WOP Ch 5.3

A kind, warm voice called his name again. Kang Taejung finally burst into tears again at the affectionate call, as if comforting the terrible time he had to endure, and the words that followed.

“You were my everything.”

“…….”

“You were my world… I wanted to show you everything I saw. The reason I picked up the camera was you….”

At the bittersweet, deep, and brilliant traces of love, the irrational fear, dread, and trembling that had persisted like an anxiety patient gradually subsided. A faint scent of soap slowly permeated the air. His explosively pounding heart gradually returned to its normal rhythm, and his ceaseless cold sweat quickly cooled.

Focus slowly returned to his empty pupils. The irrational thought and anxiety that perhaps this time Ha Joyoon might really die, that he might not return from the war zone, began to dissipate little by little.

“Taejung… you, you… were the reason I had to come back….”

The slow, tearful confession pierced deep into his heart. Ah. Swallowing a moan of near madness, Taejung tightened his arms around Joyoon.

“But these words… how selfish they were… I know now… that feeling was a shackle… that held your life hostage… that it stole all your time… I know….”

A hot feeling rose in his throat. Only after facing reality in a state of calmness did Kang Taejung finally fully realize who he had ignored, hurt, and coldly abandoned. The warm embrace, the slight trembling, the soft scent—everything told him with his whole being that the person in his arms was alive. That he had truly returned alive. That he hadn’t disappeared, hadn’t died, but was truly breathing in front of him.

“Taejung, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”

“…….”

“I’m truly sorry….”

The hand stroking his foot was still warm and soft. Even the countless scars embedded in his hand were proof of life. That you are alive and breathing, that simple fact, that most important fact, I am only now realizing.

And only then did Kang Taejung realize what he truly needed to say. What he should have said to Ha Joyoon first, before holding him back, before getting angry, before lashing out. Taejung had to say those words now, even though he had taken such a long and roundabout way to get to them.

With a chest tight with regret, he took a deep breath and buried his face deeper. The familiar scent ached in his heart, unbearable. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, gathered at his chin, and fell to the ground.

“Yoon-ah.”

“…….”

“I’m so sorry.”

“…….”

“You must have hated me so much.”

With trembling hands, he cupped the emaciated cheeks of the person he barely recognized. The way he shook his head repeatedly, denying it, was lovely. But the feel of the soft cheek against his palm pierced Taejung’s heart with pain.

He recalled Ha Joyoon, looking at him with an oddly pale face on a humid, sweltering tropical night. The footsteps following him, the desperate calls of his name, the hand that tried to hold him back, the pleading heart until the very end, and himself who had inflicted an indelible scar on him.

“It was me who was terrible.”

Confessing his true feelings as if vomiting them up, Kang Taejung opened his heart. The incomplete heart, cowardly and weak, and therefore human.

“While you were gone, I became so terrible… I was ashamed to see you.”

New tears flowed down his distorted face. He regretted everything. He regretted all the choices and consequences, hurting him because he didn’t want to be hurt. He was ashamed of himself for having mentally killed someone who was still alive, for holding another person and whispering about a future with them.

His cruelty, which had hurt the one he loved most with foolish words and actions, was also terrible, and he felt so sorry and regretful for the time his lover had to endure, exposed and defenseless to his pain.

…He felt sorry and pained by the warm and kind heart of the one who couldn’t even utter a harsh word to him until the very end, despite being treated so cruelly.

He was tormented because there wasn’t a single thing he wasn’t sorry for. He regretted abandoning him, who had clung to him, not wanting to break up. Kang Taejung’s tightly closed eyes were painfully contorted with self-reproach.

Saying it was because of Seo Youngwoo’s lie was nothing but cowardly self-justification. It was just a trigger; his choice to lean on it, to pretend to be responsible and avoid a difficult problem to handle, was his own decision, not anyone else’s coercion. The cowardly and cruel actions he chose in the process were ultimately his choices as well.

The reason he didn’t even get angry when Seo Youngwoo revealed the truth was simple. He realized that Seo Youngwoo’s existence was just one of the many reasons he had chosen to run away from Ha Joyoon. He realized his own cruelty, how he could discard the comfort, ease, and pity he felt for Seo Youngwoo whenever he needed to.

The person you loved and clung to, me, was only this much. A son of a bitch wearing a good-guy mask. In the end, a son of a bitch who treated everyone like trash. His face, twisted with a surge of hot remorse, was a mess.

“I didn’t want to be found out, so I dismissed your return as a delusion and ignored you.”

“Taejung.”

“I couldn’t even say thank you for coming back. Like a fool… like trash….”

“…….”

“I regret it so much.”

“…….”

“…I regret it so much….”

At those words, the person who had been lying face down, silently weeping, quietly held his breath. Kang Taejung gently took hold of Ha Joyoon’s hands, which had been brushing the dirt off his feet. For the first time, he properly looked at the thin hands of his lover, who had endured the harsh time of being unconscious. The bony, emaciated fingers, pale skin, small scars, and calluses here and there—for the first time, he fully and completely took in all the marks of life. These were the hands of someone who had dedicated himself to things he didn’t know, with a face he didn’t know, and a heart he didn’t know.

