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“Juwon,” A voice calls out. “Are you listening?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Juwon blinks rapidly and turns to see Hyuk’s furrowed brows. He notices his fingers are wet from holding on to his drink for too long and it bothers him. The smell of strong alcohol emanates through the air and for some reason the dim, yellow-hued lights feel just a little too bright for Juwon’s liking.
“Are you okay?” Hyuk questions out of concern, but Juwon just looks at him, not quite out of his sudden trance just yet. He hasn’t seen Hyuk ever since his father’s final court hearing. Admittedly, Juwon never made the effort to contact him anyway, and now this whole meeting was beginning to feel more and more like a mistake. Juwon wanted to start anew; everything used to remind him of his father, of his anger, and worst of all, his guilt. Seeing Hyuk again in the same posh bar they’ve been visiting for years just feels all too familiar and Juwon doesn’t need ‘familiar’ right now.
“I’m fine.” He brushes off the feigned worry of the prosecutor, and Hyuk immediately backs away. “What were you saying?”
Hyuk swallows and takes a sip from his glass. There isn’t anything left in it other than the ice melting away. “Your father. He wants to see you.”
Does grief come in crashing waves or can it come in through a room, slowly, creeping its way towards you with all its baggage and pain? Because right now, Juwon can’t really breathe and he turns away from his private high school tutor turned father’s lapdog turned mildly decent prosecutor and feels like he is desperately gasping for air. Still, Juwon knew this was going to happen someday. Three long, grueling years of running away from his soiled past didn’t mean that it never happened, it just meant that sooner or later it was going to catch up. He didn’t want to admit that he anticipated this. But he is his father’s son after all.
Perhaps today the grief has finally reached him.
Juwon looks down to the spot on the table where the moisture of his glass has pooled. A perfectly shaped circle made out of condensation, and Juwon grabs a tissue and wipes it away. “Did he really say that?” The question comes out involuntarily.
“What do you mean?” Juwon can sense the slight tremble in Hyuk’s voice which somehow makes him angrier.
“Did my—I mean, Han Gihwan say that he wanted to see me?” Juwon doesn’t know what else to feel, really. He wants to get up but something is pulling him down and letting him listen to what Hyuk has to say. Maybe it’s anger or maybe it’s the guilt.
“Yeah,” Hyuk nods, and Juwon can see the slight feeling of regret wash over the older man. “He called me a few days ago and so I visited him. He wanted me to tell you that he wants to see you.” His eyes don’t meet Juwon’s when he speaks, but Juwon looks at him in the usual way he does when interrogating someone. Juwon is looking for a sign that perhaps Hyuk is simply lying but he can’t find anything.
“I have no reason to see that man.” Juwon almost spits it out. He has to remind himself sometimes that even if they are related by blood, he is in no way bonded by it. He hasn’t been his father’s son for a long time and in no way was that about to change soon.
Hyuk turns to Juwon and the bar lights above them flicker like a message of impending doom. “I think he wants to apologize, Juwon.”
And Juwon snickers but he eventually lets out a laugh. He hasn’t laughed in a long time and it felt new and refreshing to him, albeit inappropriate. It bubbled up inside of him, brewing, waiting to come out like a releasing breath, and yet it doesn’t feel so satisfying.
“You’re getting funnier, Hyuk.” Juwon licks his lips and laughs again. Now, it keeps pouring out with no signs of stopping.
“Juwon, don’t be this way.” Hyuk almost reaches out to grab Juwon’s resting arm but promptly hesitates. Juwon grinds his teeth at the sight of him desperately trying to reach for something that has been long gone already.
“You told me to come meet you for what exactly?” Juwon raises a brow, and Hyuk puts his head down. “Is it for this?”
“Juwon, Of - of course not. ” Juwon may not be able to tell if he is lying or not but he can definitely spot denial. The sight of Hyuk almost cowering in shame makes Juwon straighten his back just to feed off of the elder’s regret some more.
Juwon calls the bartender and asks for the tab. He takes out his wallet and pays for the both of them, and Hyuk doesn’t say a word.
