FBF chapter 21 part 2
by Volare“What is this?”
Instead of answering my question, he reached into the bag and turned around to show me. I was left speechless the moment I saw the thick padding in his hands. Could it be? But as he put the new padded coat with the tag still attached over my shoulders, I began to think otherwise.
“Hey, you…”
Could he have actually gone out this morning to buy this? There was no need for that… No, he probably didn’t have the money for it in the first place. As if sensing my gaze drifting towards the price tag, Jihoon swiftly ripped it off. In the next moment, he zipped up the coat all the way to my chin, effectively covering half my face. Once he pulled the hood on, Jihoon’s satisfied expression appeared. When our eyes met, he grinned and said playfully.
“This is my wish. I want you to wear this and go to the airport.”
“…”
“So ‘no’ and ‘not really’ are both forbidden.”
That was the end of Jihoon’s explanation. After briefly leaning down to meet my gaze, he immediately turned around. It was as if he had no intention of giving me a chance to respond. As he took off his hooded sweatshirt, snow fell like little pellets from his wrinkled jacket onto the floor.
“When is this annoying snow going to stop…?”
I turned my head, but Jihoon became fixated on the word “annoying” and began humming a line from a Christmas carol. I couldn’t look at Jihoon any longer and turned my gaze outside, struggling to push away the heavy feelings climbing up my throat onto the snow-covered street.
Maybe it was because he wanted to keep his promise from the first day, but Jihoon insisted that we take a taxi to the airport instead of taking public transport like we did on the way there. After calling a taxi and loading our bags, we were faced with the traffic caused by the snow. Even though we left with plenty of time, we ended up being later than expected. We wouldn’t miss our flight, but with the time for check-in and security screening, it was going to be tight.
After getting our tickets and checking in our luggage, Jihoon was waiting for me in front of the departure gate. In the bustling airport, announcements echoed continuously, as if trying to guide the confused crowd. Jihoon seemed a bit anxious about whether there was information I needed to hear, as he would stop talking every time an announcement played.
After about three times of this, Jihoon took a step back from me. He turned his head to look out the window at the entrance of the departure gate. I assumed he was observing the planes in the distance, but only after hearing his disappointed mutter did I realize it was something else.
“It would have been nicer if we came when it wasn’t snowing.”
Jihoon couldn’t hide his disappointed expression. Just like when he couldn’t go to the top of the tallest viewpoint in New York due to strong winds, or when he was disappointed by the sudden closure of the 21st Street corner restaurant after asking ten people about it.
“No.”
I repeated what I had said every other time he made such comments, even knowing he wouldn’t find comfort in my words.
At least Jihoon laughed every time I said that. It seemed to amuse him that I insisted on saying “no” without even realizing it. I expected him to react the same way again, but this time he looked at me without a smile. He took off his scarf, which gradually dawned on me as a pattern that had been lingering for the last few days. I stepped back in shock, waving my hands as if to refuse.
“Ah, no. Don’t. We’re about to board.”
“They say it’s cold in Korea.”
“So it’s winter; doesn’t it get cold there too? It’s cold here and there. Ah, I said no, didn’t I?”
Even as I pushed him away with all my might, he only got closer instead. It might be because Jihoon was using the rebound to press in even tighter. The moment I hesitated for a brief second, my neck felt heavy. Jihoon finally stepped back after tying the knot tightly enough that I couldn’t easily loosen it. His expression was satisfied, seeing me bundled up in the padded coat and scarf he had given me, but when he caught my eyes after I lowered my scarf, he paused. Soon after, his face softened into a contemplative gaze.
“Still… it’s nice to see you like this.”
Jihoon, standing before me in the loud airport, spoke in a voice and language that only I could understand, oddly looking lonely and forlorn. That’s why I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
If Jihoon had said those words in his usual playful tone, I wouldn’t have felt this way. However, he was serious and set aside his usual playful demeanor, and thanks to that, I knew it was a word of sincerity.
“I feel a little bad that I couldn’t show you as much as I had planned, but…”
Jihoon, who had been focused on biting his lower lip while looking down, managed a faint smile shortly thereafter. I could read a glimmer of hope in his lifted gaze. Jihoon’s eyes, even shining more brightly, seemed to have found a reason not to be disappointed in that brief moment.
“Not that this is the end. Let’s come again next time.”
“…”
“When you come, you’ll ride in my plane. I’ll make up for everything I couldn’t do this time. We’ll watch musicals every day, go to observatories, and we’ll do whatever you want.”
