WOP Ch 4.2

“Ha…”

The chilly weather made white puffs of breath appear with every exhale. The cold night air fell directly onto his cheeks, heralding the approach of midwinter.

Rubbing his reddened fingertips against his coat, Ha Joyoon quickened his pace towards home. The dark alleyways and the streetlights placed at regular intervals illuminated the path beautifully, like Christmas tree lights.

“It’s cold…”

Come to think of it, Christmas wasn’t far off. Ha Joyoon pressed his cold nose with the back of his hand, thinking about his schedule for the following week. His face was serious as he pondered. He needed to start making plans for the next year soon. He couldn’t stay here forever, so he needed to talk to the editor-in-chief after this week.

There was no longer any reason for him to stay. Whatever path he chose, he only had to bear the consequences alone. A sense of loss and freedom, like a gaping hole in his chest, coexisted strangely within him. Ha Joyoon didn’t know how to name this feeling, this emotion.

He briefly looked up at the night sky, devoid of light. As the crescent moon smiled and the stars gently guided the path his life should take, life always moved one step forward. A vague premonition that he, too, had to make a choice pressed deeply into his heart.

His hurried steps slowed as he saw a large figure slumped near the entrance of a house not far from his own.

“…Oh.”

…His narrowed eyes recognized the man and furrowed slightly. He found it difficult to decide what to do in this situation. A relationship, a distance, that he could neither approach nor ignore. Perhaps the distance between him and Kang Taejung had grown as far as his current hesitation. After a long moment of indecision, Joyoon slowly started to approach the drunk man slumped by the gate.

Tap, tap.

As he got closer, the anxious pounding of his heart gradually slowed. Motion-sensing lights flickered on, wary of the intruder.

The scuffed and dusty toes of his shoes, worn from a day of reporting, peeked out shyly. As his last hesitant step landed, Kang Taejung’s condition came into clearer view. He was slumped against the outer wall, his fine hair ruffled by the cold wind.

“…….”

Ha Joyoon, still silently looking down at him, crouched down, bringing his knees together.

“Wow, what a handsome drunkard… Whose son is this?”

As he leaned closer to examine his face, the overwhelming smell of alcohol made him grimace.

“Ugh, the smell of alcohol.”

Joyoon groaned, pulling back slightly before leaning forward again, taking in Kang Taejung’s eyes, nose, and mouth. Such a handsome and dearly missed face. After gazing at him for a while, Ha Joyoon softly uttered his former lover’s name.

“Taejung.”

“…….”

“Taejung.”

A sweet, beloved, and therefore all the more painful name. The more he called his name, the further his beautifully arched eyebrows drooped.

“Taejung, it’s cold.”

His lips tensed at the unfamiliar feeling of his own words. He’d called his name for nearly 30 years, how could it become so painful in just a few months? The awkwardness saddened him, and Joyoon smiled slightly, his brows furrowed.

Taejung, Taejung.

He repeated the call, clear as the crisp air, but the alcohol-soaked man remained motionless. Even when Joyoon carefully shook his shoulder, he didn’t budge. After a moment of scanning his surroundings with a troubled expression, Ha Joyoon finally draped Kang Taejung’s arm over his shoulder. He staggered under the unexpected weight. A familiar scent filled his lungs. It was Taejung’s scent, the scent he longed for, cherished, and loved so much. On the verge of tears, he rubbed his eyes against Taejung’s cold, windswept coat.

“I’m still weak.”

He chuckled, muttering a self-deprecating joke. But as he tried to stand, the last vestiges of his smile vanished. There was a considerable size difference between him and Kang Taejung.

“This isn’t going to work…”

Remembering the fact he’d momentarily forgotten, Ha Joyoon realized he couldn’t move the drunk man on his own.

“Taejung, wait here for a second.”

Struggling with a serious expression, unable to properly lift him, he pushed Kang Taejung’s large body into a corner and looked for another solution. Despite the brief exertion, his forehead was drenched in sweat. He used to be able to handle any situation thanks to his years of fieldwork, but as they say, illness conquers all, and he was no exception.

“My stamina is really gone. This is bad.”

He gave up quickly. After a moment’s hesitation, Ha Joyoon wiped his sweat and pressed the doorbell on the wall. Beep— A bird-like chime rang out. There was no response, as if everyone inside was asleep. He pressed the button several more times before a response came.

— Who is it?

A groggy, middle-aged woman’s voice came through the intercom speaker. At the familiar voice, Ha Joyoon was momentarily speechless, staring blankly at the intercom. An unknown emotion welled up inside him. Finding his silence strange, the woman on the other end repeated her question in an irritated tone.

— Who is it at this hour?