“Next time, give me a good reason to see you because getting here takes time and I don’t have that,” Juwon stands up but he feels his knees quiver a little. Hyuk finally looks up at him to say something but Juwon cuts him off. “I’m sure you don’t either.”
The younger man grabs his wallet and walks away but Hyuk calls out one more time. “Juwon, he told me he was sorry.”
He hates the fact that it makes him stop in his tracks and turn. Juwon can already feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest and the air coming into his mouth feels suffocating. Let me go, please. Juwon wants to yell out desperately. Although he is not too sure what exactly is holding him back so tightly.
“I’m not who he has to apologize to,” Juwon says before walking away. He steps outside and the world feels bigger than it used to, the air much fresher, but the heaviness in his heart has now dropped to his stomach.
——
Juwon’s partner isn’t in today and as much as he is fond of the boy, he enjoyed patrolling alone. Life moved very slowly where Juwon was stationed; there were no major crimes or piled up paperwork to get rid of, no dangerous police chases or life-threatening situations that fueled his adrenaline. After years of constant searching and running, the moments of quiet he had to himself felt foreign and uncomfortable. Sometimes it still felt that way but he wants to heal this time. This time, he really wants to try and be himself without the pain.
He sits in the car alone with nothing but the hum of the engine and the tapping of his fingers to accompany him. It’s enough to drown out last night’s meeting with Hyuk, enough to crumple it and make it feel like a distant upsetting dream. Today feels longer than usual. Juwon drives by the busy streets in hopes of something. He’s not really sure what exactly it is he is hoping for but it makes him pull over next to an empty lot for sale and rest his head on the steering wheel. Hyuk’s final words before Juwon’s dramatic exit from the bar echo in his head like a painful reminder that some ties can never be permanently damaged. It hurts him that he is actually considering visiting his very own father even after everything. Especially knowing that the apology is not his to accept, to begin with. Juwon hinders himself from spiraling into a deep, distressing hole of memories because he knows once he gets there, it’ll grow and fester like an unavoidable fever.
Snap out of it, Juwon. You’re at work. He pinches himself on the forearm and it feels numb. All he really feels right now is ridiculous.
He sits back up and watches the people pass him by and for some reason, the ache in his chest doesn’t go away. Juwon sees a young girl desperately cling to her mother’s arms and he almost feels like crying. Not right now. Juwon reminds himself. He glances over to the vacant seat next to him and it feels achingly, hauntingly empty. Like someone should be there.
“Excuse me,” Someone knocks on his car window which makes Juwon jump a little. An elderly woman smiles at him and waves, and he nods back politely.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” Juwon voices out his concern. Working so closely with the elderly has created a soft spot for them in his heart, and for a moment Juwon is reminded what exactly it is he should be doing.
“I would like to know where this restaurant is?” She hands him a flyer, and he notices that they served a variety of stews and hot meals. He has only eaten there once with his colleagues but for some reason, he hasn’t returned since.
Juwon stares at the flyer for a moment debating with himself on what to say. He has brought home and searched for many of the town’s elderly before, yet he can’t seem to get used to the feeling. Even more so when they ask him for help.
“It’s quite a walk from here, Ma’am.” Juwon gives her a polite smile, and she nods understandingly. “But I can take you there if you want.” She lights up at the suggestion.
“Really? Oh, that would be wonderful!” He helps her in the car, and she insists on sitting in the front with him. Juwon assists her with her seatbelt and he hears her mutter a compliment so genuine it almost makes him forget about last night.
“Why are you alone today? Where is your partner?” She turns to him curiously. Juwon looks at her and notices that she is holding a plastic bag with tangerines in them. Her graying glimmers slightly from the sun and she smells like fabric softener.
“He’s not in today. His mother got sick so he got a day off,” Juwon replies, and the woman nods and folds the flyer in half.
