, changing his clothes, and making coffee, he spent a long time just pacing back and forth in front of it. It wasn’t until the afternoon that Liu finally opened the package.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped through his clenched lips.
As if feeling actual pain, Liu bent his back slightly, narrowed his shoulders, and furrowed his brow.
The reason why Yeehyeon, upon finding him on a snowy Paris street at night, had smiled without hesitation. And the reason why he had immediately shown tears and begged him not to go.
There were two canvases in the box.
The two canvases, each about a meter square, had the same painting on them. The unique texture created by using various materials and different tones of blue bore the characteristic style of Yeehyeon’s work, but its nature was different from his previous works since moving to ‘The Hands,’ which had a strong pop-art character with irregular and bold arrangements of specific subjects like people or objects.
When he saw only the first piece in the front, he didn’t know what the combinations of various blues were meant to convey. It was only after seeing the second piece that Liu realized it was the sea.
The two works were so precisely identical they could have been factory-produced. To combine the exact same colors and replicate the same work was a difficult task even for the artist who created it. Most artists would say they would rather paint a new piece. It was a task that required considerable patience and precision, in place of the burden of creation.
On the second piece, painted so identically, there was, unlike the first, a very small person, about the size of a fingertip, in the bottom right corner of the work.
Because he was wearing only swimming trunks and surfing, Liu knew it was the sea.
The moment he realized it was the sea, he had the experience of the first piece, which had been an abstruse image of blue, expanding in his mind. The moment the second painting made him recognize it as the sea, the infinity that the sea possesses was projected onto the painting, making him reinterpret the meaning of the first painting.
Placing the two works side by side, Liu stared at them for a long time before opening an envelope that had come out of the box. On the postcard-sized card, which looked like Yeehyeon had drawn on the front himself, only a single line was written.
‘Colorful Ghost — Him and I’
The singular title, with the ‘s’ crossed out from ‘Colorful Ghosts,’ caught his eye.
Standing in the afternoon living room, where sunlight shone deep inside, Liu was unable to move for a very long time.
That was Liu Wikhun as seen by Seo Yeehyeon.
It was what Seo Yeehyeon wanted to convey about his feelings for him, his decision, his forgiveness.
The figure in the painting was extremely small in proportion to the entire work and thus very simply rendered, but one could tell he was feeling a sense of freedom on the sea, like the sand he had seen in Bali, as if the waves were carrying him.
Like a sea that gives freedom. That was how Yeehyeon had described him, but Liu’s thoughts were the opposite.
What turned the blue image into a sea, what gave color to a formless ghost… was the power of the person who floated the board and rode the waves, the person who saw the ghost’s face and listened to the ghost’s words.
There was no need to write a long story on the card. He was already conveying what he wanted to say in the language most comfortable for him.
Liu gripped his left hand, the one with the ring, tightly with his right. After he had left, the living room, which had been like bone-dry sand, was now filled with surging blue waters and white waves.
○
“Sir. Sir?”
“Huh.”
Liu, who had been resting his chin on his right hand and tapping the table with his left, his gaze alternating between his watch and his ring, turned his head at Juhan’s voice calling him from right next to his ear.
“The candidates for the coffee bean supplier. I’ve narrowed it down to five, and I was saying we should go check them out together during the construction period. You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Ah… sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
“Something else? You were just spacing out while looking at your ring.”
The two youngest employees sitting opposite them bowed their heads, making strange noises as they tried to suppress the laughter that was about to burst out.
“If it’s funny, just laugh, you punks.”
Liu said with resignation, then deliberately put his weight on Juhan’s shoulder to push himself up from his seat.
“Keep eating. I’m just going to step out for a smoke.”
As he left the dining room, he heard the guys whispering behind his back that ‘the cigarette is obviously just an excuse,’ but Liu just smiled. It was true, after all, and it wasn’t unpleasant to hear.
The temperature was low, but it was midday, so there was plenty of sunlight on the front terrace. Confirming that it was exactly 2 PM in Korea, Liu made the call.
“Good morning.”
The sound of Yeehyeon’s voice, still laced with sleep, laughing softly as he rubbed his eyes on the other end of the line, was pleasant.
[Mm… for you, Kun… good afternoon.]
“Ah, an afternoon of getting an earful from Kwon Juhan.”
He said, feigning hardship, as he stood before the terrace railing and stuck one hand in the back pocket of his jeans.
[The study group?]
“Yeah. At first, I thought he just wanted to act like a senior to the new guys, but watching him, he’s quite serious.”
Saying he couldn’t just sit around and do nothing during the three months of paid leave he got thanks to the construction, Juhan had been holding a weekly study group with the two youngest employees, who had joined the year before last, to study the latest trends in the art world since the beginning of the year.