“Why are you so thin….”

Exhaling deeply with all his heart, Kang Taejung gently pressed his forehead against his lover’s hands. The constant flow of tears soaked his cheeks and Ha Joyoon’s hands.

“Yoon-ah.”

“…Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“…….”

“Thank you for coming back.”

“…….”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you until the end….”

“…….”

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand your work…”

“…….”

“For my heart changing… truly….”

I’m sorry. Suppressing the words he couldn’t bring himself to utter, Kang Taejung buried his head. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He felt so sorry and pained by his own emotions, defeated by time.

“Sob….”

The body he held tightly was warm. Their shallow breaths painfully intersected and quietly melted into the air. Yes. The small, tear-soaked face slowly nodded. Kang Taejung slowly raised himself. Ha Joyoon’s eyes, though filled with tears, were clear, as if reflecting his entire heart.

“Yoon-ah.”

“…Y-yes.”

The neat curve of his eyes was slightly distorted with pain. Unable to bear the sight, Kang Taejung pulled him into his arms. The soft crown of his head touched the tip of his nose. Clenching his teeth at the familiar feeling, he tightened his arms around Ha Joyoon. This was the person he had loved since birth. If he reached out and whispered his love, as he had in the past, they would eventually return to being lovers, as they always had.

But too much had happened to go back to those days. His heart had also become too realistic and calculating to love purely. He could neither make unconditional sacrifices nor demand them of the other person.

Just as he had been thoroughly broken over the past five years, Ha Joyoon would also be broken if things continued this way. Or perhaps he was already slowly breaking down. He couldn’t make him constantly watch his every move, be sensitive to him, and suffer from guilt.

Even at this moment, he was thinking about how to keep him from leaving. He couldn’t fully love Ha Joyoon with this kind of heart. He couldn’t bear to see him with his wings clipped. Hadn’t the ending of their relationship, seasoned with resentment, sadness, and bitterness, been a painful lesson learned from the past?

Having already shown him his worst, he didn’t want to ruin the remaining time they had. And he knew what decision he had to make for both of them.

“As you said….”

But those last words, the words he had uttered so irresponsibly just a few months ago, wouldn’t come out easily now. He sensed that the moment he spoke them again, there would be no turning back.

Licking his dry lips, Kang Taejung closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe evenly. And he repeatedly thought about the words he had to say for the other person. Words that would probably hurt him for a long time, perhaps an immeasurable amount of time.

“Let’s break up….”

The words that had lingered on the tip of his tongue finally came out. The words he had forced out finally came out. Words laden with an incomparable weight of life compared to the first time he had spoken them.

Unable to bear the impact of his own words, Kang Taejung hugged Ha Joyoon even tighter and buried his face in the crown of his head. The trembling of the grief-stricken person was transmitted to him, causing him even more pain, but the strength in his embracing arms only grew stronger.

“Let’s break up… Yoon-ah….”

The breakup he proposed in late summer was clumsy, violent, and a complete mess. In that miserable fight where no one emerged victorious, everyone was a loser, everyone suffered and hurt. Nothing got better just because they poured out all the painful, resentful, and angry parts onto each other. There was no healing, no catharsis. It only brought more pain, more suffering, and more regret.

His foolish act of only revealing his own wounds and blaming the other for being more cruel and himself for hurting more, ultimately left both of them with lifelong scars. He didn’t want to repeat that regret. And he knew that this moment was his last chance.

Even amidst countless repeated mistakes and regrets, there was a feeling he shouldn’t miss. A breakup can come suddenly, like an accident, or naturally, like flowing water. But in any case, one shouldn’t forget that the person saying goodbye was once the most beloved person in the world. To not lose at least the minimum courtesy, the minimum consideration. So that even the beautiful memories and reminiscences wouldn’t fade. There was a way to break up, but he hadn’t known it, lost in his own emotions and pain.

“We’re breaking up.”

“…Okay.”

“For real.”

“Yeah….”

Answering slowly, Ha Joyoon gently bit his lip. The sight of the forced smile through tear-filled eyes was so painful that Kang Taejung eventually buried his face in Ha Joyoon’s shoulder, barely suppressing his overflowing emotions. The gentle curve of his eyes was soaked in pain. The tears that wet his cheeks and heart were like a ritual to send off the sick emotions. Kang Taejung swallowed his pain as he gently stroked Ha Joyoon’s trembling body, silently weeping in his arms. His straight back heaved with each ragged breath.

Secretly wiping his wet cheeks against the soft collar of his shirt, Kang Taejung imprinted every last bit of the air that enveloped him and Ha Joyoon into his memory. We’re breaking up. Okay. We’re really breaking up. Yeah. Their hushed whispers and even fainter replies were carried back and forth on the faintest of breezes, like a murmur.

“…Yoon-ah.”