The rest of the car ride was quite uneventful. Mostly consisting of the woman asking questions about Juwon’s work and what his life was like in the quiet town. It felt nice to finally have someone to talk to. Juwon knows that he comes off as cold, standoffish even; he doesn’t let anyone get close enough to know him, he avoids being put in situations where he has to talk excessively, he answers questions in ways that create a distance. When she asks him questions about his life, he answers them in the most honest way he can even if it hurts him to admit them out loud.
But Juwon wants to change now, he sincerely does.
Juwon helps her out of the car, and she thanks him and even calls him handsome and kind while doing so. Maybe he doesn’t look so cold anymore, maybe he’s changing.
He walks her up to the front of the humble, family-owned restaurant and bids his goodbye. “Where are you going?” The woman asks him, one hand already on the door.
“I still have to patrol around, Ma’am. Will you be okay?”
She steps down and walks towards him and her left leg limps. Juwon slightly backs away instinctively “What time is it?”
Juwon looks at his watch. “It’s 12:45, Ma’am.”
“Perfect, it’s lunchtime. You can have lunch with me.” She looks up at him and smiles cheekily, and Juwon can see the faint hue of red blush on her cheeks. Her eyes look like a hazel brown in the light and Juwon just feels guilty all over again.
He hesitates and declines politely but she tugs on his arm and he eventually gives in. The only difficulty with working so close to people you have a soft spot for is that you cannot say no.
They enter the restaurant and the strong scent of herbs and meat linger in the air and it actually starts making Juwon feel a little hungry. He looks around him and there are small groups of people enjoying their meals happily. Juwon never enjoyed crowds or places where he knew he would stand out and entering any space in a police uniform is bound to earn confused looks. But the comforting hand of the elderly woman next to him calms him down and makes him stick out less at the very least.
“You should eat, Officer Han. You look very tired,” The woman says and he lets out a small smile. Juwon realizes she can tell after all. “What do you want to eat?”
He hasn’t heard that question in a long time. On the very rare occasion he chooses to eat with others, the commotion of being with a group of people drowns out the choices of food, and Juwon always ends up either eating something he is already familiar with or a shared meal. The gentleness in the woman’s voice almost makes Juwon feel like crumbling—from exhaustion or confusion or sadness, he’s not really sure—but he definitely knows he hasn’t felt ingenuous kindness in a long time.
Juwon looks over at the menu and spots something familiar. He swallows before saying it out loud. “I really want to eat sausage stew.”
She smiles at him and nods, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he smiles back.
——
Juwon collapses on his bed, hair still damp from his shower, and the weight of the day presses his body onto the soft, warm surface of his bed. His shoulders feel heavier than usual, his legs are strained, and the only energy his arms can muster is for picking up the phone on his bedside table. The blue light of his device makes his eyes squint in the dark, and for a moment, he thinks his exhaustion has fully gotten the best of him when he reads the most recent message.
From: Yoo Jaeyi - 9:48 PM
It’s Officer Nam’s death anniversary this Saturday. Can you come visit?
Juwon drops his phone on his chest. When he picks it back up again to make sure he isn’t deluding himself, the message begins to feel more like a premonition.
From: Yoo Jaeyi - 9:50 PM
Text me back if you can make it. We miss you, Juwon.
If Jaeyi just didn’t include that final line, Juwon would have been able to bear it. But the sentiment makes him curl up into a ball—whether or not Jaeyi meant it—the thought of it crushes him. Did he anticipate this too? Was the ache in his heart waiting for this? Was the thought of his father apologizing not enough for him to carry? Juwon grips the sheets of his bed and the empty space is colder than usual. He looks at the lamp in his room and focuses as hard as he can, hoping that it wears him out.
Juwon’s fingers linger on his phone but they don’t type out anything. It simply hangs over the keyboard as if waiting for a sign to begin, but Juwon doesn’t move. He reads the message over and over again. Not a single word comes up in his head.
It’s not like Juwon is avoiding them because as much as he tries to, he is past the point of denial now. A part of him will always rest in Manyang, it belongs there and nowhere else. And Juwon wants that part of him back, he wants to be himself again but that means having to face the very torment that brought him to hell. He was there a year ago and despite the front he put up, the wounds were still a little too fresh; the burns still smoldered on his skin, the end of the tunnel still felt very far away. The last time he saw them still made his guilt sit in his throat.
