YHP 13

Pale shadows rippled over his skin, reflecting off the water’s surface. Staring into space, Ho-jin raised his hand above the water with his fist tightly clenched.

He wanted to strike the water but ultimately couldn’t bring himself to do it. Although it seemed like the situation couldn’t get any worse, he at least wanted to avoid the worst-case scenario of venting his aimless anger in the wrong place.

Gritting his teeth, he loosened his grip. His still unsteady breathing lingered in the space around him.

He inhaled deeply, as if taking a deep breath. His chest expanded fully before deflating again. After repeating these deep breaths several times, his heart rate calmed down and his mind became clearer.

He decided there was nothing more to gain in his current condition. First of all, he felt like he had to wash his body, sort out his emotions, and then start training again.

He picked up the clothes he had thrown in front of the lane and headed to the shower room. It was as empty as the swimming pool. When he turned on the nearest shower, cold water began to flow over the dry tiles.

The stream of water, shaped like a snake’s head, wound its way into a small groove and was soon sucked into the drain. Ho-jin watched the water spread across the floor and soon closed his eyes. The weight of the water droplets falling on his shoulders felt unusually heavy.

“Hah…”

Today’s training didn’t go as planned either. No, it had gone worse than yesterday, and even worse than the week before. It was undeniable—he was regressing. Maybe even the thought that he had done his best was just a thought.

Why was this happening? What could be the problem? No matter how much he pondered, he couldn’t find a clear answer. In the end, he couldn’t even last an hour in the water before dragging himself out. He wasn’t sure if a single shower would help him reset, but right now, he had no better option.

He had spent most of his life in the water. Handing it came more naturally than eating or breathing.

In the water, he could do anything as long as he was focused. But now, it wasn’t like that anymore. He had told everyone he was fine, hiding himself away as much as he could. It had all been a lie. He wasn’t fine at all.

Swimming had always been instinctive for him, almost entirely relegated to his subconscious. Occasionally, technical aspects would rise to the level of consciousness, but for Ho-jin, swimming itself had long become an exercise not done with deliberate thought.

However, things changed after the injury. As soon as he entered the water, the theoretical process of swimming kept embedding itself in his consciousness.

Raising his arms to cut through the water, stretching his legs to move forward, using only the necessary muscles to minimize resistance in the water, and inhaling the right amount of air at the right timing—when he consciously thought about each of these processes, his performance would inevitably fall apart. So much so that he would have to stop before even reaching half of the lane, noticing his obvious underperformance.

If his head was brokem he would have to rely on his body to compensate. That was the conclusion Ho-jin came to after six months of rehabilitation and the harsh reality of the slump that followed.

Of course, it wasn’t easy. Ho-jin gritted his teeth and focused solely on training, but he still couldn’t confidently say that it was at a level where he could proudly present it as complete. He tried his best to clear his mind, but it was in vain. Just like how telling someone not to think about a white elephant only made them think about white elephants, the more he tried not to think about the movements, those thoughts stubbornly clung to him even more.

It was something he loved and felt confident about. He had always lived fully in the present, never planning or thinking about the future. As a result, people all around him, with great anticipation, began showering him with praise after praise.

He thought he was doing well. However, without even noticing, the tower that had slowly built up beneath his feet had grown excessively high.

The hiatus had been too long. In situations where he had to show something, everything cruelly remained at a standstill. Even at this moment, countless words were being thrown at him from the outside. There would be a limit to how much the company could cover for him. He might not be able to continue his career as an athlete at this rate. Although he might somehow get through the current spring season, everything would eventually be revealed as early summer approached.

He had tried hard all his life not to get swept away.

But now, sometimes just standing still was overwhelming. A single misstep, and he feared he would fall all the way down from that dizzying height and crack his head open.

“Get it together.”

Ho-jin raised his hand and slapped his cheeks.

In the end, time passed, and as time passed, the given days also came to an end. Once the day was over, there would be plenty of time for reflection. Until then, he needed to keep his mind focused without wavering.

He roughly dried off with a towel and then tucked the clothes he had hung at the shower room entrance under his arm after rolling them up. He headed back to the pool. Gripping his left elbow with his right hand, he tugged and stretched it as he walked up to the lane. As he stood there, however, he saw someone standing when no one was supposed to be there.

Although it wasn’t an official reservation, this time had been arranged through the school’s consideration for Ho-jin to use the pool alone twice a week. He had heard that they didn’t accept regular users during this time, so he wondered what was going on.

Even from a distance, the silhouette somehow seemed familiar. Staring at the person with narrowed eyes, Ho-jin suddenly let out a gasp without realizing it.