Only after a long time did Taejung finally pull away and look at him. Swallowing his agonizing emotions, he tightened his grip on Ha Joyoon’s shoulders. A youthful face, as if time had reversed, came into view.

Despite the occasional misunderstandings due to his indifferent attitude and cool demeanor, he knew that Ha Joyoon was a person with a warmer heart than anyone else. He was happy and glad that he was the one who knew his true self. Rather than revealing that side to others and giving him wings, he wanted to know it alone, cherish it alone, and possess it alone. His greed for him was that endless.

Recalling his selfish past, which endlessly surfaced, bit by bit, Kang Taejung embraced him. After a while, a heavy whisper sank lower and lower.

“Don’t get hurt.”

“…Okay.”

“Please take care of yourself….”

“…Y-yeah….”

An awkward smile seemed to form on his stiff face, but in the end, more tears streamed down his cheeks.

If time ever passes, and my mistakes and wrongdoings are truly forgiven, and even this pain becomes a memory, will I then truly be able to become your unwavering supporter, when you have no true friends…?

A blue wave surged from the depths of his heart. Transparent droplets, like tiny jewel fragments, sprinkled over the images of the most beautiful, the most brilliant moments of his life. Someone’s thin hand gently wrapped around the back of the quietly trembling person. The trembling of the slender fingers patting his back quietly reached his skin, muscles, and the deeply hidden heart.

Just as the beginning of love was unclear, so was its end. An involuntary chuckle escaped him. He was his lover, but also his friend and family. Their relationship couldn’t be severed so easily and simply, as if cutting with a knife. He had tried to forcibly ignore and sever such a relationship. That arrogant and foolish decision of his would probably gnaw at his heart and torment him for a very long time. All his foolish attempts to hold onto someone he couldn’t hold, to confine him within himself and hide his wings, flashed by like an old black-and-white film.

In the end, I couldn’t understand you. I couldn’t agree with your choices.

However….

Be well, don’t get hurt, I’m sorry. Painful whispers, unable to be erased, were exchanged, but there was no longer the pain of inflicting fatal wounds on each other, damaging memories, and plummeting self-esteem to rock bottom. The time they faced was the first time they wished each other happiness, empathized with each other’s pain, and acknowledged the mistakes of the past.

❄

“I understand. I’ll send you the relevant information via email. It seems they’ve caught on, so it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. I hear they’re holding a press conference next week.”

The loud vibrating ringtone made the smooth face frown involuntarily. The man, twitching one eye slightly, then swiped the screen of the vibrating phone horizontally with a careless gesture, silencing the ringtone. With that simple action, the screen went dark as if nothing had happened.

“We plan to contact Min Woo-taek’s faction before that. There are a few people who hold a grudge against Min Woo-taek after last year’s development project fell through.”

Tap. Tap.

Shin Kwonjoo tapped the table with the end of his fountain pen, as was his habit. Tap. Tap. It was a rhythm resembling his breathing, his heartbeat. With the receiver loosely held against his shoulder, Shin Kwonjoo picked up his phone, which he had pushed aside. There was no hesitation as he skillfully unlocked the screen and opened the message window.

“No, for now, our reporter is working on it. The reason I’m telling you, Sunbae, in advance is to ask you to break a story that will divert JM’s attention beforehand. It would be too obvious if it came from our side.”

Most of the messages filling the screen were related to the recent series of events. They had poured in relentlessly for several days, but he hadn’t left a single one unchecked. However, his rapidly moving fingertips lost all momentum when they reached the message he was looking for. His sharp gaze stopped, fixated on one spot.

「I’ve arrived. Please call me when you’re done with work.」

“…….”

His eyes narrowed as he read the message, which had been received almost half a month ago. The anguish he had forcibly buried within seemed to be throbbing, as if about to burst out at any moment. His slowly moving fingertips searched for earlier messages.

「Sunbae-nim, hello. This is Ha Joyoon. I don’t know if you remember me, but….」

「Sunbae-nim, I’ve arrived.」

「My coverage ended late, so I think I’ll be a bit late today.」

「I’ll go straight to the officetel.」

「Sunbae-nim, these are the photos I took today. I’m sending them to you.」

「Sunbae-nim, I’m out in the suburbs and I took some pictures of a reed field.」

They were messages that resembled the person, stiff and awkward like a robot. An involuntary dry laugh escaped him.

“…….”

The face of the person who hadn’t contacted him for days was painted on the screen like a phantom. Thinking that things couldn’t get any worse, Shin Kwonjoo rubbed his stiff lips. A bitter sigh escaped him.

— …So, what happened with that? …Director Shin, are you listening?

At the urging of the person on the other end of the line, the man finally put down his phone.

“…I apologize. I had something to think about. That part doesn’t matter. For now, we’ve confirmed the British Virgin Islands connection. We’ve found a few suspicious companies established in ’95 and ’96, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

— Good, then we’ll proceed as you said.

“Thank you.”

