In front of the large, bronze-framed mirror he had propped against the wall as a decorative piece, he checked his appearance one more time. He tucked the hem of his shirt into his pants and rolled the sleeves up to just below his elbows. Feeling he looked a bit too neat, he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up slightly. He undid the third button, then, wondering if his intention was too obvious, fastened it back to its original position with a self-deprecating smile.
It was strange even to himself how nervous he always got as this time approached. It was hard to breathe, and he needed to take a deep breath. Anyone who knew him would surely tease him if they saw him like this, saying it didn’t suit him.
Liu, sitting in front of his laptop, opened a bottle of red wine he kept for dessert—sweet, but with a rather high alcohol content. He poured it until the glass was about half full, then took a couple of sips to quench his thirst.
He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth as if in prayer and let out a long breath before finally connecting the call.
“……”
When the face he had been waiting for appeared on the black, still screen, the trembling stopped, and his shoulders relaxed. And without realizing it, a smile escaped his lips. Liu covered his mouth with a loosely clenched fist and cleared his throat with a couple of dry coughs.
“Have you been well?”
The face, moving unnaturally on the lagging screen, smiled and replied.
[We talked just a few hours ago.]
“But I couldn’t see your face then.”
Forgetting that the other person was also watching him through the lens at the top of the laptop monitor, his body kept leaning forward out of a desire to see the face on the screen more closely.
“Have you lost some weight?”
[I don’t think so….]
“Let me see you a little more clearly.”
They had a regular video call date every week at midnight when Friday turned to Saturday in Seoul (which was 5 PM in Paris), but that didn’t mean they didn’t have video calls at all during the week. However, due to their conflicting schedules and the time difference, long calls were usually difficult. Even though they heard each other’s voices whenever they had a spare moment each day and shared their daily lives by sending photos through messenger, the thirst was never quite quenched.
“Are you in Room 601 right now?”
[Yes. I came here so I could focus without being disturbed.]
Yeehyeon’s words, which brought to mind last week’s date that had to be cut short when Jun from the next room came over while they were in the middle of a heated, intimate conversation, made Liu smile silently as he fumbled for the wine glass beside his laptop.
The two of them called the studio Liu had prepared less than five minutes away from ‘The Hands’ “Room 601.” At first, they had started calling it that to distinguish it from Yeehyeon’s own studio, but now it had become a sort of nickname. The room was, in fact, number 601, but he also liked it because it felt like a code for lovers in a movie who always rented the same room in a shabby hotel on the outskirts of the city for their secret rendezvous.
Yeehyeon primarily lived in his own studio, but once or twice a week, he would spend time in Room 601, resting or sketching.
“Aren’t you cold?”
[I’ve closed the curtains and turned on the radiator.]
“There are sweaters and sweatshirts in the closet, so grab one if you feel chilly.”
[Yes, I know.]
His eyes fixed on Yeehyeon’s smile on the screen, Liu pulled his chair a little closer.
“What happened with your project with Ben? Tell me about it.”
[Um, it’s all the same as what I told you on the phone….]
Yeehyeon, on the other hand, leaned back slightly and wrapped his hands around his mug.
Having completed two new pieces that would be hung in the exhibition hall of ‘The Hands’ in about ten days, Yeehyeon had started a collaboration with Ben a few days ago. It was something Ben had proposed, inspired by Yeehyeon’s new series, ‘Journey of the Clouds’. It was a format where a photograph taken and graphically edited by Ben would be overlaid with Yeehyeon’s painting on a single canvas. It wasn’t a project where the theme or composition was planned together from the start, but rather an experimental and free-form work that progressed in a relay-like exchange.
The harmony and conflict that arise naturally and unexpectedly in the process of people influencing each other, and the new energy and direction resulting from it. That itself was as good as the theme.
Clearing his throat with a dry cough, Liu deliberately adopted a more relaxed posture and spoke.
“You must have been tired from finishing your latest pieces, are you sure you’re okay….”
[You know I work on a regular schedule. Regardless of the exhibition schedule, my daily workload is constant, so I’m not overdoing it. It’s my first time doing a collaboration, so it’s also fun….]