A rush of heat surged behind his eyes. The biting winter wind whipped around him, but it couldn’t cool the burning emotion within. Pressing his cold fingers against his eyes, Ha Joyoon leaned towards the intercom and softly spoke.

“Mother, it’s Joyoon.”

Click.

The intercom cut off before he could say anything more. As he looked up to see what had happened, a creaking sound—the sound of the iron gate opening—was followed by the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs. The last gate opened immediately afterward. It all happened in an instant.

“Yoon’s here.”

Tears welled up in kind, dark eyes. Kang Taejung’s eyes definitely resembled his mother’s. Warm, gentle, meek, and affectionate….

“Mother, it’s been a while.”

Seeing the familiar face brought tears to his eyes. This was Taejung’s family, whom he hadn’t properly visited since a brief greeting after returning to Korea, using his convalescence as an excuse. He had countless excuses, but the biggest reason was his breakup with Kang Taejung. Parting with someone doesn’t end with just the two involved. It affects the relationships built over the long years spent together. Like now, and in the future as well.

“I heard there was a reunion today, did you go with Taejung?”

Remembering the text message sent a few days ago, Ha Joyoon quietly shook his head. So he went to the reunion. Memories of his high school days, when he couldn’t fit in with the all-boys school atmosphere, surfaced. They were neither good nor bad memories.

“I couldn’t go because of work. Taejung went alone.”

“I see. But Yoon, you’re even thinner than the last time I saw you….”

“No, I’m not.”

Taejung’s mother pulled Joyoon into a hug. Despite the significant height difference, it felt like he was enveloped in a large and warm, healing embrace. Wrapping his hesitant arms around her back, Ha Joyoon buried his face in her shoulder. The scent of years of pent-up longing filled his senses as his cold breath scattered.

“You haven’t visited us at all.”

At her affectionate reprimand, Ha Joyoon nuzzled his nose against her shoulder, embarrassed. Past memories, which he thought had faded, replayed vividly as if they had happened yesterday. The meaning of life, the purpose of living, the direction he should take….

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ll visit often from now on, won’t you?”

When he just smiled silently without answering, she shot him a playful glare.

“Look at this kid….”

He had nothing to say but apologize. He couldn’t make any concrete promises, nor did he have the confidence to keep them. No matter how much he longed for and loved them, he couldn’t go back to the way things were. Too much had happened, they had crossed a long river, and he couldn’t hold back someone who had chosen to move forward rather than look back.

“Oh, Mother, Taejung, Taejung is very drunk.”

To change the subject, Ha Joyoon quickly pulled away from her embrace and pointed to a corner by the gate. There, dressed in a dark gray coat, lay a tall man, completely drunk and crumpled. Taejung’s mother followed his finger, her eyes widening as she recognized her son. Her face, etched with fine wrinkles, creased with concern.

“Oh my, he…”

She rushed to Taejung’s side, circling him for a moment before covering her nose from the overwhelming smell of alcohol and turning back to Ha Joyoon. Her face was filled with concern.

“Yoon-ah, I need your help. Taejung’s father is on a business trip and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Thud—

The tall body was thrown onto the bed sheets. His eyes remained tightly shut, and the smell of alcohol permeated every breath he took. Having exhausted his remaining energy getting Taejung up the stairs, Ha Joyoon collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. Taejung’s mother, who had helped carry him, quickly turned around.

“Oh my, I’m so out of it. Yoon-ah, wait here a moment. I’ll get you some water.”

“No, it’s okay…”

“Wait here, don’t go. Okay?”

Before Joyoon could protest further, she hurried down to the kitchen. His outstretched hand, meant to stop her, hung awkwardly in the air.

“Phew…”

Joyoon leaned against the headboard, wiping his sweat-drenched forehead. The familiar scenery of the room swam in his blurred vision, overlapping with scenes buried deep within his memory.

There was a time when I frequented this room. Because I liked you so much. Because I wanted to show you my pictures. Because I wanted to share the things precious to me with you. A faint, fragile smile touched his lips.

It was a nostalgic and bittersweet space, but it was no longer a place he should be.

“I should go.”

Taking a deep breath, Ha Joyoon pushed himself up. It was late, and he needed to go home, shower, and sleep for the next day. Ugh. A groan escaped his lips.

After patting his knees and back a few times, he finally straightened up. The changed perspective gave him a wider view of the room. His gaze lingered on each piece of furniture, each object, filled with unconcealed longing and regret. His wandering eyes stopped at a tightly taped box in a corner of the room. Recognizing its familiar appearance, Joyoon realized it was the box he had given to Taejung through his sister.

He hasn’t opened it yet.

Slowly closing and opening his eyes, Ha Joyoon acknowledged the lingering ache in his heart. Even though he tried not to harbor any more vain hopes and expectations, he knew that the human heart couldn’t be cut clean like a precisely measured line. The roughly torn wound, with its ragged edges, would need more time to heal.