The call that had kept him busy all morning finally ended. Letting out a long sigh that couldn’t hide his complex feelings, Shin Kwonjoo picked up his phone. The pathetic task of deleting, searching, forgetting, and retrieving. This inefficient and foolish series of repetitive actions was a new, nasty habit he had developed after his last meeting with Ha Joyoon.

Creak.

Unable to bear the feeling of isolation, Shin Kwonjoo finally stood up. He knew it wasn’t good timing. That reaching out might make him run away. Confessing his feelings had been impulsive. It was a botched job born of impatience and confusion. His resolve to take his time and approach him slowly had vanished without a trace the moment he saw the look in his eyes that suggested he was trying to end their relationship.

“…….”

He had acknowledged his feelings, but the pain remained. Regret, no matter how swift, was merely an emotional act of foolishly clinging to something that was already too late. The beginning had been a mess, and it was his mistake to have cut off any possibility of growth throughout their relationship. However, reflecting on the past wouldn’t affect the emotional changes that had already occurred. In that case, it was right to take action in the present.

As if trying to erase the traces of his anguish, Shin Kwonjoo walked towards his desk with somewhat hurried steps. He grabbed his coat roughly, picked up his phone, and hurried out of his office. He had no intention of being consumed by regret alone in the silent space.

Slam!

Only the cold sound of the door echoed loudly in the empty space.

The streets were still bleak and cold from the aftermath of several days of heavy snowfall. Patches of ice, formed by temperatures dropping below freezing, were scattered everywhere.

Hah… A faint, raspy breath formed a white puff of air. Though the road was far away, the angry blare of a car horn echoed deeply, like an auditory hallucination. Even turning his head towards the sound, he couldn’t find a single headlight.

Repeatedly exhaling frosty breaths, Joyoon pressed his completely frozen nose. His body wouldn’t move as he wished, as if his toes were frozen too.

Should I have called?

After days of deliberation, once he decided he needed to see him, it didn’t take long to act. He realized he had left his phone at home only after getting out of the taxi. The lack of response from the intercom at the building entrance suggested he wasn’t home from work yet. Thinking it wasn’t right to enter someone’s home and wait without permission, Joyoon decided to wait for him outside.

Leaning against a marble pillar radiating coldness, Ha Joyoon quietly listened to the surrounding sounds. All he could hear were his own faint, intermittent breaths and the subtle ticking of a clock in the midnight silence.

‘I missed you.’

Suddenly, the confession, or rather, not-quite-confession that had weighed heavily on his heart, surfaced in his consciousness. His downcast eyelashes trembled slightly. His innocent, kind eyes crinkled in pain. Though it was a short phrase, the other person’s feelings contained within were beyond anyone’s easy comprehension.

He knew that expressing feelings for someone required a lot of courage and an equal amount of anguish and contemplation. One had to be sincere with someone who approached them sincerely. That was the single truth he learned after experiencing numerous failures in superficial relationships.

It was well past midnight when he sensed a presence other than the wind and his own breathing. At the sound of footsteps approaching the entrance, Ha Joyoon raised his head, which he had kept lowered for hours, staring at the ground. A tall man was walking towards him from the dark, distant end of the street. His footsteps, as always, were resolute and strong.

“…….”

“…….”

The moment the two people, who had lived different lives, intersected felt like a miracle. Every breath released a puff of white air. He seemed to have braved the cold wind too; his well-defined face was stiffly cold, enough to make one shiver just looking at him.

“Why are you waiting outside like a fool? You should have called if you were here.”

“I left my phone at home.”

Under the flickering entrance light, Ha Joyoon simply stared blankly at him, unable to even think of approaching. The confusion was mutual. Upon discovering him standing in front of the building, Shin Kwonjoo stopped in his tracks, standing frozen, only his cold breath escaping slowly.

“Let’s go inside.”

After a long silence, a low, rough voice finally emerged from his lips. His brow furrowed slightly, distorting his eyebrows. Joyoon’s slightest movements seemed to stain the impassive man’s face with pain.

“No, Sunbae-nim. I….”

“You can tell me never to see you again, or that this is the end, but let’s talk inside. Your face is a mess right now.”

“It’ll be quick. We can talk here.”

“Just come on up. You can do me this small favor, can’t you?”

Shin Kwonjoo, who had walked over to the entrance, took hold of Ha Joyoon’s wrist, who was still standing there, at a loss.

“I don’t know whether to call this good timing or bad….”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been waiting in front of your house.”

“Ah….”

His faint resistance faded as he saw Shin Kwonjoo’s profile as he silently entered the passcode. The man’s words, that he had been waiting, weighed heavily on him.

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I thought you were avoiding me.”

“…….”

The glass door opened. The palm gripping his wrist was abnormally hot. He couldn’t tell if it was a real sensation or phantom pain, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“The funny thing is…”

The arrival of the elevator cut him off. Shin Kwonjoo led Joyoon into the small space. He pressed the floor button familiarly, and until the doors closed, no one else entered the elevator.