He doesn’t dare think about that day or Manyang, for that matter. Doing so means he will eventually think of him .
And thinking of him feels like the most agonizing thing in the world.
Of course, there is a part of Juwon that wants to come crawling back into the only place that let him in; the only place that watched him get torn to shreds yet lovingly pieced him back together, the only place that has ever made him feel like he belonged, the only place that would still welcome him despite everything.
But he knows he doesn’t deserve that. Not yet, at least. He doesn’t deserve their kind efforts in including him in every special occasion, he doesn’t deserve to see them smile at him as if nothing had happened, he doesn’t deserve Gwangyoung boasting about knowing him to his coworkers, he doesn’t deserve Jihoon texting him every time Jihwa brings him up in conversations, he doesn’t deserve Jaeyi’s constant invitations even if he declines each one, and most of all, he doesn’t deserve the way Dongsik looks at him with forgiving eyes.
Juwon doesn’t deserve that one the most.
He’s used to never giving Dongsik what he wanted anyway, it might not hurt to add another to the list.
Juwon stares at his phone screen once more. Half of him wants to put it down, forget about it and reply once he’s in a better headspace, while the other half of him wants to come back home.
He chooses the latter.
To: Jaeyi - 10:16 PM
I don’t know if I’m ready yet.
Juwon pauses for a moment.
To: Jaeyi - 10:18 PM
Are you free on Friday at 8 PM? I can come meet you.
——
The booth Juwon occupies rests at the corner of the restaurant, somewhere where people can’t really see him, somewhere the light barely reaches. The friendly waitress places two glasses in front of him and smiles. Juwon tries to return the favor but his shaking leg distracts him from doing so. He watches dust swirl around the table next to him and he belatedly wonders if he made the right decision, but something tells him he did. In case something happens, in case he says something he doesn’t mean, at the very least, it will only exist in the corner of this restaurant. He can’t keep finding new places to avoid.
Jaeyi arrives only ten minutes after him. Her long, wavy hair looks much shorter now, her cream-colored skirt waves slightly with every step she makes, and her eyes twinkle at the sight of him. When Juwon looks up at her, he smiles but his heart drops. She is so familiar, so close to his pain.
“You look great, Han Juwon.” Jaeyi lets out a breath before she sits. She looks at him with caring, kind eyes and it reminds him of someone. His mother, perhaps. The dim light that hangs above casts a tender shadow on her face, and Juwon almost feels like he’s dreaming.
“You look even better, Miss Yoo.” Juwon nods. He feels so close to home that it leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth.
She snickers at the formality, and Juwon is instantly taken back to all the nights he had spent in her butcher shop. Some of which were spent interrogating her, asking her for favors, making mistakes. And now, here he was, meeting her in a different light with a different heart. Jaeyi might be the only person who understands exactly where his pain exists and what to do with it. Something even Juwon might not understand himself.
Juwon orders a meal and a few drinks for the both of them. He has a feeling that this is going to be a long night and alcohol might be his only saving grace for when the unthinkable ever happens.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you tonight?” She pours soju into a glass for the both of them, and Juwon drinks it immediately. Jaeyi shakes her head and laughs. “I didn't realize you could drink like that, Han Juwon.” Juwon purses his lips as the bitterness of the alcohol swirls in his mouth.
“There are still many things you do not know about me, Jaeyi.” Juwon nods, and Jaeyi raises her arms in feigned defeat. “You’re the only person I have the heart to see.” He suddenly confesses. Maybe the alcohol is finally getting to him, but he doesn’t really have the energy to put up a front tonight. It has been years of doing just that—of pretending, of denying, of avoiding—and Juwon knows Jaeyi can see right through him anyway.
“And why is that?” She takes the shot of soju next to her and takes a bite from the seafood grilling in between them. The smoke that billows gently in front of her creates a fog, and it makes Juwon feel even more like he’s stuck in some sort of trance. How come she always seems to know exactly what to say to back him into a corner? Perhaps Juwon isn’t as unreadable as he thinks he is.