The moment I realized that the hope Jihoon was looking for was in our future, my heart, which had been noisy for three nights and four days, became calm, reminiscent of the sea after a storm had passed. Just like when I took my wallet and rushed down the stairs after hearing about the monthly rent in the morning. I accepted the outcome without even contemplating it.
If Jihoon has a future with me in it, then there’s no way I wouldn’t have him in my future.
I can refrain from confessing. I don’t need to have the same feelings as him. In fact, I should endure until the moment he includes me, valuing me as a precious person in his future.
If I withhold love, there is a future. I can be beside Jihoon.
“…”
Even now, in the large bag I carry, the MP3 containing my confession remains untouched. Since arriving in New York, I have never forgotten about its existence. Yet, at this moment, I realized it was truly okay not to convey it.
In the bustling airport where announcements echoed loudly, potentially warning that a plane might depart without the lazy passengers.
“Get going, slowly. If you’re late, it’ll be a hell of a mess. It’s better to go in early, even if you have to wait.”
For the first time, I looked into the face of the person who perpetually pushed me into unpredictable situations with no fear.
“Lee Jihoon.”
Only then could I finally speak. Remembering those things I had tried so hard to ignore since coming here. The slim wallet, the worn-out sneakers, the bloodshot eyes—they are just states of being and do not define you. They are only the current struggles to endure, not the future that is to come.
“When I see a plane in Korea…”
As Jihoon, who had been pushing me along, hesitated, I quickly continued.
“I imagine that one day you’ll be flying something like that yourself.”
This is not a confession; it is my declaration made possible by not making one.
“But that’s not the only thing I imagine…”
“…”
“I also imagine the scene when you board that plane returning to Korea.”
So…
“If it’s too hard, you can come back.”
I changed the subject I was about to throw out starting with “I” to a sentence that could resonate with Jihoon, emphasizing that there are many people who love him, wider and larger than he realizes.
“We all know you’re doing your best.”
As I spoke, Jihoon looked surprised, but as time passed, his expression slowly shifted from shock to a smile.
“Wow, Seon-uk doesn’t hold back, says all this stuff since I haven’t seen him in a while. I’m touched.”
While I began to contemplate my response, another boarding call started overhead. Jihoon, unable to ignore it this time, turned away and urged me to move.
“Okay, I got it—now get going. Seriously, or you’ll really be late.”
The time on the airplane ticket wouldn’t change. Knowing it was time to follow Jihoon’s words, I struggled to move my feet. I felt lingering reluctance, but I forcibly readjusted the strap of my bag. Reluctantly, I brought out a farewell I would never get the chance to share until we meet again.
“I’m leaving.”
“Okay. Call me when you arrive.”
Jihoon urged me to hurry through the open automatic doors, focused on getting me to leave on time. While following the airport personnel’s directions, I glanced outside each time the automatic door opened. I could see Jihoon standing right where we had been moments ago. I wanted to wave or at least give a nod, but because he was turned away from the door, I merely caught a glimpse.
Thanks to a family of four wearing identical hats entering just then, the door opened once more. I instinctively checked the spot Jihoon had stood in and saw his back turned, head bowed with one hand resting on his hip.
After that, even when the automatic door opened, I couldn’t bear to look again. When I saw him one last time, I instinctively felt I would not leave this place. So I walked forward without deliberately turning back to look at him or allowing my gaze to linger.
I received a window seat. The uncle sitting to my right buckled his seatbelt and immediately crossed his arms, preparing to sleep. I gazed at the oval window’s view for a long time. Before leaving, I wanted to capture as much of the city that would embrace Jihoon in my eyes as possible.
Growing pains come to help one grow, and I repeated to myself that this city would be the place where Jihoon would overcome those pains. I pulled out the MP3 I had tucked deep into my bag. The moment the plane took off, my unshared confession took flight. I exhaled and leaned deeply into my seat.
* * *
The senior who introduced himself as Jung Woo-ri clicked his tongue as soon as I mentioned that I hadn’t met the team leader yet. He rambled on about how I was just an inexperienced person who knows nothing but work, and how thanks to the silent boss, I had grown good at playing hide-and-seek with criminals. It might have sounded like bashing, but he gave what was closer to a compliment as he threw out details about how I met the team leader right in front of the police station’s smoking area with a shout.
“Team Leader! Haven’t you introduced yourself to the new recruit yet? It’s an awfully hard-earned new recruit, and you can’t even bother to show some hospitality.”
