FBF chapter 14 part 3

Lee Jihoon’s gaze flickered briefly towards me, who had been unresponsive. He didn’t press for an answer. He simply opened up as if demonstrating.

“I think about you when I come here.”

His voice echoed in the hospital room. He uncrossed his arms and leaned towards the bed. Lee Jihoon briefly held and then released my grandfather’s left arm, which was hidden under the hospital gown. It as if he wanted to gauge how much weight my grandfather had lost. Therefore, when Jihoon’s expression slightly faltered, as if he was dissatisfied with the information he had acquired, he placed his hand back on my grandfather’s arm and began to rub it as if massaging.

“It’s obvious you’re not going to tell your grandpa about yourself…”

“…….”

“I think it’s better for me to do it so your grandpa knows how you’re doing.”

While massaging my grandfather’s arm, he halted right in front of his hand.

“It’s pretty fascinating… sometimes I feel like grandpa can hear me.”

“…….”

“There was this one time; it felt like his hand stirred a little. I asked the nurse, and eventually got the doctor involved, but they said it was nothing. They told me it was just my imagination.”

A wry smile surfaced briefly on Lee Jihoon’s face. As if trying to shake it off, he shook his head and turned to me.

“Seon-uk.”

As we locked eyes, Jihoon chose his words carefully. After a short moment of contemplation, his gaze tenderly roamed over my face, a look of sympathy rather than mere concern.

“Your grandpa is living to see you.”

“…….”

“He wants to see you thriving without him. He’s not just hanging on by your side; he’s doing his best to stay here with you.”

I had to turn my gaze away to keep from tearing up. It was unfortunate that my eyes fell on my grandfather’s hand. Holding my grandfather’s hand a bit tighter than usual, I listened to Jihoon’s voice.

“So… it will be hard, but you have to talk to your grandpa.”

“…….”

“Open up enough so you won’t regret it, and reassure him that you’re doing well.”

I could still feel Lee Jihoon’s eyes on me. Only after my tears had subsided was I finally able to respond.

“…Okay.”

I lifted my head. I understood that Jihoon, who had taken my grandfather’s other hand, was waiting for me. The tears I had always held back when coming here finally took shape in words.

“Thank you.”

I wasn’t sure if I could speak about my feelings without mentioning Lee Jihoon’s name. Nevertheless, I needed to have a conversation with my grandfather, just as Lee Jihoon suggested.

So that I could let him go completely. To let him know he no longer needed to hold on for my sake.

As soon as we got back into the car, Lee Jihoon turned on the radio. When a song I couldn’t even name blared through, he actually turned it up as if pleased.

“Is grandpa playing this song to see us off again?”

“…I think he wouldn’t like this kind of song.”

“How would you know? Did you see him dancing on market day?”

“Did you see it?”

“No. That’s why I can make it up. If I knew, I would feel guilty lying about it.”

His bold statement didn’t elicit even a flinch from me, and I found myself breaking into an incredulous laugh. Even that laugh felt significant enough for Jihoon, who turned his head with a satisfied expression, to hum along to the unfamiliar tune.

Once we passed through a long tunnel, the discussions became random, almost as if we were tossing ideas back and forth without purpose. It felt nostalgic, as if our relationship had reverted to the days of old. About two tunnels later, my phone rang; it was Kang Youngsoo. After visiting our home, he had been working overtime every day and, upon realizing that we were together, he nagged us not to have too much fun. Jihoon put up with him for three minutes before hanging up the call. After terminating the incoming calls left and right, Jihoon suddenly brought up an unexpected topic.

“I think that guy might be dating someone lately.”

This was new information for me. Now that I recollected, it had been a while since I heard anything about Youngsoo’s love life. The last I remembered, he had asked me to help him pick an outfit for a blind date. If he were dating someone, he’d usually disclose unasked details the moment it began, so this felt peculiar.

“I haven’t really heard anything.”

“Me neither.”

Since he said that with confidence, I thought he must have heard something. As I turned my head in disbelief, Jihoon continued undeterred.

“That’s what makes it even more suspicious. He seems to be dating someone based on his demeanor, but instead of being loud like usual, he’s quiet.”

“…….”

“Whatever it may be, it’s good news. It’s about time to put that annoying lack of affection behind him.”

Even though I hadn’t heard any confirmation about him dating anyone, Jihoon spoke as if Youngsoo was secretly engaged to that person. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had any solid basis for his suspicion, but with no evidence, I couldn’t agree to that.

