Chapter Index
    …Why is that bastard there?

    [Actor Cha Hyuk-joon held a press conference around 8 PM on December 3rd to address various allegations surrounding him. He acknowledged that he is the person referred to by the initial ‘C’ in connection with the shocking Hongcheon villa incident that involved many celebrities on November 15th, emphasizing that he will actively cooperate with the ongoing investigation. Contrary to popular belief, he named Choi Jeong-ho, chairman of Taehang Construction, as the drug supplier instead of director Kim Myung-rim.]

    The screen changed once more, proving that what I had seen was not a delusion. Instead of a side photo where his face was obscured by a mask, a large profile picture, clear in all features, appeared. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen, my mind racing.

    November 15th? The date felt oddly familiar. As I reflected, it dawned on me. That day was the Friday when Ji Seon-uk, usually busy, returned to buy me coffee after rushing out. It was also the day when Young-soo and I had fondu in the ownerless house, it snowed that night, and I learned about it from a call from Seon-uk early the next morning.

    A day when a guy, who seldom showed emotions, looked so incredibly happy—it was a sight rarely seen in our lives.

    “Are you not in pain anymore?”

    The expression on his face when he looked at the wounds that I had almost completely forgotten was still vivid in my mind. It was a face he hadn’t even shown me on the day I fought with Cha Hyuk-joon. I never imagined that he would express such an emotion while recalling my story, and I could only stare at him in shock.

    “Remember. Even your locker number.”

    Could it be…

    No matter how much I learned that Seon-uk had paid my rent for a year in New York, or that he chose to delete a message instead of sending it to me while on the plane, it was a stretch to think that the incident might somehow be connected to me. It felt ludicrous, almost deluded. Yet, in the midst of trying to think rationally, that ‘what if’ thought surged forth like waves, brushing away my reasoning.

    I now understood that if it were Seon-uk, he would never tell me if he were involved in something like this. Because that’s how he loved me; he walked quietly on the sand, muffling his footsteps, allowing even the traces of his footprints to wash away with the tide.

    If I couldn’t hear his footsteps or see his footprints, the only option left was to ask him directly.

    I gripped the handle of my suitcase tightly. The crowd that had gathered around the television had dispersed, leaving the space empty. I turned around. I was sure I had started walking, but before I knew it, I was running. The fact that Seon-uk was not among the many people filling the airport allowed me to run without worrying about anything for the first time.

    I had to see Seon-uk immediately.

    Once I saw him, I would ask. Would what I had dismissed as a delusion ever be something you believed was normal?

    * * *

    I straightened my body as if emerging from a narrow space. The moment I looked around, feeling drenched like I had just splashed cold water all over me, I realized the space I had just exited was a dream—a excessively vivid and unbearably unsettling dream.

    “…Ha.”

    I rubbed my face with my hand, trying to piece the dream back together.

    Today, my dream featured my grandfather again. Since a month ago, he started showing up every three days. His recent appearances had become increasingly frequent. There must be a reason why he kept coming to my dreams, yet no matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t grasp it. During my vacation, I often visited, yet during even busier times, he didn’t appear at all.

    In my dream, I simply watched my grandfather lying in the room, reminiscent of a rainy autumn night when I was twenty. The difference now was that I could not speak to him. I looked at his moving shoulder blades, which put my mind at ease, as if it were a sign that he wasn’t dead—just asleep. It felt like visiting my grandfather in the hospital while clutching his warm hand with relief.

    Today’s dream was different; it wasn’t a rainy night but a hot daytime with bright sunshine, where I sat across from my grandfather on the terrace. He had brought back meat from the market early in the morning—a trait that had become uncommon in him. I recalled that vivid scene and realized it was an experience I had lived through.

    That day had actually been unusually hot for autumn. Despite wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and shorts, I was sweating. After attempting to snatch the tongs from me a few times unsuccessfully, my grandfather settled into silence, his usual blunt expression after failing to take a piece of grilled meat I had placed on the plate for him. He seemed lost in thoughts, looking at me without revealing what was on his mind. It reminded me very much of Seon-uk.

    ‘…You’re no kid; why are you arguing?’