“I feel like it’s all my fault.” Juwon takes another shot. It stings his throat too much, and he covers it by eating but there seems to be something lodged in his throat that he can’t swallow. This is beginning to feel like a nightmare, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking. “I just don’t like pretending like everybody is okay when I can still feel the guilt weighing me down.”
Jaeyi takes a deep breath and sighs. She drops the chopsticks from her hands, the metal clangs as she leans in closer to him. Juwon can see the shadow of her lashes as she blinks. There is an indecipherable look on her face as she stares at him intently, brows furrowed, lips tightened.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Juwon’s words get stuck before it escapes his mouth. He knows she can sense something he doesn’t.
“Because I just realized you don’t know a lot of things about us either.” Jaeyi shakes her head slightly. Juwon grips the soju glass in his hand.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He blinks rapidly.
Jaeyi leans back and sighs. She takes another bite from her food and refuses to look up at him while doing so. Every bite she takes makes the insides of Juwon twist and turn in anticipation. He fills the silence between them by taking sips from his bottle but Jaeyi doesn’t budge.
“To be honest, we can’t bring you up when we talk. I texted you mostly because I was sick of pretending like I didn’t know you.” She finally looks up at him, and Juwon notices her gulp.
It hurts to hear it out loud. The thought of it pricks him every now and then but to hear it out loud is like a knife to the chest; it pierces through the skin and the muscle. To make matters worse it is almost as if Juwon can see the blood pouring out from the wound as he looks down at his hands. It is soiled, bloodied, dirty. He wants to wipe it away but it leaves a stain to remind him exactly what the pain feels like.
“I’m sorry,” is all Juwon can really say at this point. It sounds more like a shaky exhale than an audible whisper. The hypothetical wound in his heart is still gushing out blood.
“It’s not your fault.” Jaeyi shakes her head and of course, Juwon doesn’t believe her. “It’s Dongsik’s.”
His name alone is enough to make Juwon crumble, and that is exactly what Juwon does. Juwon accidentally pushes a bottle over and instinctively thanks himself for drinking what was left in it.
“What - what do you-” Juwon stutters but Jaeyi cuts him off.
“Everybody is afraid that saying your name when Dongsik is around will make him feel worse. He doesn’t bring you up but everybody knows that he’s just trying his best not to.” Jaeyi flips the fish on the grill but its entire backside has burnt so she takes it out piece by piece. Juwon watches her but his mind is everywhere else but at that moment.
“What - what are you saying?” Juwon can feel the guilt in his throat grow heavier. He asks for another drink.
“I’m saying you need to come back home, Juwon,” Jaeyi says with so much care in her voice that Juwon can feel the tears well up in his eyes. His fingers tremble beneath the table, and all he really wants is to collapse into the ground, let the earth swallow him whole, beg to whatever god is out there to take him so he doesn’t have to bear hearing about Dongsik anymore.
Juwon doesn’t notice that he is crying until he notices a teardrop fall onto the table. He swipes it away with the sleeve of his sweater but it makes him tear up even more. She hands him a tissue, but Juwon refuses.
“I don’t want to see him, Jaeyi.” When he speaks, his voice cracks. It makes him feel like he is begging her and the anguish plastered on Jaeyi’s face makes him feel worse. “I can’t see him.” It comes out in rapid breaths.
“Juwon…” Jaeyi doesn’t dare to touch him but this time his fingers feel like reaching hers and so she places her soft, warm hands on top of his own.
“Seeing him feels like torture. Thinking of him feels like torture.” Juwon mutters under his breath and as he gasps for oxygen he takes a swig from the bottle of alcohol next to him.
“Juwon, slow down.” Jaeyi gently grabs the bottle from his hands and places it back on the table. He has not felt this pathetic in a very long time.
“What if he doesn’t want to see me? I haven’t come back since. I’ve been declining every invitation, every chance. What if he doesn’t want to see me anymore?” Juwon can almost taste the vomit rising from his stomach. He washes it down by drinking but it makes his head spin.