Noticing my ambiguous reaction, Jihoon turned to look at me, and our eyes met.

“What? You disagree?”

I deflected from his inquisitive gaze and scratched the bridge of my nose.

“Well… I can’t say it’s impossible, considering I haven’t heard anything either.”

After a moment of silence, Jihoon spoke as we approached the tollgate.

“I’d say, there’s no better indicator than when someone acts contrary to their usual behavior.”

At that point, responding further seemed pointless, so I decided to remain silent. Meanwhile, the car we were in kept traveling through routes I had no knowledge of. The scenery began to look increasingly desolate, but I didn’t know why. As I tried to scan the signs around for clues, Jihoon, in a sudden burst of energy, began acting oddly and drew my attention. After a few moments of this, I perceived him muttering, “I should have brought a blindfold…” loud enough for me to hear. All I learned was that we had passed through Jecheon City thirty minutes earlier.

Still, I felt we were getting closer to our destination. The road kept narrowing, then widening to the point where it felt like I was on a wide plain instead of a garden. I could smell the fresh grass through the open window. I noticed the wind was stronger than in Seoul.

I checked my watch. 5:34 PM. I was glad to know that I could fulfill Lee Jihoon’s request to get back to Seoul before six. It was still light outside, the winter sun not having fully set.

As we neared our destination, Jihoon spoke less. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the wind tousled his well-set hair. After a few moments of looking out the window again, the car finally stopped.

Where we had halted was no different from the plains we had just passed. It was an empty area with not a visible structure. I wondered if we’d see something once we got out. As I loosened my seatbelt, eager to jump out and check out a nearby hill, Jihoon urged me to stay put.

“Just sit tight for a moment.”

“…Aren’t we already here?”

“Yes, but just a moment.”

Before I could speak further, he swiftly exited the vehicle. I saw him sprinting towards the hill through the front window. The white shirt he wore fluttered in the distance.

“…….”

Almost as soon as he said ‘just a moment,’ Jihoon was back, dashing in again and making his white shirt feel as though it stayed with me the whole time. I patiently watched, just as Jihoon had asked, as he approached not from the driver’s side but from the passenger seat.

He opened the door and presented me with his face framed by the wind. My ears caught the sound of his labored breathing as I recognized the flushed cheeks that revealed he had been running.

“Get out.”

Even while he said that, Jihoon’s hair continued to blow wildly in the wind. I couldn’t look away from the sight, struggling to follow his cue and awkwardly exited the car.

The first thing that welcomed me was the wind. Now I understood why Jihoon’s clothes and hair were flailing so dramatically—because of the rushing wind. It was strong enough that I instinctively closed my eyes.

Once I adjusted to the fierce breeze, I blinked opened my eyes. What was before me was a sight I hadn’t witnessed inside the car. A silver light aircraft, stationed on a long runway amid well-kept grass.

I opened my mouth but found myself at a loss for words. Instead, I searched for someone who could explain why all of this existed here. Just when I thought that, Jihoon opened his mouth, his face obscured by the sun. Even so, I sensed he was smiling—a kind of smile I had never seen before.

Behind Jihoon, the sunset unfolded beautifully. He nodded, confirming my thoughts that he was indeed smiling even brighter.

“That’s right. Today, I’m going to fly with you.”

It was my first time boarding a light aircraft. I listened to the instructions from someone who looked like a staff member at the management building on the hill and signed a form. I remember there were safety rules written somewhere, but despite reading them, none of them registered in my mind; I was just too dazed. Jihoon, who had been by my side the whole time, had stepped outside for a last verification before departure. As I followed him outside, I saw him half out of the aircraft, speaking with a uniformed person. Upon noticing me, he stepped down from the plane.

As I watched him approach, I couldn’t help but remain captivated by the light aircraft behind me. While these were commonly seen in the media, receiving such an experience in real life was exceedingly rare. Especially because it was just the two of us taking off together.

“Are you ready?”

Jihoon, who came closer, sported an everyday expression devoid of nervousness. Since he previously piloted larger planes, it made sense, but I wondered why I was the only one feeling anxious.

“…Are we really just going to be the two of us?”

Jihoon squinted as if he were trying to decipher the meaning behind my inquiry before breaking into laughter. He tilted his head to one side and asked, “For now, the only person I want to take flying is you.”

“…….”

“Why? Would you prefer someone else?”