I had just been appointed yesterday. I couldn’t gauge the department’s complete atmosphere yet, but at least it didn’t feel too rigid like my peers had warned me.
“Is he your kid or something? Please spare me from your nagging. I’m busy too.”
The man called the team leader was sitting hunched over in a khaki overcoat with a cigarette in hand. Even while scratching his short gray hair, which was close to balding, he merely grumbled, not even reprimanding Jung Woo-ri.
“Anyway, take responsibility now and look after him. Feed him lunch and treat him to dessert too.”
“Why aren’t you eating with him?”
“I have to meet someone responsible for Iksan and eat with them.”
As if signifying that I should get going without any attachment, the team leader waved his hand nonchalantly. After briefly exchanging glances, Jung Woo-ri walked away. Almost immediately, the team leader’s gaze returned to me. He seemed to regard the discrepancy in our heights as nothing to be concerned about and asked me in an indifferent tone.
“Do you want me to go above and beyond for you?”
That was a rather unexpected question. I quickly shook my head.
“No.”
“Why not? I heard you were the top of the police academy.”
I was taken aback that he knew something about me, but I didn’t let it show. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and scrunched his nose as if he found something itchy.
“Is it some curiosity, I wonder? Maybe you want to experience what it’s like to roll in a place like this before you become an executive?”
It was a casual remark, yet the intensity of his gaze bore down on me. It was as if he was assessing how long I could hold out. Thanks to that, I felt as though I was standing in an interview again. I decided to follow my instincts. The man gave off a feral vibe that suggested he wasn’t meant to lead a collective like this; he seemed to prefer raw to processed.
“I’m not the kind of person who makes decisions out of curiosity.”
“Then?”
“I’ve come prepared to roll in the dirt.”
A brief silence followed. The team leader burst into laughter, causing his cigarette to drop. Instead of expressing disappointment, he stood up. The expression on his face as he stomped on the cigarette butt didn’t seem bad.
“Interesting fellow we have here.”
“…”
“I don’t know about anything else, but you seem tough, and I like that.”
It was a weak compliment, but at least it felt like I wouldn’t be subjected to any awkward questions in the future. He said he was going to get lunch and was about to lead the way when he abruptly turned back. His face pointed toward the smoking area where I stood.
“Hey, newbie. Do you know what’s so great about smoking here?”
He didn’t seem to expect a response from someone who had only been at work for two days. He pointed his finger upward. It was spring, and the sunlight streamed down busily. To look up at the sky, one would naturally squint one eye, just as the team leader was doing.
The team leader poked at the blue sky with his second finger. As if to say, “Look over there.”
“If you look at the sky here, sometimes you can see planes passing by.”
“Yes.”
“What’s with that response? Did someone already tell you?”
He asked with a tone of surprise, and I smiled effortlessly.
“No. I saw it on the interview day.”
The team leader squinted at me while grinning.
“You must like planes. That’s the expression our youngest makes every time he sees a plane.”
Suddenly stopping in mid-step, I followed the leader’s gaze upward at the sky. In the distance, within my line of sight, a plane carrying passengers flew across.
I murmured to the sky as if speaking to myself.
“… Yes, I do like them.”
Even in this moment, I think of the person who might be somewhere flying in the sky where I do not know.
Jihoon’s romantic dreams take flight in a safe place. Further, higher. With two engines, or even none.
May your sky remain romantic today. And may my dreams also be safe.
5×5
I woke up to the smell of antiseptics. As soon as I registered that I was awake, I quickly sat up. At the same time, I turned my head, trying to find someone. I needed to confirm whether Jihoon was still beside me in this place where the sound of rain had faded away.
“Are you okay?”
Fortunately, Jihoon was sitting in a chair right beside the bed. Through the white curtains behind him, I could see people moving busily. I didn’t need to ask if this was the emergency room. After checking the IV drip, I nodded slowly. I felt a bit better, perhaps because of this IV.
Noticing the name of the hospital printed on the sheets, it seemed to be an emergency room right next to a funeral home. Jihoon, who had brought me here, had already changed his clothes. I assessed how much time had passed by looking at his neatly arranged hair and his chic black suit. Just as our eyes met, I awkwardly averted my gaze. Jihoon quietly spoke.
“There’s not much time left, so let’s hang in there. Kang Youngsoo is guarding the funeral room.”