“Oh…”

He loosened his tightly clenched arm, slipped it back into his track jacket, and immediately turned to walk toward him.

The closer he got, the more certain he became. There could only be one person this beautiful in this school—no, in this world.

The person standing there, reflecting the shimmering water shadows, was undoubtedly Jeong-in. Judging by his attire, it didn’t seem like he had come to swim. Then why was he here? Could it be—though it seemed absurd—that he came to see me?

“Jeong-in…”

Just as Ho-jin was about to call out his name in delight, Jeong-in, who had been staring blankly downward, suddenly tilted toward the water.

The thought that it looked slightly dangerous occurred to Ho-jin almost simultaneously. Jeong-in collapsed into the water, as if being pulled in, without the slightest resistance, just like when he had lost consciousness in Ho-jin’s arms on that rainy day.

“Jeong-in ssi!”

Splash! The sound of splashing echoed loudly. And before the echo could even fade, Ho-jin dove into the water after Jeong-in.

He minimized his breathing and moved his waist flexibly to increase speed. He could see Jeong-in sinking toward the bottom in the dance. With his gaze fixed solely on that spot, he instinctively stretched out his arm. After briefly surfacing to take in a perfect gulp of air, he plunged back down, his taut muscles cutting through the water as he closed the distance just as he had trained his body to do. Soon, he could see the tips of Jeong-in’s limp fingers right before him.

It was only a fleeting moment, but as Ho-jin reached out to grab Jeong-in’s hand, he suddenly stopped.

It was because Jeong-in’s face with gently closed eyes looked so peaceful.

He looked like a mermaid fleeing into the water to escape relentless gravity. Beneath the softly rippling surface, he seemed utterly free at last, as if hoping to rest there for a long time.

But he couldn’t leave him like that.

Because this was a place that could sometimes be bitingly cold and lonely.

Ho-jin had been staring at him in a daze, but he stretched out his arm once more. He wrapped his arms around Jeong-in’s waist as he sank toward the lowest point. Fortunately, the surface wasn’t far. With the familiar pressure of the water pushing against his body, he kicked off the ground, holding Jeong-in tightly.

“Hah…”

The blockage in his ears finally cleared. Ho-jin roughly wiped his face with one hand and checked on Jeong-in, who was quietly nestled in his arms. Slowly, Jeong-in opened his eyelids.

They were so close that even the smallest movement would bring their lips together. His water-drenched lashes sparkled, holding droplets of light. Large water droplets rolled down his clean face. Ho-jin blankly watched as they left shimmering trails before finally seeping into his red lips.

For a moment, the world stopped, and all senses became distant. Everything except Jeong-in’s existence blurred into whiteness.

It felt as though something immense had struck him with overwhelming force, leaving his entire soul throbbing in numbing pain.

***

The light from a dizzying height shattered on the water’s surface.

Jeong-in slowly closed his eyes as he looked down at the deep blue undulating water. Then, as if collapsing, he plunged into the water.

A thunderous noise followed his entry. As he let his arms fall limply, his breath was instantly cut off and his ears became muffled. Yet, it was always only the surface that created sound as it rippled, and sure enough, the depths were filled with a profound silence.

Bit by bit, slowly and steadily, his body sank deeper and deeper. The descent he had already prepared for wasn’t frightening at all.

He knew exactly how this impulse would end. It was something he had repeated countless times, to the point of nauseating familiarity.

Though it might feel as though he would sink endlessly, eventually, his body would float back up. Whenever he started to think he might die from suffocation, he’d somehow manage to surface for air, regardless of his will.

Soaked like a drowned rat, he’ll emerge from the pool like a defeated soldier, roughly dry his hair, change clothes, and then, as always, sleep peacefully and wake up to face another day without fail.

Although he clumsily imitated death, he would end up alive and breathing again. Carrying the cowardice of the moment when he couldn’t endure the last few seconds before his breath ran out.

He wished there were long seaweed down there. Or the bony arms of a vengeful ghost. Anything that could firmly grasp his ankles and keep him from ever going up again.

Because,

He couldn’t do it himself.

The moment he thought this, a small shadow fell across his face, and something brushed against his lower back. He opened his eyes reflexively. Where he expected to see nothing but the empty pool, Jeong-in instead caught sight of a familiar brand logo.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that what was firmly wrapped around his waist was someone’s arm, and that the solid presence in front of him was someone’s chest. But what reached him faster than that realization—

“Are you okay?”

—was the sound that shattered the heavy silence that had surrounded him all along.