Not anticipating that kind of retort, I was momentarily left speechless. After a moment of silence, I shook my head. Without saying anything further, Jihoon took my arm.

“Let’s go. We need to see the sunset before it’s completely gone.”

The light aircraft seemed larger than one I was familiar with, but it felt narrower inside than expected. The two seats next to the dashboard were all there was. Jihoon placed me in the right seat. To sit properly, I had to bend my knees a little. As I fidgeted in that awkward position, Jihoon playfully tapped my knees.

“Keep your legs together.”

I almost retorted that I could do it myself, but the moment I locked eyes with his serious face, I awkwardly complied. While I managed that, Jihoon took charge of the remaining arrangements. Unlike when getting into a car, he helped me to fasten the safety belts on both sides and even placed the headsets over my ears.

The man I had spoken to earlier came by and closed the door on my side. While Jihoon conversed with him for a moment, he then returned to his seat, turned to me, and tightens my safety belt, checking it once more for good measure. Satisfied, he flashed me an ‘okay’ sign towards the window and closed one of the doors without assistance. The wind noise I had been hearing intermittently on the hill stopped immediately. I swallowed hard; perhaps due to the headset, I felt my heart racing every time I swallowed.

As Jihoon fiddled with various controls on the dashboard, he turned his body back to fasten his own seatbelt. At the push of a button, the propeller began to spin rapidly, vibrating the aircraft slightly. The cockpit monitor lit up, and due to the sudden gain in speed, I felt myself pushed back into my seat. Feeling the firm hand that held onto me so I wouldn’t sway, I turned my head.

Wearing a headset, Jihoon was grinning playfully.

“Do you trust me?”

As the aircraft shook a little more violently, I reluctantly opened my mouth, feeling prompted to respond.

“…I suppose I should trust you now, even if I didn’t before.”

Jihoon shrugged, still laughing.

“Perfect answer.”

As I caught his gaze and held it for a moment, I suddenly realized his left hand had come to rest atop my right knee. He squeezed it tightly before releasing it, winking playfully.

“Just so you know, I’ll keep holding your knee like this. At least until we’re in the air.”

Just at that moment, Jihoon adjusted the mic attached to the headset, causing his playful words to reverberate through the tight space again. I could barely manage a response. As the aircraft accelerated down the runway, I felt like I was gliding on it myself. The sound of the wheels rolling grew increasingly rapid. Jihoon kept the plane steady, eyes fixed ahead.

With a sudden jerk, the aircraft rose as the wheels lifted off the ground. The jarring sensation subsided quickly. I blinked my eyes. The solid ground we’d just been on fell away, replaced by the distant runway and the grass where we had parked.

“Seon-uk. Look at the sky.”

Unlike me, who looked back, Jihoon kept his gaze on the front. I slowly turned my head.

“…….”

A light unlike anything I had ever seen before filled the view. The sun sank over the mountains, and as we flew toward it, I felt like a mayfly darting toward the rays of light emitted from the sun. My words stuck in my throat, unable to find their way out.

Meanwhile, our altitude continued to increase: 600 feet, 900 feet, 1500 feet. Every time we crossed a threshold, I became aware we were climbing higher, thanks to Jihoon’s voice reporting over the mic.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the light ahead of me. It was only when I felt his hand tapping my knee that I realized Jihoon was watching me closely. He wore an expression as if he had been observing me for a long time. His gaze brushed across my face, familiarizing itself with each feature, finally resting on my eyes. I could see the sunset reflected in his eyes as well. Jihoon didn’t look away from that view but silently parted his lips, smiling softly.

“Happy birthday.”

I instinctively understood that I would never receive a birthday gift greater than this moment. Of course, it was the uniqueness of this experience that rendered it so special, but it was even more profound with Jihoon being the one to grant it to me.

I couldn’t express my gratitude as the recipient of this gift. Instead, after some time struggling to gather my throaty voice, I eventually managed to ask.

“What about you?”

“…….”

“What do you think each time you see something like this?”

My question slipped out without prior thought, driven purely by curiosity. Standing in awe before an astonishing sight, the first thought that sprang to my mind was how grateful I was to be here with Jihoon. He frequented flights several times a month, and I just knew this experience of breaking away from the world we’d stood upon just moments ago to soar into such a gorgeous sky would carry memories of sunrises, moonrises, and sometimes starlit skies with them—events I had only seen from the ground.