Perhaps Taejung hadn’t opened the box because he wanted to leave the past behind and look only towards the future. No matter how they ended things, each had their own way of dealing with it. There was no need for him to feel resentful or sad about Taejung’s choice.

After a brief pause, Joyoon forced himself to compose his emotions.

“…Uhhh…”

At the faint sound, he stopped and turned back. He saw Taejung, still unconscious, struggling to breathe. His usually bright eyes were tightly screwed shut in apparent pain, making it difficult for Joyoon to look away. His chapped lips parted slowly, uttering a specific sound.

“…Mi… ha…”

He didn’t need to strain his ears to understand the mumbled, slurred name. Youngwoo, Seo Youngwoo. It must be the name Kang Taejung was calling out in a longing voice. Even though he already knew the reality, it still left a fresh wound in his heart. Letting out a small, rueful laugh, Ha Joyoon turned the doorknob.

He acknowledged the reality that the person by Taejung’s side, the person he felt sorry for, the person he called out for in his drunken state, was no longer him.

But even so, he believed that their past love wasn’t meaningless. It was still an unhealed wound, an unforgettable love, but the time they spent together wasn’t meaningless or worthless.

He just hoped that the present pain wouldn’t taint the past years and emotions. Taejung had already suffered and agonized enough because of Joyoon’s mistakes, selfish choices, and errors. He hoped that Taejung could find solace and healing for his loneliness through someone new. Someone who could do and give him what Joyoon couldn’t.

Click.

The hallway outside the room was pitch black, devoid of any light. It seemed to reflect the emptiness in his own heart. Carefully making his way down the stairs, feeling his way along the wall, he ran into Taejung’s mother, who was just coming out of the kitchen with a tray of food. Seeing him, her eyes widened, and Ha Joyoon bowed his head in greeting.

“Mother, I’ll be going now.”

“Leaving already?”

“It’s getting late.”

As he excused himself, scratching the back of his neck, she placed the tray on a shelf in the hallway and walked towards him.

“Come visit more often, you heartless boy.”

“…Yes, I will.”

“Are you going to avoid me just because you two had a fight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie. Both you and Taejung are obviously acting awkward. He might seem mature on the outside, but my son has a stubborn streak. You know him well. He still cares for you a lot, so if you reach out, he’ll pretend to be reluctant but grab your hand right away.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say that he hadn’t just reached out, but had clung to him relentlessly. He remembered how pathetically he had acted towards Kang Taejung just a few months ago, unable to sort out his feelings. Ha Joyoon gave a wry smile and gently held the woman’s hands, her eyes still filled with concern.

“Mother, don’t worry. I didn’t contact you because I was ashamed. There’s no big problem between Taejung and me.”

“…But still…”

Taking a breath, Ha Joyoon forced a smile and continued.

“We’ve just both been busy with our own things and haven’t had time to talk properly, so you don’t have to worry too much.”

He wasn’t sure if he was saying this to Taejung’s mother or to himself, but he poured his sincerity into each word.

“I’m glad to hear that, but I’m still worried that the awkwardness between you two is lasting so long.”

“Even if it’s not right away, we’ll eventually go back to the way we were, so don’t worry too much and go to sleep. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Alright, I understand. I shouldn’t interfere too much either. It’s late, and you must be tired. Thank you so much for today— My son would have frozen to death if it weren’t for you. Go on home now. Say hello to Hyesun for me. I’ll visit you soon.”

“Yes, I will. Goodbye.”

He bowed his head and turned around. Make sure you two make up! He heard her call out, but he didn’t stop.

Creak—

As the iron gate opened, the chilly air hit him, clearing his head somewhat. Adjusting his bag strap, Ha Joyoon hurried down the steps. He felt as if he would lose control of his emotions and make a scene if he stayed any longer.

Someday… after a long time, maybe we can have a different kind of relationship. Once this lingering affection and longing disappears completely, maybe we can genuinely ask each other how we’re doing, share our daily lives, and celebrate each other’s happiness.

Even though it seemed like an impossible dream, Ha Joyoon sincerely hoped it would come true.

“Yoon…ah…”

A voice, distorted by pain, called out a name. The empty cry, unheard by anyone, drifted aimlessly, lighter than the air itself.

❄

The morning interview, originally scheduled to finish before lunch, stretched into the late afternoon. Nam Hyunwoo, his teammate, was also just as hungry, having skipped breakfast as well. They agreed to head straight to a restaurant. They entered the first restaurant they saw, a simple Korean diner. Only after confirming that the last of the data had been sent did Ha Joyoon put his tablet away.

“Are you heading straight back to the office after this?”