    It wasn’t something I would confess to him about Seon-uk and me having a fight, nor had I ever said anything like that. I was momentarily speechless as it seemed my grandfather knew everything. I scratched my cheeks awkwardly, and in the subsequent moments, when I touched a recent bruise from my fight with B, I realized that might have prompted him to speak.

    Even in a dream replaying that day, such moments lingered. Just as I regained my composure, trying to deflect the conversation lightly, my grandfather started nagging again.

    “Don’t worry too much and keep your relationships healthy.”

    “…Huh?”

    “I’m telling you not to fight over trivial matters. You’re not kids, you’re grown men…”

    This was odd. My grandfather had never said those words. He only rolled his eyes at my mundane joke about who fought how many rounds. His gaze as he looked straight at me while clicking his tongue didn’t match my memories of him at all.

    The moment I realized this as the truth seeped in, I looked around, taken aback as the yard before me distorted. The grill, the two-person table, even my grandfather’s hunched shoulders disappeared as if they were being sucked away. I stiffened in the sudden dark that replaced the light. It reminded me of the last time I had fallen asleep beside my mother and heard her voice in a dream, wishing me happiness over and over.

    Those who leave always express their wishes like commands. As if it were their last endeavor upon departing this place.

    The dream left me with an uneasy aftertaste, lingering long enough that I thought I might need to visit the hospital. My bangs, brushed back earlier, were moist with sweat. It reminded me of the day I last saw my mother. I thought it would be best if I went as soon as I could since I would be flying out again in two days. I wanted to confirm if my grandfather was doing okay before that for my peace of mind.

    Speaking of which, should I go now? The room was dark, as it seemed to confirm it was winter, blocking out light. I attempted to check the clock on the bedside table but froze when realizing I might disturb the person sharing the blanket with me.

    “……”

    The moment I saw the white face of the person sleeping soundly beside me, I felt all tensions in my body ease. The anxiety that had been building inside me like a balloon on the verge of bursting quietly deflated. I changed my mind about getting up and lay back down. Studying Seon-uk’s peacefully sleeping face, I gently reached out a hand. I left the blanket wrapped around him, carefully hugging him from behind, hoping it would remain undisturbed for a while longer.

    Cuddled against his warm body, I breathed in the faint scent of body wash that mingled with the odor of skin. Seon-uk’s bed, Seon-uk’s pillow, Seon-uk’s body. Things I had thought I needed to keep at a distance now existed naturally beside me after waking up. Even while staring at him, my brain was having a hard time believing it, prompting me to touch him to reinforce the reality—a reality filled with unfamiliar sensations.

    Yes, we slept together last night. After all these years, we had never been this close before.

    After some time had passed, and with the realization that there was no way he would push me away upon waking, I finally called his name.

    “…Seon-uk.”

    Even though I had called his name countless times over the past 14 years, I recognized I had never called it like this before. I felt it in my bones that things would never be the same before and after this moment.

    Calling out with an unwavering affection felt strangely embarrassing. It was so unusual and marvelous that I decided to say it again.

    “Seon-uk.”

    If words stumbled, it might look like this. Even as I said it, I didn’t quite feel the weight of my call, so I muttered it again under my breath before lifting my gaze to confirm Seon-uk’s presence. Upon seeing him, with my elbow resting on the pillow, I couldn’t help but burst into a smile at the sheer realization of admiring someone without him even knowing it.

    “…How will you go to work like this?”

    Though it was my day off, I remembered that Seon-uk had to go to work today, just like any other day. Just a few hours ago, I helped him dress after he had passed out right after stepping out of the shower. He looked so exhausted that he probably didn’t even notice he was being dressed. I thought it was typical of him to sleep soundly without tossing and turning, but now that I lifted the blanket, revealing his fair skin, I felt a little disappointed since that narrative seemed to falter.

    I grabbed the hem of the t-shirt stuck under the blanket and lifted it to peek underneath. My earlier traces were untouched among the many familiar scars on his skin. For some reason, it felt embarrassing to see the noticeable marks left by my affections against his white skin. It made me realize how reckless I could be—of course, one must choose the timing and place for such vivid actions. Still, I was relieved to see at least his neck area was clean.