“He asked to borrow my place to save money on buying coffee at a café, and now they’re ordering jajangmyeon.”
Laughter tinged Yeehyeon’s voice at Liu’s grumbling.
[He seems to be studying coffee diligently these days, too.]
Saying he couldn’t afford to hire a separate café staff, Juhan had also started studying coffee last month. Although Phantom was supporting the cost of his barista certification, his own passion was greater than expected.
“It feels like watching the return of the prodigal son. He’s been quite a help lately.”
[I was actually really worried about him after he was separated from his Noona, so that’s a relief.]
“I know. I thought I knew that guy well, but I guess I was arrogant.”
As Liu propped the phone up by hiking one shoulder and let out a soft laugh while taking out a cigarette, Yeehyeon laughed along. It seemed Yeehyeon was more or less awake now.
[I didn’t get to tell you last night, but. I think a new work will be exhibited in two weeks.]
“Really?”
His voice rising at the end, Liu pulled the cigarette from his lips and dragged a frigid outdoor chair over to sit down.
[Will you come see it? It’s been about a month since we’ve seen each other….]
“Are you saying you miss me?”
He couldn’t help the smile that filled him from within and overflowed, with nowhere left to hold it.
After a moment’s hesitation, Yeehyeon spoke clearly and without faltering.
[Yes, I miss you. I’d like it if you came here.]
“……”
Doubting his own ears, the smile momentarily vanished from Liu’s face. The next moment, he collapsed, resting his arms on the table as if crumbling.
“I think I just smelled your pheromones.”
[…]
This time, there was silence from the other side. He could vividly picture Yeehyeon’s face, his neck and the rims of his ears flushed red. Liu pushed himself up from the table and swept his hair back. He missed him. Now that he thought he could see him soon, he missed him even more.
“So, the exhibition schedule is roughly set… can I hear about the work now? Tell me either the material or the theme. Huh? Is it the next piece after ‘Colorful Ghosts’?”
[Um… it’s not that.]
“Oh?”
[Yes, and I think this will probably continue as a series, too.]
“I’m curious.”
[It’s a painting of a little cloud about to leave its room and start a journey… and as I was painting it, I found myself wanting to actually draw it traveling to different places.]
So that Yeehyeon wouldn’t notice his surprise, Liu silently wet his lips with his tongue, then wiped the area around his mouth with his palm.
He didn’t know if Yeehyeon was conscious of it himself, but Liu could feel it. A little cloud about to leave its small room and start a journey. Yeehyeon was now trying to translate his own story into his paintings. He had completely reclaimed his own language.
Liu shifted his posture and cleared his throat so Yeehyeon wouldn’t notice.
“Speaking of which, since the new work is done…”
He could feel his attentive breathing.
“I’ve been thinking about the 100 million won that remains between us.”
[…]
“Starting with this piece, I’d like you to stop sending me money.”
As expected, Yeehyeon couldn’t respond right away.
[But that has nothing to do with our other affairs….]
“At that time, the moment I saw you trembling in front of my house, I was already losing my mind, and I wanted to help you with whatever hardship you were facing… but in a corner of that heart, there was definitely a calculation that I might be able to tie you to me a little more through this. That’s why this money… doesn’t feel right to me. I haven’t been able to touch any of the money you’ve sent so far. The same goes for the money from Bali. It… didn’t feel like it was my share of the money.”
Liu looked down at the shining ring on his left hand, which rested on the table. He just hoped that the ring on this hand could be a little more honorable.
“How about I add the rest to the money you’ve sent so far, and we donate that 100 million won to organizations that promote understanding between genders, like for ‘late presentation,’ and for people struggling with their gender?”
[Ah….]
“It will be a meaningful thing for me, too. When it comes to the loneliness and pain one has to endure because of one’s disposition, I know a thing or two myself.”
Yeehyeon was silent for a moment. Liu waited without rushing him, basking in the sun.
[Thank you. That’s a really meaningful thing for me, too. I’m probably… the only person in the world to have ‘presented late’ in such a unique way.]
At Yeehyeon’s words, Liu smiled, his lips pulling up silently. He didn’t think this meant he had shed everything. Rather, it was just the beginning.
After finishing the call, Liu let out a long, thin breath and lowered his tense shoulders.
They shared their daily lives through several short calls a day, and were together at the moments before each other fell asleep and upon waking… but calls with Yeehyeon still required a slight tension.
It wasn’t because he felt indebted to him, as Yeehyeon worried. It was because he never wanted to love him wrongly again, and he didn’t want to grow lax under the guise of comfort.
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