“No, I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Must be tough.”

Sipping his warm barley tea, Ha Joyoon nodded softly.

“It’s not so much tough… as it is bothersome. I’m not very diligent about these things…”

“Haha. That’s true. You don’t really strike me as the meticulous type, Ha.”

Laughing heartily, Nam Hyunwoo started gathering tissues and cutlery with practiced ease. The restaurant, well past its peak hours, was mostly empty and quiet.

Buzz—

At the vibrating sound that broke the languid silence, Ha Joyoon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Assuming it was a work-related message, he glanced at the notification, his scrolling momentarily pausing.

「Hello, Reporter Ha, this is Seo Youngwoo from TnG Planning. I couldn’t reach you by phone, so I’m leaving a message. We would like to conduct an interview with you regarding the upcoming project exhibition. We’ll have a preliminary meeting before the main interview, so please reply with your available dates once you’ve seen this message.」

“…….”

A look of unconcealed bewilderment crossed his face as he read the message. Startled by the unexpected sender, Joyoon froze, rereading the message several times, forgetting his surroundings. He bit his lip repeatedly, until it was red and swollen.

“Is that a message from work?”

“Yes.”

“What is it? You look troubled.”

“Ah, it’s about the photo exhibition. They’re asking for my interview schedule, so I was thinking about it.”

He gave a vague answer to Nam Hyunwoo’s question, rereading Seo Youngwoo’s message again and again. He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. When he decided to rejoin the project, he had agreed with the editor-in-chief that he would have to face him eventually, but he couldn’t suppress the unpleasant feelings that arose at the thought of seeing that face again. The human heart was truly fickle.

After a moment of contemplation, Ha Joyoon reluctantly typed out his available dates for the meeting and turned off his phone. He had hoped for some peace of mind during his meal, but a light sigh escaped his lips.

“The year is almost over. There have been so many incidents lately, no time to rest.”

“I know, right?”

As if trying to fight off the afternoon drowsiness, one of the employees sat down and turned on the TV with a remote. Static crackled for a few seconds before switching to a faded picture. It seemed to be a news channel, with a male and female anchor sitting at a desk, continuing their report. Meanwhile, the side dishes, already prepared and waiting to be served, began filling the empty table.

“You’ve been busy too, haven’t you, Ha? I’ve enjoyed working in a team with you, though.”

Ha Joyoon responded to his friendly words with a silent smile. Taking a portion of the seasoned spinach, he handed the gochujang (Korean chili paste) to Nam Hyunwoo. Their conversation flowed easily, mixing everyday chatter with talk about the morning’s assignment. Nam Hyunwoo, mixing the various vegetables together, let out a short exclamation and brought up a new topic.

“Come to think of it, I saw the chief’s wife again this morning.”

Joyoon’s hand, busily carrying food to his mouth, paused. He hadn’t heard anything about it, having left directly for the assignment from home.

“…Really?”

“I ran into her right before I came into the office. She’s even more beautiful up close. The two of them look really good together.”

“She must have had… some business there. A date or something…”

A date.

Even though he had said the word himself, it left an unpleasant aftertaste.

His eyelids and eyelashes trembled noticeably as he looked down at the table. Since their last meeting, he’d barely had any opportunity to see Shin Kwonjoo, neither professionally nor personally. It was as if Kwonjoo had never existed in his life.

Although unintentional, he’d often been away from the office due to reporting assignments and other personal matters, and Kwonjoo, too, had been mostly out for fieldwork and meetings. Even on the rare occasions when they did run into each other, they only exchanged brief glances and nothing more.

It was a coldness befitting the definition of perfect strangers.

He hadn’t intended for it to become like this, but their relationship was already over. Interpersonal relationships were always difficult and complicated for him. They often turned out differently than he imagined, leading to unbearable consequences.

Recalling the events of the past few days, Ha Joyoon suddenly realized something and let out a hollow laugh. It wasn’t unusual for his and Shin Kwonjoo’s schedules to clash. It was actually stranger for there to be any overlap between a photojournalist who was constantly out in the field and a bureau chief who oversaw administrative tasks.

He realized that most of their past encounters had been possible only because Shin Kwonjoo had unilaterally adjusted his schedule or they had met outside of work hours. In other words, without Shin Kwonjoo’s effort, they wouldn’t have had any opportunity to see each other or share any time together.

Perhaps we’ve been forcing ourselves to fit into clothes that don’t suit us. Both you and I.

“Well, I don’t know about a date… I came straight from home, so I don’t know the details, but I heard one of the staff members almost got in trouble for trying to lighten the mood by talking about his wife.”

“He’s sensitive about his private life.”