    Shaking my head, I lowered the t-shirt. It was only after carefully covering him with the blanket again that I noticed the clock showed it was six. Since it was still early, I figured I could catch a glimpse of Seon-uk before making a quick trip to the hospital to see my grandfather. Mentally organizing my plan, I looked down.

    “Seon-uk.”

    I called out again, this time louder so he could hear me. I gently pulled back the blanket that snugly wrapped around him before filling the space with my body. The hard, cold nature of my bare flesh, stamped against his body, must have been absurd enough for him to furrow his brow as he tried to wake up, but I held him even tighter.

    “I’m just going out to the hospital to see my grandfather. I should be back before you leave for work, but just in case, I’ll prepare food for you. If you wake up first, you can eat.”

    As I whispered into his ear, I caught the back of his head and let out a laugh. Memories of last night came flooding back, like when I had carefully dried his hair with a towel, fearing he might wake up to the sound of a hairdryer. I knew I would see more of this side of him in the future. Though Seon-uk remained unaware of it, I could tell from sleeping beside him, seeing his vulnerable side that would not be revealed in front of anyone else.

    I wasn’t aware that waking up beside someone in a bed could make one feel so emotionally vulnerable. The bed, which had only served as a sleeping space, had now become a place I hesitated to leave because it was filled with Seon-uk’s scent. I even thought about asking Seon-uk not to go to work and instead spend one more day in this bed together. The thought of discussing everything we hadn’t said to each other while digging into each other’s most intimate places, kind of like hungry folks. Silencing those juvenile thoughts I had never entertained, even when I knew nothing about working life, I rose from the bed.

    Determined as I was, I got dressed in the other room but came back to Seon-uk’s room once more. Seeing him still asleep on the side, completely oblivious, brought me relief but also a mischievous urge to kneel down beside him.

    It reminded me of Seon-uk’s habit of sleep-talking. That was something I had discovered while trying to wake him up for the past few mornings as he had started sleeping in more. He never responded when I called out his name casually, but when the time approached for him to go to work, and I called out in a slightly urgent tone, he would sometimes respond faintly.

    I cleared my throat. After a few attempts, I managed to say his name firmly.

    “Ji Seon-uk.”

    “…Yes….”

    His lackluster answer was just as I expected; it made me chuckle. Even without opening his eyes, he responded to my call as if that was a habit he had formed while working.

    Feeling a surge of affection at the sight of him, I softened my earlier tone.

    “Ji Seon-uk.”

    See? If I call softly, he doesn’t respond.

    I stared at him, now resting my lips close to his ear, casting a shadow over his face, and said something that felt ridiculous to say in a stern tone.

    “Ji Seon-uk, you like me, right?”

    “…….”

    “…Wow, you’re not answering this time?”

    I grumbled but remained persistent, calling out to him once more.

    “Ji Seon-uk.”

    This time, in a teasing manner, I gently rubbed his cheek. His mouth opened as he winced, possibly from the tickling sensation. His “yes, yes…” was repeated, just enough to feel like he wanted something from me. I thought it was both ridiculous and endearing, so I pressed my lips against his cheek. After briefly pressing my lips on the dot on his cheek, I finished my juvenile game.

    “Well, I like you too.”

    I chuckled at the silliness of it all. As I rose to leave, I turned around to look at him one last time. I took out my phone as I gazed at him sleeping soundly. Since Seon-uk had no idea that he talked in his sleep, what I had said would obviously slip his mind. If he woke up before I returned, he might be surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. As I was about to message him, I hesitated, thinking I might have to reveal my unease from last night’s dream about my grandfather. Instead, I simply wrote that I would be stepping out for a bit.

    As soon as I sent the message, my phone buzzed from the pants that were carelessly thrown on the floor. It seemed my message sent well. I laughed once more and hurried out of the room. I needed to be swift if I wanted to return before Seon-uk woke up.

    Grandfather always brought flowers when he visited the hospital. At first, it was hard to adjust to it. I thought he would throw away the unnecessary flowers, but he would come with bouquets, which had nothing to do with the harsher realities of life. My grandfather, who was skilled with his hands, learned how to fix things in people’s homes, busy as he was fixing up the houses for the neighbors.