“You might’ve forgotten who you’re talking about.” Jaeyi stares at him, and Juwon can sense the shame overtaking his entire being. “You are talking about Dongsik. The only person who can wait even longer than I have.”
What Jaeyi says is almost enough to convince him, but the burden Juwon willingly lugs around still pulls him back from believing her. He doesn’t know why he feels this intensely for a man that would most probably not want anything to do with him, or rather, would live a better life without him in it. Every time Juwon thinks of Dongsik, he feels as if all the most important, most vulnerable parts of himself are left exposed; welcoming themselves to the torment of possibilities that what if he hurts Dongsik again. And when Juwon imagines hell, it looks terrifyingly like the way Dongsik looked at him that night Juwon went down on his knees in desperation.
“My guilt is killing me, Jaeyi.” Juwon feels the heat rush to his cheeks and a single drop of sweat rolls down from his temple to his chin. He wants to throw up or dissolve or to be held again.
“I think you are mixing up your guilt with something else.” Juwon meets her eyes, and she clenches her jaw. He doesn’t really know what she means by that. “Juwon, you’re drunk. Let’s go home.”
“I’m not drunk,” He says as he takes another sip from the bottle. Jaeyi grabs it from him again, with much more force this time, and places it farther from him. “I never get drunk, Jaeyi.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Well, I doubt you’ve ever drunk this much before.” Jaeyi gets up from her seat and urges him to stand but he is grudgingly still. He waves her away and takes a deep breath but his dizziness almost makes him drop his head towards the table.
His eyelids feel heavy, his feet feel like they have cemented themselves to the ground. “Jaeyi… Be honest with me.” Jaeyi closes her eyes and nods. “Do you think Dongsik wants to see me?” Juwon lifts his head towards her and he can see his mother’s face instead. His question is another confession, one that he has buried so deep within him that he never really realized it even existed. But he stares at her some more, awaiting her reply. Will any response satisfy him? What if she says yes? What if she says no? Both of which will bring him to hell anyway.
“You’re the only person he wants to see, Han Juwon.”
Juwon doesn’t realize it but he smiles. He only notices when Jaeyi smiles back.
——
Juwon can smell something familiar. There is a warm, blue blanket over him and his fingers trail its fabric and it almost soothes him back to sleep. His head is spinning and he tries to open his eyes but a flickering light makes him hesitate.
“Han Juwon…” A voice delicately calls out for him. The cadence and tone are enough to make Juwon’s chest pound. “I did not realize you could get drunk like that.” Jaeyi must’ve called him or maybe, this was one of those dreams he has every once in a while. The kind of dream that disrupts his entire day and reminds him of everything he walked away from, the kind of dreams that make him not want to wake up.
He sits up to see Dongsik smiling at him and Juwon swallows. Perhaps the fluttering lightbulb has illuminated Dongsik in a way that makes Juwon’s limbs go weak. Juwon is suddenly reminded why Manyang always felt like home, why a piece of him will always somehow exist here, why his heart will always expose itself at the sight of him. Dongsik sits on a chair across the couch Juwon was sleeping on and the smile on his face makes Juwon feel like he can breathe again.
“I’m sorry.” Juwon blurts out the only thing he knows how to say these days. It’s the only thing that really makes sense in his head.
“For what?” Dongsik snickers. Juwon hasn’t heard that in years.
“For getting drunk and crashing on your couch.” He looks up at the ceiling, not really ready to look at the older man again. “For Officer Nam… for being my father’s son… for never truly trusting you… for everything.” Juwon’s heart is thrashing in his chest and he speaks in case Dongsik hears it.
“You should only be sorry for one thing and it’s none of those,” Dongsik replies, and Juwon looks at him in confusion.
“Well, whatever it is I’m sorry for that too.” He sits up and his vision blurs for a few seconds. Dongsik must’ve noticed because he walks up to him and sits next to him. Juwon can feel the sudden rush of warmth next to him but he doesn’t turn to look at him. If he sees Dongsik this close, it might break him again.