He was someone who reacted sensitively to any intrusion into his personal space. Mechanically picking at his food, Joyoon recalled the moment when Shin Kwonjoo was with his ex-wife.

“He’s always been like that. But that aside, do you know how tense things have been with the chief lately? He’s become even more sharp-tongued, like something’s going on. I heard every meeting he’s in ends with everyone getting ripped to shreds. You probably haven’t noticed since you barely see him… but our editor-in-chief is practically on the verge of death. I think we should grab a drink this weekend. A consolation drink. Join us if you have time, Ha.”

“I’m not good with alcohol, I’ll just ruin the mood.”

“Come on, you won’t.”

“Haha…”

The memory of their breakup resurfaced. Even though Joyoon’s unilateral declaration was without any justification, Kwonjoo had repeatedly asked for a reason before eventually turning away without any lingering attachment. The emotions he couldn’t express resurfaced.

Joyoon believed that Kwonjoo would have answered if he had asked about his relationship with his ex-wife. He had always been soft towards Joyoon at crucial moments. He knew that Shin Kwonjoo’s tolerance for him was quite high. But Joyoon lacked the courage to take that final, decisive step into his territory.

As his thoughts and emotions swirled in turmoil…

[Now for international news. Early this morning, it was confirmed that two barrel bombs, cluster munitions, and a rocket were dropped on M10 Hospital, located in eastern Aleppo, Syria. The casualties and injuries from this airstrike are…]

The world stopped as if it were a lie. All his cognitive functions and nerves focused on the old television in the corner of the restaurant. Frozen, Ha Joyoon exhaled slowly and deeply.

A strange tension filled the air around the table, which had been lively just moments ago. The faded images on the screen showed a completely destroyed building and bloodied people. Nam Hyunwoo, who had been watching the news with him, cautiously spoke.

“That’s terrible… Oh, come to think of it, that’s where you were reporting from, isn’t it, Ha?”

“…Yes.”

“Looks like the ceasefire between the government forces and the rebels is over. I bet Russia instigated it, as usual. Such a mess…”

The anchor, dressed in a dark gray suit, continued his report on the brutal massacre taking place in a small country, his expression impassive. His voice, so mechanical and monotonous, somehow amplified the reality of the event.

[Due to the bombing that occurred on the 15th and this recent airstrike, both M2 and M10 hospitals have completely suspended all medical activities, leaving only six hospitals in Aleppo currently operating normally, with fewer than 30 doctors engaged in treatment activities. In response, the U.S. and Russia have each taken differing stances…]

Tak.

Setting the chopsticks down fully on the table, Ha Joyoon narrowed his eyes to not miss a single frame of the scene playing on the screen. A truly devastating and horrific scene unfolded like a movie. Blood-soaked beds, medical equipment wrecked by the bombardment, collapsed buildings. People—patients and medical staff alike—severely injured without distinction, and the hospital surroundings, now in ruins, were all too familiar to him. The place that had kept him alive until he opened his eyes after the gunfire. The space where those who never let go of his hand had been. How could he ever forget that place?

And the moment the screen transitioned to the next scene, his brown pupils dilated as wide as they could, all his movements freezing in place.

It flashed by quickly, but there was no mistaking it.

Ah…

With a faint gasp, his face turned ashen, as though all the blood had drained from it.

The boy being rescued from between the collapsed buildings by White Helmet responders and carried away was now more fittingly described as a young man. His tightly shut eyes no longer revealed the sharp, brilliant gaze they once held. Your eyes were like jewel-encrusted vessels holding your pure soul. Did you know that when I was with you, I somehow became influenced by your sandstorm-like spirit, feeling gratitude for life and happiness?

Collie.

My little friend whom I met in a foreign land.

My savior, my beloved comrade, child of the desert.

Click. Click—

The arrow-shaped mouse cursor darted across the brightly lit monitor. Joyoon typed an email address into the recipient field, then paused, taking a deep breath. He repeatedly cross-checked the address he’d scribbled on a memo pad, worried he might have gotten it wrong. His face, reflected in the monitor in the dark room, looked paler than usual.

The sound of the keyboard clacking filled the silent room. He recalled the desert night that had endured millions of years of erosion, the beautiful rock formations, the deep blue sky filled with countless stars, the vast expanse of sand like a white carpet, and those who lay beneath it, discussing the meaning of life together.

‘Philip, I don’t know when you’ll be able to check this message. But I pray that God be with you.’

Each syllable typed by the machine carried the desperate longing he’d forced himself to bury since returning home.

Only after writing the final greeting did his calm gaze shift to a corner of the desk. His eyes landed on a crumpled piece of paper lying near the keyboard. The memo, scribbled hastily in urgent handwriting, contained Philip Bauer’s email address, passed on through Mecklen.