The moment I moved around, it seemed I looked worried about who was guarding the funeral room. Jihoon noticed, and while I fixed my gaze on him, I nodded once again. It was a relief that this wasn’t a hospital in Seoul, and I was grateful to have the opportunity to convey my thoughts to him directly. The moment I saw Jihoon at the funeral home, everything I had barely managed to maintain shattered. Even in a daze, I thought about it. There was no way back to how things had been.
Neither Jihoon nor I spoke, lost in thought. The silence felt careful, like both of us were hesitant. Jihoon was the first to stand up.
“I’ll go say that it seems like everything’s been taken care of.”
As Jihoon was about to pull back the curtain, he paused and turned around. The moment our startled eyes met, the fingertips that had grabbed his arm trembled, yet he did not pull away. His glance descended from my hand to my face.
We exchanged deep, lingering gazes despite the discrepancy in our heights. Jihoon’s eyes, which had been dry but were still a bit red from his crying in the rain, proved that the trembling expression I had seen was not merely an illusion I had desperately wished for.
I struggled to speak without breaking eye contact, worrying that Jihoon might pull away. I tightened my grip on the arm I had held. Only after confirming he wouldn’t push me away did I find the courage to speak.
“I have something to tell you.”
“…”
“Once the funeral is over, if you can just wait until then…”
I stopped short. I could feel Jihoon’s arm slipping from my grasp. Realizing this made it hard to breathe, and as my gaze drifted aimlessly, I was caught by Jihoon’s eyes.
“Okay.”
As I heard his response, I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. At the same time, I recognized that Jihoon had not shoved me aside but had instead gently lowered my hand, which had been hooked to the IV. Only after that did Jihoon place his hand on my arm.
“I’ll wait. After it’s all over…”
“…”
“Let’s talk again then.”
The moment our eyes met, he lightly held my elbow before releasing it. It was a gesture that seemed to say he would be by my side. The tension that had been weighing down on me released, causing me to feel much lighter.
Instead of stepping out, Jihoon spoke to the medical staff passing by with his head just peeking out from behind the curtain. When he turned back to face me, I thanked him as if I was squeezing it out.
“Thank you.”
At 3 AM, the time when hardly any visitors were present. As soon as I returned to the funeral room, I halted upon seeing someone’s back. A man stood motionless in front of the shoe rack without even taking off his shoes. The moment Kang Youngsoo, who was wearing a flustered expression not far away, spotted me, he rushed over.
“Seon-uk! Are you okay?”
His voice was so loud in his panic that it made the man who had been standing frozen turn his head towards me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. He too seemed unable to look away. We both stood there like people who didn’t know how to close the distance.
Kang Youngsoo, who stood beside me, tugged my arm and whispered.
“Do you know him? I asked him who he was, but he didn’t answer…”
It was Jihoon who answered instead of me.
“What do you want to do? I can help you with anything, even if it means chasing him away.”
While Jihoon gently gripped my shoulder, his eyes remained fixed on the man. His expression was cold. But even so, he didn’t move, as if to reassure me that he would respect my wishes.
“What the heck? Why chase him away when I don’t even know who he is?”
Jihoon sighed briefly upon hearing Kang Youngsoo’s bafflement.
“Take a good look. Who does he resemble?”
Kang Youngsoo, who had been tilting his head in confusion, slowly turned his head toward the man, and his mouth quickly covered his face. I shifted my gaze away from them and stepped back. Before doing so, I nodded toward Jihoon to signal that I was okay.
It was surprisingly easy to approach him, as if the years of not seeing his face were meaningless. It took only three steps for me to stand in front of him. Even then, I didn’t look directly at him. Instead, I spoke to him, making eye contact with the frame of my grandfather’s portrait behind his shoulder.
“Let’s talk outside, Father.”
I sat side by side with my dad on the bench at the entrance to the funeral home. There was space for at least two more people between us. Only a couple of water bottles that Kang Youngsoo had brought were left abandoned in that space. Neither of us made any move to close the distance. Laying against the bench and staring ahead, Dad appeared oddly dazed. Even the raindrops falling from the eaves, wetting his expensive coat, watch, and shoes, he didn’t bother to avoid, frozen in his thoughts. He seemed lost in contemplation, perhaps too overwhelmed to think at all.
“How did you know to come without even contacting me?”
The moment I asked, it seemed like Dad finally realized that someone was beside him. He blinked as if emerging from a long tunnel of thought, but even then, he did not look at me. His throat moved aimlessly as if he had noticed that there was no escape from this situation, reluctantly answering.