    Nobody usually brings flowers to the hospital. Vitamin drinks and fruit baskets accumulated in the corners of the patient rooms, while flowers getting placed in vases were rare. Because of that, my mother always looked particularly happy when she received the bouquets from my grandfather. She would inhale the scent of the flowers, grinning ear to ear while commenting on the wonderful selection he had picked. Standing attentively at the foot of her bed, my grandfather would listen quietly and occasionally respond with a few words.

    Time passed before I understood. My grandfather brought flowers as a reminder of the outside world. He would wrap my mother’s favorite wildflowers around the edges and stuffed various colors of blooms in the center. Those bouquets resembled something more along the lines of encouragement than comfort. So much so that when she looked at the flowers, she seemed less like a patient.

    Now, in place of my grandfather, I am the one who brings flowers. I hope that someday when he awakens, he’ll notice the flowers beside him and realize someone was waiting for his return.

    The flower shop, not far from the hospital, became a regular stop for me. I came to recognize the owner so well that it felt normal to exchange greetings. The owner, who often left for the flower market before sunrise twice a week, opened the shop early.

    This morning, the store was already open when I arrived. The space filled with the scent of grass rather than pure flowers attacked my senses. The owner turned around, evidently aware of my presence while moving a large tree.

    “Our regular customer has arrived!”

    I smiled back, following his familiar smile that seemed to light up his face.

    “You’ve been busy since early this morning as well.”

    “What do you expect? It’s not just a day or two. The flowers are in great shape today; you’ve come at the right time. Would you like the usual?”

    The owner held up a different type of flower compared to the last bouquet I had taken to the hospital. When I nodded, he skillfully picked up the flowers and pressed them together. Behind him, freshly wrapped bouquets cluttered the shop.

    “Is that a blue rose?”

    The owner turned around as he deftly folded the wrapping paper. He nodded.

    “Yep, that’s a blue rose. Looks fresh, right? I brought some more than usual because the condition was so good.”

    As he said, the roses wrapped in newspaper appeared vibrant. I could even see droplets of water glistening on the petals. It seemed he noticed my lingering gaze.

    “Would you like to go with that?”

    He was so ready to change the bouquet at my nod. After contemplating for a moment, I smiled and shook my head. Once he had arranged a bouquet nearing completion, I pulled out my card and said, “Could you make another bouquet with the blue roses?”

    “That means you’re going to the hospital twice today?”

    “No. The roses aren’t for the hospital.”

    “Then?”

    It appeared surprising to him, considering I had never purchased a bouquet for anything else during all my visits over the years. The curiosity filled his face as he awaited my answer, and that made me aware of how unlike myself I was being.

    But now, I felt I could do that. Having gone through what I did last night, I could finally speak up.

    Because I knew Seon-uk would accept it.

    ‘We’re not finished, are we?’

    With a person who would say “we” are not broken, I felt optimistic about the future.

    “I’m giving it to someone I like.”

    Despite the notion that roses could feel too intimate for this kind of relationship between men, I felt no need to back down from that. I needn’t hide my joy in having one of the bouquets that Seon-uk held while taking pictures during our graduation day.

    I should acknowledge that Seon-uk likes blue slightly more and maybe he likes me even more than that.

    The owner unexpectedly watched me for a moment, then broke into a hearty laugh, as if realizing “If that’s the case, I have to pay extra attention!” He turned around while sticking his stomach out, honing in on his task of perfecting the bouquets.

    As I stepped outside, the street greeted me with freshly peeled bright dawn lights. Ignoring the chill seeping through areas not covered by my coat, I hurried towards the hospital entrance. I wanted to see Seon-uk’s expression upon receiving the blue roses as soon as possible.

    Fortunately, my grandfather was fast asleep. The depth of his sleep felt almost like an eternity, making my throat dry just watching him. But I could tell it was not a sleep driven by a desire to doze off, knowing that Seon-uk had just fallen asleep next to me.

    Staring at his expressionless face, I realized the scene of him speaking to me earlier was merely a dream. It dawned on me that I would likely never see my grandfather speaking again in reality. The other day, my father visited the hospital and I recalled his heaviness in voice revealing his emotions to me. Unable to directly inquire about my grandfather, who might just turn to ashes if left unasked, my father returned, saying my grandfather might not have much time left. Thus, he told me to take care of Seon-uk beside me, to prepare properly for what was to come.

    Note