His footsteps, which had been steadily heading toward their destination, slowed. A long shadow stretched across the ground like dusk, trailing the red sunset. The yellow streetlights, preparing for the approaching night, flickered faintly, trembling intermittently as if mirroring someone’s heart.

White breath dispersed into the air with each exhale, neither knowing who started it first. Deep, serious eyes turned toward a lover he hadn’t seen in a while. Sensing his presence, the other, who had been still until then, finally rustled and moved.

“Hyung.”

Stepping away from the wall, his face fully emerged into the light. Even as Seo Youngwoo forced a strained smile toward him, Kang Taejung couldn’t easily approach, only letting out a faint breath. The briefcase in his right hand felt heavy enough to drop at any moment. Noticing his hesitation, Seo Youngwoo squinted one eye slightly and forced a faint smile.

“Youngwoo-ya.”

A choked voice called his name. To catch even a hint of the emotion in that tone, Seo Youngwoo had to sharpen all his senses to the fullest. He took quick steps to stand in front of Kang Taejung.

“What brings you here? Didn’t you say you were working late tonight?”

“I just… wanted to see you. Overtime can wait until tomorrow.”

They spoke while lightly holding each other’s arms, cautious of being seen. The consideration that always adjusted to him felt especially piercing today, and Kang Taejung, avoiding his lover’s cold hands, silently swallowed the guilt he couldn’t voice.

“You could’ve called ahead.”

“I only meant to see you for a moment and leave. And I also wanted to see your face because it feels like you’ve been distracted lately, with just calls or texts.”

At the careful remark pointing out his indifference, Kang Taejung gave a bitter smile. Seo Youngwoo’s words weren’t wrong in the slightest.

Ever since hearing from his mother that Ha Joyoon had carried him home, drunk and passed out in front of the house after a reunion, Taejung’s entire focus had been fixated on that incident. It was an excessive rumination he couldn’t control, and no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things, he couldn’t forget it. What did you say? What did I say to you? Did I, under the influence of alcohol, expose my dark, ugly heart to you? Yet here I am, unable to even check if you’re okay.

“Did I do that? Sorry… Come in for a bit.”

At the kind but hollow invitation, Seo Youngwoo stepped back and shook his head.

“I actually need to head back to the office. I was out on a field job nearby and stopped by because I thought of you… but I lost track of time wandering the neighborhood. I think it’s my first time here near your family home. It’s quiet and really nice.”

As Seo Youngwoo glanced around observantly, unfiltered jealousy seeped into his gaze—the place where his lover was born and raised, spent his school days, met friends… and.

“Lately, it feels like our relationship’s been shaky.”

Taejung’s arm, reaching forward, hesitated for a moment. Looking silently at Kang Taejung’s hand that didn’t reach him, Seo Youngwoo tapped the ground lightly with his foot, meaninglessly.

“It’s like we’re just skimming the surface, I guess. I can’t quite explain it.”

“…Youngwoo-ya.”

“Back then, even meeting you by chance felt genuinely good.”

At twenty, in the tender, youthful days when I was grappling with confusion about my sexual identity, it was my first love that struck like lightning. A tall, striking figure, a noticeably handsome appearance, a kind personality, ingrained thoughtfulness, and a maturity I couldn’t find in my peers—it felt as though the ideal type I’d only imagined in my head had leapt into reality.

“There were days when just exchanging a single word with him made me happy, and as time passed, hearing him call my name felt so good.”

“…”

“Back then, that alone was enough to satisfy me.”

Recalling the past, Seo Youngwoo muttered self-deprecatingly.

At first, it might have been his physical qualities that drew me in, but the more I got to know Kang Taejung as a person, the more I felt a deeper, human charm and love in his profound inner self. My unripe feelings gradually orbited around him, growing deeper and taking on richer hues the longer we spent together.

Under the pretext of seeking advice, I even confessed my sexual identity. Revealing that I was gay without knowing his orientation was a gamble, but rather than pushing me away, Kang Taejung comforted the heart that had been hurt by others. From that moment, what started as mere affection began to blossom into love.

How much more did those feelings grow? When they swelled beyond what I could handle, Seo Youngwoo, after much deliberation, finally confessed his heart.

But the response he received was a rejection so firm it felt cruel. Only after the faint hope he’d clung to crumbled did Seo Youngwoo learn of Kang Taejung’s long-time lover. How could he put into words the despair he felt back then? Even knowing the man he loved had someone else, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. Years passed like that.

Chewing over the time he’d endured and persevered, Seo Youngwoo clenched his fist tighter. The one-sided conversation, met with no response from the other, continued.

“I feel like I can’t be satisfied anymore, and my greed just keeps growing.”

“…”

“I’ve tried hard to remember the old days when I could be content with small things during the times we couldn’t meet.”