Hmm. Liu’s hand unconsciously reached for the wine glass. The ring on his left hand clinked against the glass, making a frictional sound. It wasn’t a loud noise, but Liu habitually stroked the ring on his fourth finger with his left thumb before gripping the glass again.
It was a relief that Ben, who had been suffering from a long slump and was even considering leaving ‘The Hands,’ had found the will to create, but it was also true that his mind had been preoccupied ever since he heard about this collaboration from Yeehyeon last Tuesday.
[You were the one who told me to talk to him first.]
He had tried to be careful, but it seemed his silence had gone on for too long. Seeing Yeehyeon’s crestfallen face and hearing his voice on the screen, Liu put down his glass and quickly brightened his expression.
“I didn’t say anything.”
[…….]
But Yeehyeon didn’t seem to be fooled. Liu ran a hand over his face and laughed awkwardly.
“Was it that obvious?”
[That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you.]
“No, I’m kidding. How many years have I been in the art world? You don’t think I can’t even understand my partner’s collaboration, do you?”
Still, as if his suspicion hadn’t completely vanished, Yeehyeon tilted his head and glanced at the screen.
“Of course, I welcome your active artistic endeavors, but I’m worried you’ll hurt your health. That’s all. It’s not like I can… be there to take care of you….”
It was by no means a lie. If he had been right there beside him, he wouldn’t have been this concerned.
[I’m young and healthy.]
“Right, your self-management is something I should learn from… I trust you. I do, but I can’t help but worry. I’ll be cheering for you, Mr. Seo Yeehyeon. I won’t be jealous. Don’t be upset. Okay?”
When he spoke in a coaxing, affectionate tone with a hint of playfulness, Yeehyeon finally let out a small laugh.
[It’s not that I… dislike the jealousy.]
“Yeah, I know.”
A smile also appeared on Liu’s face as he watched the smile that kept breaking up unnaturally on the screen.
“I miss you.”
It was a murmur that had escaped him without his realizing it, more of a thought to himself than a confession to Yeehyeon.
Sometimes, the fact that he wasn’t by his side felt not just empty, but strange. Whether he was sitting in on a study session with Juhan and the youngest members as a sort of advisor, looking at exhibitions in other galleries with Manager Han, or socializing at tea parties or dinners at a client’s invitation… he would suddenly be struck by an anxiety that he was wasting time, missing the most important thing.
[We’ll see each other soon….]
Yeehyeon rubbed his arm and bit his lower lip slightly. That characteristic shy expression made Liu miss him even more.
“Yeah, I know that too… but I still miss you.”
He didn’t ask the nagging question of whether Yeehyeon missed him too. Because he knew that the feeling of missing him was not absent from his heart.
“I talked about you for a bit with Manager Han today.”
[What did you talk about?]
“She was curious about what plans the artist Seo Yeehyeon has for when he’s no longer affiliated with ‘The Hands.’ Since you’re an artist any gallery would want to work with right now. Especially Manager Han.”
Yeehyeon just smiled shyly, but neither Liu nor Manager Han thought he absolutely had to return to Phantom after ‘The Hands.’ As he had told him when he proposed, if Yeehyeon wanted to gain more experience both personally and as a painter, Liu himself would not make any gesture that might sway his decision. They couldn’t live at a distance like this forever, so he was prepared to sort out his surroundings and start a new life according to Yeehyeon’s future path.
“She’s not asking outright, but… she seems to be wondering what on earth I did wrong to cause you to have such a blank period. And about the ring, too.”
Watching the neat face nod carefully, Liu drank more wine to suppress the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
“I know this isn’t something we can keep hiding, and I don’t think we should… but it’s not an easy decision since it’s not just my fault that will be revealed.”
[…….]
“I know this is an uncomfortable topic… but I didn’t bring it up to weigh on your mind.”
[I know.]
“Hiding things from you and making decisions on my own. No matter how trivial the matter may seem, or even if it’s something that might trouble you for the moment, I’ve decided I will never keep any secrets from you again.”
To lighten the mood of the date he had waited for all week, Liu added a joke with a deliberately serious expression.
“Even the number of times I masturbate while thinking of you.”
[You can keep the number of times you masturbate a secret.]
Thankfully, Yeehyeon laughed.
“You’ll let me off the hook?”
[I’ll let you off the hook.]
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