“Now I know what you’re going to say just by looking at your face.”

Shin Kwonjoo’s eyes were fixed on the rapidly ascending numbers. But at some point, his expression, which had been straight as a ruler, wavered greatly.

“And no matter what you say, I don’t like seeing you standing out in the cold.”

Saying things he wouldn’t have imagined saying in the past, Shin Kwonjoo covered the corners of his lips, which curved in a bitter smile. Joyoon’s gaze silently followed the trajectory of his emotions, as if determined not to miss a single reaction.

[15th floor.]

The doors opened. The pressure that had been constricting his whole body was instantly released. Following the hand that led him once more, Joyoon trudged down the dark hallway. One step, two steps, the closer they got to the familiar place, the faster one person walked, and the slower the other became.

Only when they reached his apartment number did Shin Kwonjoo stop completely. He stood there, half-turning to face Ha Joyoon, who was standing a few steps away.

“What are you doing?”

He finally lost his composure at the sight of him just standing there, watching him without approaching. It was a premonition he had felt ever since he spotted Joyoon waiting for him, pale-faced, in front of the building.

“Sunbae-nim.”

A desolate voice carried on the wind, filling every corner of the hallway. At the sorrowful call that pierced his heart, Shin Kwonjoo silently bit his lip hard.

“Let’s talk inside.”

“No.”

Joyoon shook his head quietly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes, fixed on the closed door, shimmered with a mixture of emotions. The countless events that had unfolded within that space felt both vivid as yesterday and distant as years ago.

“What’s wrong?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Shin Kwonjoo turned fully and strode towards Joyoon in a single breath. Their shallow breaths collided and echoed loudly in the confined space.

“It won’t take long.”

“I told you I’d listen to whatever you have to say. Just come inside.”

An anxious voice urged him. But the only response was a shake of the head in refusal.

After staring longingly at the front door for a while, Ha Joyoon finally composed himself and continued.

“Sunbae-nim.”

If he opened the door, warm air would greet them. The air inside, faintly carrying the man’s scent, would bring him comfort, and perhaps the man with the impassive face would brew coffee with his usual impressive skill. Then the whole house would be filled with the aroma of coffee. While the coffee brewed under his experienced hands, he might sit on the sun-dried bedding, or perhaps on the comfortable buffalo leather sofa, waiting for him.

Watching the man’s back as he prepared something for him, during that time of waiting, he might once again become intoxicated by the emotions before him, rationalizing the impending crisis and unresolved problems, and leaning on his steadfast heart.

But such escapism wouldn’t solve anything. He couldn’t possibly make a new start with a heart that couldn’t fully embrace someone. A searing pain ripped through him. The man looking at him with wavering eyes had never looked as pained as he did today, and that hurt him too much.

“I broke up with Taejung.”

“…What?”

Shin Kwonjoo’s mouth, which had been about to say something, closed. He understood the meaning of Ha Joyoon’s words, “I broke up.” He was the one who hadn’t properly accepted the one-sided breakup and had dragged it on for a long time.

The person who felt an increasing emptiness in his heart the more they were intimate was saying that he had completely broken up with the person he was still attached to. It was something to be happy about, but for some reason, Shin Kwonjoo didn’t feel like smiling at all.

“I thought letting him go completely was the best thing for Taejung.”

“…….”

“I was so caught up in my own love that I didn’t realize how broken Taejung had become.”

Twenty-six-year-old Ha Joyoon didn’t grasp the lost time. He couldn’t accept how much things had changed during that time and wanted people to focus on his past and wait for him. He didn’t understand that feelings could fade. He didn’t know that people, and love, could change. He didn’t know that a sense of responsibility towards each other was paramount to holding onto changing emotions and relationships.

“Sunbae-nim, I…”

Transparent tears fell onto his cheek, small enough to be covered by a single hand. Shin Kwonjoo’s expression darkened further as he watched him.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone else because of me.”

The man’s head tilted to one side. Shadows fell on his features under the dim lighting, revealing his emotions in greater depth.

“So.”

“…….”

“What do you want to say?”

His voice was stiff, but it couldn’t hide the quiet trembling and tension within. At some point, tracing a faint possibility that had silently seeped into him with wistful eyes, Ha Joyoon parted his trembling lips.

“…I don’t think I can go with you.”

His dark pupils darkened further. He understood the underlying meaning of the words, “I can’t go with you.” The words that signaled the end of their relationship slowly, but clearly, spread between them. Although his face remained expressionless, unconcealed pain slowly covered Shin Kwonjoo’s face like paint. The motion-sensor hallway lights flickered on and off. A desperation that had grown too large to swallow hit his throat.

“I need a little more…”

“Even if I say I love you?”

The unexpected confession pressed down on his heart. Ha Joyoon stared at him in a daze, forgetting even to blink. The man’s face, devoid of all expression, yet simultaneously expressing his emotions with his whole being, was sharply etched in his vision. His gently curved eyes trembled violently in the massive surge of emotion that pressed against his lungs. Ah. A moan like a scream tore through his chest. A ragged breath escaped his parted lips.

