As we entered the tunnel, the sound of the rain cut off as if by a lie. After the earlier laughter had eased some of my tension, my thoughts drifted to the cigarettes I’d kept in my backpack.
I rummaged through my pocket and handed him a green pack of cigarettes. He looked back and forth between the cigarettes and me, his eyes asking what this was.
“Well… at the hotel, I smoked one of them.”
“……”
His eyes widened slightly. A mischievous smile, like one who had just witnessed a child’s cheeky prank, slowly spread across his face. Even though I’d told him that since I was an adult, the decision to smoke was mine.
“I kept them with me because I was planning to give you a pack when I got to Seoul, but I couldn’t find the right time….”
When I apologized for taking one without asking permission, he joked that it was just one cigarette, and that if he could receive this kind of interest, he was always welcome to it. With the same deadpan face he’d had a moment ago, devoid of any laughter.
He took the cigarettes, but instead of putting them down somewhere, he held them for a moment, rolling them back and forth in his hand that rested on the steering wheel. The sharp lines of his profile, which looked neat yet seemed as if they wouldn’t permit any rash approach, appeared to be deep in thought.
In the meantime, the tunnel ended, and we were once again cast out into the rain.
The silence inside the car was more frightening than the angry torrent of rain outside. The void that fell upon us, now that we were alone, reminded me of the past three days at Phantom after returning from Hong Kong, when we had faced each other.
He had returned to Korea a day after me, on Tuesday, and had only come to work as normal on Wednesday morning.
On the rare occasions he gave me work instructions directly, he was impassive. At least, that’s how he seemed. There were no moments where he looked at me with any deeper meaning, or where his gaze lingered on me longer than necessary.
Conversely, there were moments when our eyes would meet when I, deep in concentration, would shift my posture and lift my head without thinking, but that was all.
Contacting the shipping agent for the paintings sold at the fair, creating pamphlets to promote the art fair’s successful results to our existing clients in Seoul—he and I had simply worked at our respective desks. Just as we had before.
“You smoked my cigarettes, what else did you do for fun?”
“……”
So I hadn’t expected him to bring up that day, even in this way. This time, it was my eyes that widened. A faint trace of amusement colored his voice.
“I heard you couldn’t even finish a bowl of wonton soup, and you didn’t get a massage. That you didn’t budge from your room.”
I wanted to get some fresh air, but it was obvious that the moment I lowered the window even slightly, the rain would pour onto my lap as if it had been waiting.
I fiddled with the seatbelt across my chest as if to tear it, my lips parted and closed as if I were about to say something, and in the end, I let out a short sigh and simply shut my mouth.
I was completely unprepared and unfortified for what expression and tone to use when talking about that day in a mundane moment like this, not when sexual impulse was pulling taut between us.
The intersection he had mentioned was already drawing near.
As if giving up on hearing my answer, he brought up something else.
“This might sound a little funny, but.”
“……”
“Want to join for a second round?”
He asked casually, slowing down to wait at the intersection’s traffic light.
“I’m taking two more days off, and I don’t think we have to rush off tonight since we have plenty of time to spend together. You said your Hyung and Noona are off this weekend, too.”
Forgetting my awkwardness, I met his eyes.
He, who seemed like he would be picky about who he let in and would never hold on to someone who was leaving, was now talking as if to hold on to me, asking me to join him for a second round.
I searched every corner of his mysterious eyes for the hope or hint that I wanted.
For a fleeting moment, a shiver ran down my spine at his scent, which had faintly brushed past amidst the smell of rain that heavily permeated the car’s interior. Though it was just for an instant, the scent immediately revived within me the intensity of the pleasure that had accompanied it. Flustered, I unconsciously covered my nose and mouth with my hand and turned my head away.
“It’s a get-together for the business trip, and it’d be a bit weird for someone to be missing.”
He added this as if he wanted to preemptively block any optimistic interpretation I might assign to his words. The ticklish feeling that seemed to be fluttering closer was, in the next moment, as intangible as a faint scent that brushes past one’s senses and vanishes.
In any case, it would be nearly impossible for me to read his intentions or thoughts. It could be because of the ten-year age gap, or the difference in experience that came with it. It could also be due to a more fundamental, personal difference. It was frustrating, but there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t as if I could go somewhere and rack up dating experience pretending to be a playboy.
“I’d like to, but… I have something important to talk about today.”
At my refusal, he narrowed his eyes and stared at me.
A car horn blared a short, irritated honk from behind. The light had changed. He drove the car toward the northwest hill.
After we returned, he hadn’t pestered or pressured me by asking if I’d thought about the painting. The Director was the same. It seemed that now that they had laid all their cards on the table, they were just waiting for me to take my time and decide for myself. But I knew I shouldn’t drag it out too long by relying on their consideration.
Perhaps today, Yeehan and Morae would tell me their decision. I, too, planned to state my position more clearly. On top of that, I intended to persuade them to begin preparations to leave for Bali right away, no matter what answer they gave.