He hadn’t imagined that those feelings from back then would persist even now, ten years later. The kindness Kang Taejung had shown him was merely a social courtesy extended equally to everyone. If he’d known the limits of that heart beforehand, would he have even started? Seo Youngwoo shook his head again.

“No matter how painful or hard it gets, I still prefer being by your side. No matter how I think about it, that’s the only conclusion I reach.”

To usher in a spring that would one day bloom, winter sent its remaining chill into the wind. The tip of his nose, peeking out above a khaki checkered scarf, was red from the cold.

The more Seo Youngwoo spoke, the more Kang Taejung couldn’t help but feel an inescapable sense of déjà vu in his emotions. Starting with satisfaction, only to crave more as time passed; struggling irrationally and inefficiently to claim a place by his side despite knowing it wouldn’t work; the overwhelming heat of those emotions that consumed him all the more because of it. The remnants of a deep love to which he’d devoted and burned away both his teens and twenties. The scorched path left by the flames.

“Hyung.”

A choked voice called out to him. Kang Taejung lifted his leaden head and met his lover’s gaze with difficulty. A shallow-rooted relationship swayed precariously with just a single mischievous gust of winter wind. After a pause, Seo Youngwoo cautiously continued.

“Can you forgive me just this once?”

“What are you talking about?”

At the faintly puzzled look in his eyes, Seo Youngwoo forced a trembling smile onto his lips. His eyes were already brimming with regret.

“I’ll tell you once I muster a little more courage. And I’ll really treat you well, so just this once, if you could overlook my mistake…”

At that moment, Kang Taejung shook his head, cutting off Seo Youngwoo’s words. The biting wind clawed at his cheeks and heart.

“…What could you have done so wrong?”

“…”

“Even if you did, do I have the right to forgive you?”

“Hyung…”

Kang Taejung covered his eyes with his palms, hiding his selfish emotions. A bitter guilt stabbed at his chest repeatedly. The result of focusing only on his own wounds was shockingly selfish and disastrous. Unable to make a proper decision, he’d been too busy hurting those entangled with him. He’d never thought of himself as such a worthless, pathetic person.

“The one doing unforgivable things to you is me.”

“…Hyung.”

“No matter what wrong you’ve done, it’s not worse than me.”

Since reuniting with Ha Joyoon, he hadn’t once tried to properly examine his own heart or taken the time to do so. All he’d done was block the fear and pain rushing at him in real-time. It was an unrefined defense, a cowardly evasion.

His first experience with a breakup was so clumsy that it ended up turning the long years he’d spent with Ha Joyoon into trash. And yet, now that he sensed Ha Joyoon trying to move on from him, he was tormented by a hollow ache that felt like it would pierce his heart. In the rift between reality and emotion, Kang Taejung realized his wilted heart was slowly rotting.

“Youngwoo-ya.”

“Hyung, what’s wrong…”

Seo Youngwoo’s trembling voice sounded pitiful and heartbreaking. Knowing he didn’t deserve to be treated this way only deepened the anguish.

Ultimately, his unresolved inner turmoil kept him from focusing on his relationship with Seo Youngwoo. Even though he knew Youngwoo was anxious, even though he knew of his pure, unwavering love, Taejung shrank back, unable to reciprocate fully. The obsession and duty to “do well” drove him to the edge of a cliff.

But not like this. It shouldn’t be like this. This wasn’t the courtesy owed to someone who’d gradually opened their heart to him. Kang Taejung bit his lip and took a heavy step forward, as if his feet were made of lead. The feelings he’d been unable to voice until now spilled out through words. Impulsive, yet worn smooth by endless contemplation.

“Like you said…”

“…”

“I can feel that our relationship is going off track.”

“Hyung!”

The faint sound of breathing stopped for a moment. With a face drained of color, Seo Youngwoo lifted his head straight and stared at his lover. The slight distortion in his expression hinted at what was to come, and his vision darkened.

Seo Youngwoo unconsciously extended a trembling hand and took another step forward. “Hyung.” A faint groan escaped, like smoke on the verge of dissipating.

“Maybe I couldn’t give you certainty because I wasn’t certain of my own heart.”

Words sharp as blades fell from the lips he’d always longed to kiss. Each word stabbed into him like a dagger. He could no longer continue speaking through the shock. He’d known their emotions moved at different paces, but he’d thought time would sort it out. Even so, lately, Kang Taejung had been noticeably trying to improve their relationship, which might’ve made him believe in it more firmly. There was no reason for such a blunt assessment to come up so suddenly. Without realizing it, Seo Youngwoo grabbed Kang Taejung’s arm.

But despite his desperation, the situation was veering toward the outcome Seo Youngwoo most wanted to avoid.