Love.

The painful, agonizing emotion expressed in a single word swirled like a storm. A throbbing headache accompanied his gasping breaths. Love, he said love. Shin Kwonjoo was telling him that among the nameless emotions that existed between them, there was also love.

“…If I…”

Even if I say I love you.

His voice, begging for affection, trembled pathetically. Sinking lower and lower, it cracked into a thousand pieces. The man, his expression hidden as he stood against the light, his eyes glistening. Shin Kwonjoo, having drawn closer, took hold of the person who might disappear from his side at any moment. The long, firm fingers that touched him were filled with their owner’s anxiety.

Shin Kwonjoo raised a trembling hand and cupped Joyoon’s thin cheek. A faint but well-defined face, small enough to fit entirely within his hand.

Not a glamorous face, but one that kept drawing his eyes. The unique kindness and languidness in those pretty eyes, nose, and mouth, the ennui like a midday afternoon, would sparkle like a jewel when you ran around rough sites taking pictures. You were the first person I saw shine like that. But I was too used to hiding my true feelings behind a mask my whole life, I couldn’t say a word to you.

Swallowing the painful feelings he couldn’t express, Shin Kwonjoo squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Ha Joyoon’s face, his eyes wide open, came into view. The hazel eyes that had brought spring to his bleak winter heart were now looking at him with sadness.

“Sunbae-nim, I…”

A slightly cooler hand covered the back of the hand cupping his cheek. And soon, it gently took hold of and removed Shin Kwonjoo’s hand. The raw, unfiltered emotion emanating from the man felt particularly sharp and painful. The other person seemed unfamiliar with this side of him, openly displaying the wounds he had inflicted.

“I’m terrified of hurting and losing someone I love because of my shortcomings.”

The precariously hanging emotion plummeted to the ground. The traces of the heavily falling heart carried the weight of the love he had to let go of, despite not wanting to.

“But I also know that I can’t just lean on someone because I’m scared. I know how much that kind of feeling can sicken another person.”

A deep, low breath escaped between someone’s lips. His body, completely frozen, couldn’t even move a finger.

“Since I returned to Korea… I haven’t been sane for a single day.”

“…….”

“Every day I felt like I was going crazy, like I wanted to die. I couldn’t love myself. I lived blaming myself more than anyone else. The only things that kept me going were the things Sunbae-nim said. You were the only one who said those things to me.”

The past, marked by a changed reality and the immeasurable pain of loss, flashed by like faded film. In that dark tunnel of self-hatred, self-blame, and worthlessness, where his self-esteem endlessly plummeted.

“Sunbae-nim said you regretted it.”

The hand you extended to me.

“But for me back then, it was everything.”

It truly was salvation.

“Thank you.”

Ha Joyoon forced down the hot breath burning his throat and bowed deeply to him. The corners of his downcast eyes flushed red. Thank you. The man, who had been listening silently, finally spoke.

“…That’s not the kind of thanks I want to hear.”

“…….”

“Do my feelings not matter in your decision?”

“That’s not it.”

“If that’s not it, then I…”

Struggling to suppress the emotions rising to the surface, Shin Kwonjoo forced his voice lower. The maddening feelings for the person pushing him away, the urgency, the impatience, the desperation. His usually ironclad rationality was crumbling under the onslaught of unfamiliar sensations.

He didn’t know what to say to this person who, while openly displaying his emptiness and anxiety, was determined to bear all those feelings alone. Shin Kwonjoo’s grip on his shoulders tightened.

“I know my approach was rash and disrespectful. I regret approaching you that way. I also understand what you’re worried about.”

“…….”

“But there could be a chance to start over differently. We can try together. Why do you make everything so difficult?”

A desolate voice echoed through the hallway. Like a shattered sheet of thin ice, the path scorched by flames left only white ashes, rapidly cooling. Sunbae-nim. A pain-filled breath caught in his throat. It was a different kind of pain from the breakup with Taejung, which had torn him apart with sharp teeth and shattered his heart.

Ha Joyoon didn’t know what to call these feelings, this breathlessness born of desperation and a tightness in his chest, this mixture of affection and pain. He just hoped that his feelings would be conveyed, even a little, that his inadequate words would somehow reach the other person.

“If I ever love someone again… when Taejung’s shadow is gone from my heart… and when I can fully take responsibility for another person… then I want to start again.”

“…….”

“I don’t think that time is now.”

He doesn’t say that he unknowingly let a part of his heart go, that at some point, he found comfort and affection in his words. He doesn’t say that he wanted to lean on and depend on him. Because he knows those words would become a formless spark of hope, giving him false hope and forcing him into an indefinite wait.

He had learned the hard way how empty promises could break a person. He wanted to live that way, to avoid making the same mistake again, so that the wounds he inflicted on Kang Taejung and his loss wouldn’t be in vain.

“…Even if I say I don’t mind?”

“…….”