They sit there in silence—it is both awkward and comforting—and Juwon can still hear the distant echoes of his floundering heart. He clutches his chest tightly and takes a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” Dongsik asks, the tone of worry is so evident in his voice. Juwon still refuses to face him.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Juwon pinches his fingers.
“Well, why don’t you ask me then?” Dongsik responds in a way that makes Juwon remember the first time he ever saw him at the substation. The disinterested, condescending voice that taunted and teased him; the very one that kept Juwon up at night and made him want to sit outside his house out of spite, out of frustration, out of something else.
Juwon clears his throat. “Are you okay, Lee Dongsik?”
“Never better, Han Juwon.” Dongsik snickers and Juwon almost rolls his eyes in annoyance, but god knows how much Juwon has waited to hear it. “And you?”
“I could be better,” Juwon replies as honestly as he can. He hopes Dongsik doesn’t notice the way he is clenching his fist with every syllable that comes out his mouth.
And if this were any other day, Dongsik would reply with something that would make Juwon’s skin crawl. “ Is it because you miss me?” or “Maybe you should get drunk again, then.” Something along those lines, something that pulls Juwon away from sheer embarrassment and shame. Juwon can already feel it coming, and if not for the splitting headache, he would beat him to it.
But perhaps three years is a long time. Enough for someone to change, even for someone like Dongsik. “Why only now?” He asks in a way that makes Juwon’s breath hitch. Juwon doesn’t dare speak in case he says something he doesn’t mean, or worse, pushes Dongsik away again.
Juwon lets the silence fill the air for a bit before finally turning his head to face the older man. He notices the wrinkles on his skin, the faint spots on his cheeks, the deep hazel browns in his eyes. He is so close that if he leaned in just a little, Juwon would be able to feel his skin on his. Dongsik is so close that Juwon can’t breathe again.
“I’ve been going through hell.” The way Dongsik looks in this light makes Juwon want to concede, to yield to his weaknesses and fears. Juwon doesn’t deserve this, not at all. It makes him want to close himself off again and go back to where he belongs but Dongsik’s eyes keep him planted on his seat. This very moment makes him realize why all these years he has avoided creating soft, tender spots in his heart. Because how could he say no when the only person who has ever looked at him with so much desperation is asking him to stay? It is tempting to stay, to cherish the inches of distance between them, to have the ability to feel the intimacy of his warmth, to imprint their clandestine meetings in his brain so that he remembers it even in his next life. But staying is terrifying. Staying means accepting that he is about to fall into the very pit of hell he fought to crawl out of.
“Why?” Dongsik questions. Juwon doesn’t know if he is simply imagining the quiver in his voice.
“My father wants to apologize to me.” Juwon changes the subject. He doesn’t know where to put his hands anymore. “I can’t accept it because it's yours.”
Dongsik sighs and clicks his tongue. “Then don’t accept it. Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean you’re obliged to accept it.” He turns to look at Juwon again. “If it hurts, then let it.”
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about how sorry I am.” Juwon wants to cry, to disappear, to melt into Dongsik’s hands and evaporate into the air. “I can’t stop thinking about how much pain I’ve caused you. How can you forgive me?” It’s as if a glass had been shattered and Juwon is carrying the shards in his palms. It makes him bleed, but nothing hurts more than looking at Dongsik.
“You don’t know me after all, Han Juwon.” Dongsik stands up from his seat and a gust of cold air occupies the vacant space next to Juwon.
“I wouldn’t have been able to forgive me if I were you.” Juwon looks back down to his fiddling fingers. Every second that passes lets the sharp edges of the hypothetical glass cut through him. “I won’t blame you if you can’t.”
“You haven’t changed much, Juwon.” Dongsik lets out a laugh and it almost makes Juwon jump. The younger man raises an eyebrow. He feels trapped again. “You’re still good at stumbling into my house and giving me half-baked assumptions on things you have no clue about.”