“Youngwoo-ya. Let’s take some time apart.”

“Time? What… what do you mean? No, hyung.”

“Youngwoo-ya.”

Kang Taejung’s thick eyebrows twisted deeply. He found his selfish, raw cowardice laughable. Even now, his desire to untangle this mess and understand his own heart outweighed his concern for the pain Seo Youngwoo would feel. Would you still cling to me like this if you knew my heart?

Forcing down the rising self-mockery, Taejung struggled to continue.

“I want to understand my heart properly. Right now… I don’t know anything. What I want, why I feel like I’m going crazy, like I’m dying, what I want to do with you. I know how selfish this sounds. I think my actions are the worst too. If you don’t agree…”

“If I don’t agree?!”

A cruel impulse burst out unconsciously. A scream like it was tearing him apart echoed through the alley. His clenched teeth trembled, and his eyes brimmed with tears. Kang Taejung’s gaze, watching Seo Youngwoo’s violently shaking body, wavered just as much.

“If I don’t agree, it means we break up, doesn’t it?”

“Youngwoo-ya.”

“Whether we break up now or later, how’s that different from telling me to choose? Why would you suddenly say something like that? And on the street like this? I can’t understand it at all.”

“…”

A silence that didn’t deny it lingered. Sadness settled over his masculine yet gentle and refined face.

“Hyung, I’m so confused right now. I never even imagined this situation. If it was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have started with you.”

Pressing down his trembling jaw as if to suppress it, Seo Youngwoo shook his head roughly.

“If it’s because of that person… if that’s the reason, it’s okay. I never thought it’d be resolved quickly anyway, so I can wait a little more patiently.”

“You know it’s not because of Yoon-i.”

“…”

“It’s my problem.”

Laughing as if about to cry, Kang Taejung wiped his cheek again. It was hard to find the direction of his heart—torn, patched, and unraveling. It was absurd, but only now was he slowly realizing that Ha Joyoon had returned. At such a slow pace, far too slow.

“Don’t you think I know how good you’ve been to me? I’m still grateful, and if it weren’t for you, I’d really be a mess.”

Recalling the past, Kang Taejung continued cautiously. Back then, he’d been so broken beyond repair that even remembering that time still felt difficult and painful.

Seo Youngwoo had been the one who stayed with him through that hellish period. How could he express that gratitude, that affection, in words? That’s why he couldn’t be unaware that his current half-hearted attitude was hurting Seo Youngwoo again. Whatever the conclusion, he now had to clearly define his wavering heart.

“That’s why I want more time. I don’t think we can maintain a proper relationship like this.”

“I don’t want that.”

Peeling Seo Youngwoo’s hands off his arms, Kang Taejung answered firmly.

“I feel like this isn’t right—for you or for me.”

“No, hyung.”

“I’m sorry, Youngwoo-ya. But give me some time.”

He hadn’t come here to hear this. He hadn’t come to hear this… just to check if he was meeting that person. To see where that person lived, if they were still visiting each other’s homes.

He admitted it. It was a crude, pathetic, miserable heart.

A wretched heart born from ugly jealousy and inferiority.

But at the root of all those feelings was only a desperate wish to protect his relationship with Kang Taejung. He hadn’t meant to give him an excuse to end things like this.

It wasn’t hard to predict that the time he spoke of, and the decision reached after long deliberation, wouldn’t be positive. But with his lips pressed into a firm line and his unwavering gaze, there was no room left for compromise to voice his anxiety.

“The Taejung hyung I knew… is that really you?”

“Youngwoo-ya.”

“…I don’t know why you feel so unfamiliar. Were you always like this? Deciding alone without discussion and just informing me so I have to accept it? Why are you so cruel…”

Receiving that merciless gaze unfiltered, Seo Youngwoo felt the terror of the ground beneath him shattering and plummeting into an abyss. What had been tender affection turned into love, and that fiery love was morphing into an obsession that devoured them both. But engulfed in the flames of pain, he couldn’t recognize his own sickening heart. His anguished sobs continued for a long while.

❄

The sound of typing alone announced a presence in the quiet room. Piles of documents stacked beside the desktop and a screen filled with electronic files spoke for the workload the man had to handle.

“…”

After hours of relentless exposure to screen glare, his once-smooth brow finally creased. Shin Kwonjoo roughly rubbed his fatigue-laden eyes and downed the already-cold coffee in one gulp.

With his return to headquarters approaching, there was a mountain of tasks to sort out. The role of bureau chief had only been temporary anyway, meant to stabilize the Asia bureau. He needed to organize materials to hand over to his successor, who would lead the bureau after him, and upon returning, he’d dive back into the editor-in-chief role, preparing for frontline work again. In many ways, it was a daily life where not a single day could be wasted.