“Even if I say I’ll accept whoever is in your heart, is your decision still the same?”

Until the very, very end, a question clinging to a sliver of hope fell. Those uncharacteristic words meant that he was willing to break down his walls and take a step closer. But the weight of the feelings preventing him from reciprocating that step was immeasurable. Enduring the pain that pressed down on his heart, Ha Joyoon barely managed to answer.

“…Yes.”

Silence fell.

A vast stillness swallowed even the faintest breaths. Shin Kwonjoo’s eyes wavered greatly at the unfamiliar sensation of being overwhelmed by a tide of emotions he couldn’t handle.

“Why are you so eloquent today?”

As if he had nothing left to hide, the unconcealed feelings for him were thickly painted on his face under the light, like layers of oil paint on a canvas. Shin Kwonjoo clenched his teeth to suppress a rising groan. The clear face staring back at him was telling him it was no use. Despair and helplessness washed over him at the bleak situation, devoid of even a glimmer of possibility.

“And your teeth are sharp, too.”

“Sunbae-nim…”

“Just understand, even if I’m rambling. I’m not thinking straight right now.”

At the jokingly laced words, Ha Joyoon lowered his head with a faint curve of his eyes. Sadness welled up along his rounded forehead. He felt like tears would spill over if he let his guard down even slightly. His heart felt flooded with hot tears, threatening to reveal all his shameless inner thoughts. To expose his selfish, flawed inner self.

“I understand what you mean.”

“…….”

“I still thought you had some feelings for me. I believed you’d follow if I reached out and pulled you in, but in the end, it was my arrogance until the very last moment.”

The man, having wiped his face with his hand, let out a long held breath. Ha Joyoon, watching him, also contorted his face in pain. Conflicting, unresolved emotions surged painfully. The last vestiges of his conscience prevented him from saying that Shin Kwonjoo’s assumption wasn’t wrong. He bit his lip harder, and his tightly clenched hands trembled as if convulsing. He even felt a fleeting illusion that he had exhausted all the feelings he could offer anyone other than himself in the past few days.

“As you thought, I’ve never invested my time in an uncertain future. That’s why I can’t properly comfort your anxieties right now, and I can’t give you any assurances or promises. It’s absurd to talk carelessly about a future I can’t even predict.”

“Sunbae-nim.”

“So it’s right to let you go here. Even if it means putting aside feelings of love and such.”

The man laughed, his face contorted. The corners of his lips curved, but there wasn’t a trace of mirth. His face was a mess as he looked into Ha Joyoon’s expressionless eyes. Shin Kwonjoo also offered a bleak smile, his eyes creased. His ironclad emotions were thoroughly crumbling. The end of those fragmented, falling emotions was ultimately self-deprecation.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sunbae-nim, that’s not what I meant…”

At the pleading tone, Shin Kwonjoo let out a lower laugh. Contrary to the content, his voice was devoid of strength. Haha. It was a laugh resembling despair.

“Saying it’s the end ultimately means we won’t see each other again. How beautiful can it be, even if sugarcoated?”

“…….”

“I don’t know about you, but at least that’s what the end means to me. We can’t see each other again, and we won’t meet unless it’s by chance.”

A roaring beast flashed fierce, violent eyes. But the wounds and blood-soaked emotions within ironically revealed that he, too, was a human with a passionately beating heart. Avoiding the raw emotions directed at him, Ha Joyoon finally turned his head away. At that, Shin Kwonjoo took another step closer and, unable to hold back any longer, cupped the other man’s face in his hands. His tightly clenched jaw twitched.

“Are you really sure you won’t regret this?”

The cold, sharp gaze had been slowly burning him with an unnamable longing for some time now. By the time he realized it, his body had been consumed by the flames, leaving not a single piece of flesh behind. The hand caressing his sunken cheek was firm yet desperate.

“Tell me. Are you really sure you won’t regret this? Completely ending things with me here?”

“Sunbae-nim, please….”

“This is the last time. Tell me properly. I’m saying this because I think I’ll really regret it if I stop here.”

“…….”

“I want to hear your true feelings.”

A shadow fell over his face. A sharp nose grazed his skin intermittently. The movement of his long, pale fingers, tracing the lines of his face from the corner of his eyes to his cheeks and chin, gradually slowed.

Tell me. A gloomy but desperate whisper grazed his earlobe painfully. Please. At the trace of pleading in his touch, his closed eyelashes became damp. His heart pounded with fear. If any more time passed, the selfish, nasty feelings buried deep within his unconscious would be exposed. He bit his lip hard. The soft skin, caught between his teeth, flushed red.

“I’ll regret it a lot…”

A choked voice rang out pathetically. The pain squeezed from his heart flowed out with it. Though his face was dry, not a single tear falling, his heart was clearly weeping.

“But I don’t think this will work.”

His eyes wavered greatly from the strain. As if commending his effort not to cry, the tears that had welled up in his eyes miraculously didn’t spill onto his cheeks.