I became curious about what went through his mind each time he encountered such skies.

Jihoon’s lips, which had been moving, eventually fell silent without offering an answer. The aircraft found a comfortable altitude, and instead of ascending higher, it began to level out and move forward. I turned my gaze away, drawn towards the distant river below. The shimmering reflections on its surface seemed to dance like a farewell to the receding sunlight. I was so frightened of them disappearing that I didn’t dare divert my eyes, finally speaking up.

“…I’m glad thinking you’ll be able to see scenery like this often.”

“…….”

“I feel like you’ll be happy each time you’re in the sky.”

With his eyes still fixed on the horizon, Jihoon asked, “Do you want me to be happy?”

Unlike driving a car, as he piloted the aircraft, Jihoon found it harder to glance back at me. As it was, his focus remained straight ahead, relying on a view further along in the altitude we had risen to. Perhaps that was why it felt a bit easier to speak my mind.

“Yeah.”

“…….”

“As much as you can.”

“…….”

“I hope you do your best to be happy.”

This was the first time I had expressed such a wish to Jihoon. I glanced away before he could search my expression, but the aircraft kept soaring higher. The sun fully set, and one by one, lights flickered on in the town swallowed by darkness.

“We’re heading back now.”

When Jihoon finally said that, I realized it was time to return to the ground. I gazed in amazement as Jihoon communicated with the nearby airport, using terms I did not understand. I made eye contact with him just as he paused to wait for my reply, and he mouthed ‘why’ while looking at me. I shook my head, but once he completed his transmission, I tried again.

“Are you reporting altitude, latitude…that kind of thing?”

I was no expert in aviation terms, but seeing him recite a string of numbers led me to assume so. Jihoon, still glancing at me, lightly nodded.

“Yeah, that’s it. Right now, it’s a brief report, but when working, you have to provide altitude, latitude, longitude, and airspeed too. That’s the basics of communication.”

“Do you ever get it wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Any one of those.”

After a brief moment of contemplation, Jihoon shook his head.

“I don’t. I really dislike making mistakes.”

I only asked out of curiosity, but hearing such a firm answer brought me some relief. Considering Jihoon’s nature, the idea of him making a mistake seemed absurd. The familiar hill emerged on the horizon. Just as Jihoon had said, we were drawing closer to our landing site. I could feel the aircraft swaying slightly, just as it had when we first took off.

“But if you do make a mistake…”

I caught a glimpse of Jihoon’s voice. It was a soft statement, but thanks to the mic, it landed squarely in my ears.

“You just correct the coordinates. Like starting over.”

With a thud, the aircraft rocked again from the sound of the three wheels. Since he thought I wouldn’t hear, Jihoon repeated himself. “Just start over.” I let the sound of his voice wash over me while closing my eyes in preparation for landing. The brief volatility subsided just as rapidly as it had come. The landing was smooth and gentle. The aircraft began to glide down the runway, and before I knew it, we had safely touched down on solid ground.

Eventually, the aircraft slowed to a complete stop, and I could see with my own eyes as the propellers slowed down. It was now completely dark outside. The space outside the plane was pitch black and provided no vision whatsoever. Sounds from the wind and the propellers faded into faint echoes in my ears.

I turned to where Jihoon was positioned, intending to ask how we were supposed to exit. However, before I could even speak, Jihoon moved. I noticed he had already removed the headset. His body moved in close, far too close for comfort. This felt almost surreal, as though the only two people in this tight space were ourselves.

Our noses nearly touched. I could feel the heat radiating from Jihoon’s breath, tinged with a nervous anticipation. His hands, which had been cuping my cheeks, pressed against the headset tightly. His palm felt damp, as if it had been sweating the whole time. Everything about the Jihoon before me felt new and strange. I found myself frozen, unable to look away from him.

As Jihoon leaned in, he nearly met my lips but halted arbitrarily before connecting. His gaze rose for the first time. I could have sworn his eyes carried a glimmer of the setting sun within them, though it was a mix of colors I couldn’t comprehend. Jihoon’s lips trembled, caught in a moment of hesitation, as if he was struggling to hold back whatever thoughts raced through his mind. Yet in the end, he surrendered.

“You.”

Though he didn’t speak into the mic, Jihoon’s voice rang clear. It might have been because his lips brushed so closely against mine, imparting messages that required no words. Each time Jihoon moved his lips, I felt messages conveyed that I had yet to understand.