Juwon feels the knife in his chest again but this time it is lodged deeper inside of him and the knife is twisting. He would normally feel offended, pissed off even, but Juwon knows that Dongsik has every right to be a smartass. Nevertheless, it bothers Juwon how much Dongsik has control over him, how his heart can only be tended and mangled by him. If Juwon took the beating organ out of his chest right now and gave it to Dongsik, what would he do with it?
The younger man isn’t ready to find out just yet. He stands up from the couch, his body barely intact. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” Juwon hates to admit it. As much as he wants to stay, to revel in the place he has dreams about, to keep looking at the man who can kill him with just a word, Juwon is still afraid. The intensity of his emotions is so foreign, so bizarre that he would rather go home than face something he isn’t ready to battle just yet.
Dongsik moves towards him and looks him in the eye. Juwon gulps. “I’ve waited for Yuyeon to come back for twenty years.” He places a hand on the collar of Juwon’s coat. “I can wait for you even if it kills me.” He flattens it and pats it down, all while looking at Juwon.
“What - what are you saying?” Juwon’s breath is shaky but Dongsik doesn’t seem bothered by it.
“I’m saying that you can come in here twenty years later, and I would still be waiting for you. Hopefully, if that ever happens, you’re not as dense as you are now.” Dongsik smiles. Juwon can’t breathe.
Right now, Juwon thinks if the hell that he belongs to were to ever call him back, he would be able to bear the pain. The way Dongsik is looking at him right now is enough to keep him safe for a few lifetimes. The only problem is that now that Juwon has seen it, his greed will get the best of him; it will make him yearn for more, and nothing else in his life will satisfy him as much as this very moment.
“Am I not too late?” But Juwon needs to be sure. He needs to know the truth so that he can finally sleep at night. “Have I not hurt you enough?”
Dongsik grabs Juwon’s clenched, freezing hands. The same way he did on the night of his father’s arrest, the night where Juwon knew he was about to experience true, raw heartbreak for the very first time. He cups Juwon’s hands in between his palms and lets his thumb caress the curve of his fingers. The hair on the back of Juwon’s neck stands and he lets out a shuddering breath; the atoms in Juwon’s body rearrange themselves like furniture in a room, the blood that flows in his veins spread like wildfire, the electricity in his skin sparks like an old switch. Who would have thought that Juwon had a chance to be reborn again? The very man that he came to catch a few years ago is now giving him life with just the touch of his finger. And Juwon somehow realizes what his hands were meant for. They were never his to begin with.
Is this normal? Juwon thinks to himself. He doesn’t know what kindness looks like, let alone love. Is it really supposed to feel this way? Juwon has a vague idea of what love should be like but what he feels right now seems stronger than that, larger than usual. Even if he were to muddle it, silence it, Juwon knows that it will come bursting into the room like a fire.
“There will always be a part of me that waits for you, Han Juwon,” Dongsik says it slowly as if to make sure the younger man understands it. Juwon feels like a broken dam exploding, a seedling seeing the sunlight for the first time, a man being granted mercy, a garden feeling like the freshness of the rain.
“You will ruin me, Lee Dongsik.” A tear rolls down Juwon’s cheek. He feels like he is being possessed by light. How can a single touch destroy a man?
“Can I do that?” Dongsik looks at Juwon with pleading eyes. Juwon doesn’t even realize it, but he nods.
And Dongsik brings Juwon’s hands towards his mouth and kisses it, lips only barely grazing his skin. Juwon cannot stop crying, he cannot stop thinking about how much he doesn’t deserve so much gentleness in his life. He can’t explain the state he is in—a perfectly concocted mix of desperation and longing—and all he can do is stare at the man before him, secretly wishing that time could stop.
“You are making it harder for me to leave.” Juwon would say something else but doing so is much more difficult. He loves Dongsik beyond words and understanding, beyond reason and sense. Every hand he has declined, every touch he has avoided has led him to where he is now; drunk and sentimental in front of the only person he is meant to hold.
Dongsik smiles and plants another kiss on Juwon’s hand, slowly trailing his mouth towards his wrist. This time, fully aware of what it can do to Juwon.
——