Breaking up was the greatest consideration he could offer. He shouldn’t tempt him with even the slightest possibility, driven by selfish desires, and cause him pain. He couldn’t burden him with his suffering, his difficulties, the anguish and weight of his life. The mistake he made once was already enough.

“…I don’t think this will work…”

The final rejection, completely drained of strength, finally tumbled out. His weakened voice apologized with desperate sincerity. I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry. Thud. Simultaneously, the man’s hands, which had been cupping his cheeks, fell as if plummeting.

His eyes, staring straight ahead, were stained with dark despair. You. Unspoken words lingered around Shin Kwonjoo’s lips. A long, immeasurable silence followed. Rough, cold breaths enveloped the hallway. The temperature of his heart dropped sharply along with the cold air.

“I see. So that’s how it is.”

A self-deprecating whisper spread heavily through the bleak lobby.

“Sunbae-nim…”

The words he was about to speak were swallowed back down his throat as the man briefly raised his hand.

“…I understand.”

Shin Kwonjoo rubbed his tired face carelessly. The gloomy atmosphere seemed to dissipate momentarily, but only briefly. After staring at the floor with an expressionless gaze for a long time, he heavily opened his mouth.

“Now that you’ve said your piece, you should go.”

As soon as the cold words fell, Shin Kwonjoo shook his head.

“No… that’s not what I…”

He rubbed his eyes repeatedly with his palms as if at a loss. A short curse slipped out. Mostly self-directed.

“I’m sorry.”

A hot breath followed the brief apology. The usually cold man’s face had long been a distorted mess.

“I think I’ll go crazy if I keep looking at you.”

Painful self-deprecation echoed through the hallway. Ha Joyoon slowly raised his head. The eyes that had burned away all darkness were still directed downwards. His irises, resembling the cold night, contained black flames, too dark to even hold color. He remembered the temperature of the man’s heart, cold yet burning him red hot. But.

“Be careful. I don’t think I can walk you back today.”

A north wind blew. Without a chance to reply, Shin Kwonjoo turned and strode towards the entrance. The sound of his heels echoing through the lobby was brief; soon, the door opened with a cold electronic beep, and his retreating figure disappeared within.

A distant gaze followed the traces of the man. The final question, “Are you really sure you won’t regret this?” echoed endlessly in his ears.

Unbearable pain gripped his head and heart at the same time. Pressing his trembling hands together, Ha Joyoon reiterated his choice. This current pain, too, would one day become the foundation of his life, forming new relationships and fostering new emotions. For that moment, it was right for him to take a step back from both of their lives.

But the silence and loneliness that gripped him at this moment were also very real emotions. The feelings he had held back finally surfaced.

“…….”

Ha Joyoon quietly wiped his tear-soaked cheeks. In the deserted hallway, the sound of his muffled sobs faded completely only after a long time.

Click.

The sound of the closing door was chilling. The motion-sensor lights in the shoe closet brightened. Orange-tinged yellow light poured down on him. His face, having poured out all his hidden emotions, was filled with exhaustion.

A deep breath escaped his lips. In the silent space where even his breath was barely audible, the ticking of the clock sounded loud. His gaze, which had been lowered as he leaned against the wall, slowly shifted towards one side of the living room.

A painting someone had loved greeted him upon his defeated return. The dark blue sea in the painting undulated, forming white crests. The black sea was savage, as if it would swallow everything whole. Perhaps the person who loved this painting had also been consumed by that sea.

‘…I don’t think I can go with you.’

A hollow voice, as if about to drift away somewhere, echoed in his ears. His grip on the wall tightened. His emotions, unable to detour and running straight ahead, had long been scarred. The spreading ache in his heart was an unfamiliar sensation.

Exhausted.

Shin Kwonjoo realized he was completely spent. His thoughts raced. All this exhaustion, frustration, regret, and hopelessness were emotions that did him no good. If they were unnecessary, it was right to forget them. There was no need to worry, no reason to agonize.

His blurred pupils sharpened, and his lips tightened into a firm line. He turned around once more. Still fully dressed in his coat and shoes. He had said let’s end it. He just had to accept it. Just a few months, it wasn’t a life-or-death feeling. He would be leaving Korea anyway, and it was a feeling that would soon dissipate like smoke once they were apart.

His shoes touched the floor. Each step was heavy. Pale eyes had stared straight at him. No, he had said, let’s break up. But he couldn’t remember the expression on his face when he said those words. His grip on the doorknob tightened. Contrary to the rational calculations running through his head, every sense in his body was focused on one thing.

The theoretical notion that feelings are proportional to time couldn’t convince his heart. At this moment, it wasn’t his head but his heart that moved his body. He moved with hurried steps, following the direction of his beating heart. And soon, the cold metal door opened.

Bang!

A harsh, explosive sound reverberated through the hallway.

“…….”

The surroundings were dark and silent. There was no trace of anyone having been there, as if it were all a lie. An unfamiliar, frightening feeling washed over him. The man’s face, looking at the empty hallway, began to crumble rapidly with despair.