I truly didn’t know if I could paint again.
But I couldn’t deny the desire to want to be able to paint, just because it was vague and faint. Vague and faint as it was, what existed could not become what didn’t.
Whatever the result, I intended to at least try.
Of course, the expectation that Yeehan and Morae could leave more easily if I picked up a brush again was part of the reason, but I had no intention of being hypocritical and pretending my choice was a sacrifice for others.
It was a decision that followed no one’s desire but my own, and I decided to try not to think of it as greed.
Because there were people who had shown me firsthand that listening to one’s own desires did not mean denying and crushing the desires of others, even someone as weak as me could build a foothold of faith.
It wasn’t that I had suddenly gained courage. It was the thought that I wouldn’t wait for courage to appear, but that I would take that first step, whatever it may be. Perhaps… courage would never come, even if I waited. The moment I took that first step, that itself would become courage.
A church of a magnificent scale, unsuited for this neighborhood, was gradually getting closer. In the pouring rain, it billowed a hazy mist over its massive, dark body, like an ominous castle from a horror movie set in the Middle Ages.
“That important talk, is it by any chance the kind of talk I can look forward to?”
“……”
I had made a decision, but I didn’t want to voice it before it had taken a completely distinct shape.
Instead of an answer, I fixed my gaze on his face, hoping he would understand that my current reticence was not hesitation, but a desire to be prudent.
As he slowly drove the car toward the bus stop in front of the stairs, he smiled faintly.
“You’re not one to open your mouth easily.”
He wasn’t wrong, so this time, I smiled faintly.
“On Monday… I’ll tell you.”
“Alright, then. I’ll be waiting.”
His words, that he would wait, were sweet. Even if the object of his anticipation was my answer and not me myself, that answer was still a part of me.
I barely managed to convince him not to carry my things up the stairs, even with the rain coming down so hard. My luggage was just two paper bags with packaged hot pot, and a backpack with a few small souvenirs from Hong Kong, like cookies and toothpaste.
The moment I opened the door, the downpour that had been following us all along surrounded us as if it had been waiting. It was a torrent of rain that looked like it would suck me in and swallow me whole at any moment.
As I stood there, waiting to leave after seeing him go, he gave a short, clipped honk, signaling for me to go first. When I still didn’t move, his car slowly began to move first. I smiled to myself and turned around, imagining him shaking his head with a sigh at my stubbornness.
I couldn’t tell for sure what my own heart wanted—if my slow, dull heart wanted to actually date him, or if it desired such an absurd position as… being his one and only.
Having no experience with even a one-sided crush, let alone a relationship, I had no information on myself—how I react when I like someone, how much and in what way I wanted him.
Until I became aware of it, the emotion was just a vague tremor.
The thirst began only after I became aware, but at the very least, it wasn’t a desperate impatience that made me feel like I would die if I couldn’t become his lover right this instant.
I believed I was still at a point where I could nullify the emotion.
I didn’t have the confidence to endure the pain of it becoming more serious and heavy, of spilling unreciprocated feelings in front of him, and discovering in him emotions with a different name than what I had—be it ridicule, pity, or a coldness called coolness.
For me, who had lived for several years in an absence of emotion, a heavy, one-sided love was out of my league. It was like making a skinny novice with no strength to speak of, who had just signed up for a gym, lift a 100-kilogram weight. There was no way I could endure it.
With a useless umbrella slung over my shoulder, one paper bag of hot pot hanging from the fingers of the hand holding the umbrella, and another in my other hand, I climbed the stairs, organizing my thoughts to think only of Morae, Yeehan, and the painting for today.
Click. I was switching it off, just as he had taught me.
On the stone steps, which lacked a proper drainage system, rainwater flowing down from above ran like a mountain stream. Because of the drop from step to step, not only my shoes but my calves were soaked through.
Morae and Yeehan had about an hour before they would arrive, so I planned to shower in the meantime and set the table with the hot pot he had packed for me. By the time I had climbed all 62 steps, which felt steeper than usual because of the rain, my back, where the backpack sat, was damp with humid sweat. Wiping the sweat from under my chin, I headed for the innermost gate.
Balancing the umbrella on my shoulder to keep it from turning inside out, I fumbled in my pocket for the gate key. In the narrow alley where half a dozen houses were crammed together, there was only the sound of rain hitting the umbrella. The newlyweds downstairs were quiet today, too.
The sound of the rain was deafening enough that I was completely unaware of the footsteps approaching from behind.
“……Is that you, Yeehyeon.”
“……”
There had been no trace of footsteps.
As if the rain had stopped dead, like a lie, the voice calling my name pierced clearly through the downpour and struck my ears.
My body froze before I could even turn to see who had spoken. My hand, with the key still in the gate, dropped into the air.
The tenacious, fishy smell of the sea, assailing me as if to say the pouring rain was nothing, as if to capsize a boat with a wave.
It was my uncle.
End of Volume 2
Leave a Reply