ACJY C61
by soapaWhile Taeheun lay wrapped in blankets in the master bedroom, the man prepared an early breakfast. It wasn’t the usual soy sauce egg rice but a dish with beef. The smell of sizzling meat wafted into the bedroom.
Taeheun sniffled, imagining the man’s movements. With no fresh beef in the fridge, he must’ve taken some from the freezer to thaw. While it defrosted, he probably started the rice and chopped vegetables. Tsssss, the sound of water hitting a hot pan echoed loudly. Beef soup, maybe. Gulp, Taeheun swallowed.
The man hurried somewhere and returned, likely the laundry room. The washing machine’s spin cycle made the whole house rumble. Taeheun wanted to help hang the laundry but couldn’t move.
He cried and laughed alone. Mortified, then tender, he giggled recalling his predawn stumble in the ditch. He let himself ride the waves of shifting emotions—crying when sad, laughing when amused, cringing when embarrassed.
Yet, he couldn’t believe he was crying over heartbreak. Me, Lee Seonjae, no, Kim Taeheun, heartbroken? The old him would’ve laughed it off as a trivial hiccup, but now it felt like death.
As a kid, he’d smiled at his grandparents’ funeral, loving the attention. Kim Jiyoon, who grinned to be liked, was crying over heartbreak. Lee Seonjae, who shed no tears even before his beloved aunt’s corpse.
Did he pick the wrong name? He mused, half-joking, that he should’ve visited a fortune-teller before choosing. He couldn’t help but smirk.
But soon, resentment surged. He knew it was foolish, meaningless, yet his pride stung. A mere country farmer didn’t like him! Women, naturally, and even guys tried to get with Kim Taeheun, but he was rejected. No, not even rejected—that would’ve hurt less. The man gave up. Like he did with Yongjun, he gave up his body to Taeheun.
Haa. Damn it.
Am I that bad?
Through tear-blurred eyes, Taeheun looked at himself.
His face and body were more than fine, and his dick was big, so that wasn’t the issue. Was it his personality? Too frivolous, too talkative, or not sexy enough? Every thought crossed his mind. He dove into self-criticism, a first in his life.
The man’s footsteps passed through the living room to the porch. The metallic clank of a basin hitting the floor suggested he was hanging laundry in the yard. Thwack, thwack, he shook out the clothes vigorously. Soon, the porch creaked again as he returned inside.
The kid’s door opened.
“Dad, what’s that smell?”
Freshly awake, the kid asked in a groggy voice.
“Is today special or something?”
“No, it’s just… rainy.”
The man lied clumsily. The kid didn’t buy it.
“Come on, Dad. It’s special, right?”
“…”
“What is it? Not your birthday, not mine, not Mom’s memorial. What?”
“Go wash up.”
The man deflected. The kid, still pondering what day it was, belatedly answered, “Okay.”
Maybe the man made beef radish soup for important days. And one of those days happened to include Taeheun’s heartbreak.
The kid scampered about as usual, the floor thudding with each step. The man’s movements were soft, cautious, always out of sync.
“Uh, Mr. Taeheun, can you get up? Should I set the table in here?”
The man stood at the door, asking carefully, unnoticed until now.
“Let’s eat together.”
Taeheun’s throat was tight, his voice barely audible.
The man looked troubled, hesitated, then approached. With the towel around his neck, he wiped Taeheun’s tear-streaked face.
“I realized I’ve never been dumped before. You know, Mr. Gibeom, I’m kinda good-looking. Never been rejected.”
“Who said that?”
The man’s sudden question caught Taeheun off guard.
“What?”
“Who dumped you?”
“Come on, if the dumper says that, what does that make the dumpee?”
Taeheun grumbled.
“I didn’t dump you.”
The man’s voice was faint.
“I like you too, Mr. Taeheun. Not in that way, though.”
He spoke calmly, not even blushing.
Taeheun’s brain short-circuited. Unable to grasp the man’s sincerity, he just blinked. Noticing the man wasn’t blushing, he assumed it was a lie. What a way to comfort someone—making their heart race.
“In times like this, it’s best to leave me alone. Even a careless stone can kill a frog.”
Taeheun muttered. The man, apologetic, didn’t know what to do. Taeheun meant it, but seeing him guilty felt wrong too.
“Kidding.”
“Dad! The soup’s boiling! Should I turn off the stove?”
The kid shouted.
“No, I’ll handle it.”
“Okay.”
The kid’s footsteps dashed off.
“I said I was kidding.”
“I heard.”
He heard but didn’t accept it. Still looking guilty, the man glanced at Taeheun, then wiped his face broadly with his forearm, like a windshield wiper.
“You need to wash up.”
He glanced toward the living room, mindful of the kid who’d soon see Taeheun.
“Do I look that bad?”
“Not that bad… Your eyes and nose are a bit red.”
The man stared and chuckled.
“It’s pretty obvious, huh?”
“Go wash up.”
His gentle tone made Taeheun choke up. He bit his lip to hold back tears.
“Hurry and wash.”
“…Okay.”
With the man’s help, Taeheun rose, still wrapped in blankets.
Shuffling to the bathroom, he paused at the smell of beef radish soup.
“You made that soup for me, right?”
Taeheun asked.
“Yeah.”
“On purpose, for me?”
“Yeah.”
The man answered simply, almost indifferently.
Moments ago, Taeheun was hurt; now, he felt good. Someone made soup reserved for special days just for him. Even if it was for heartbreak, it warmed him. A smile spread across his tearful face.
“If you cry and then laugh…”
The man trailed off.
“If you’re gonna joke, finish it. Why’s Mr. Gibeom shy?”
“I’m not.”
“No? I’m not shy at all.”
When Taeheun teased, the man scratched his head and shuffled to the kitchen.
Got him.
On the man’s nape, Taeheun’s bite mark stood out. He didn’t want to mention it yet. Sulking, he hoped the kid or someone else would notice first and went into the bathroom.
In the mirror, his eyes and nose were beet red, like a drunkard’s.
“Still damn pretty, though.”
How could anyone reject this face?
Venting, Taeheun washed with cold water. The man must be blind or impotent, he cursed inwardly.
At the table, the kid was already seated, waiting. As Taeheun sat, the kid stared at him.
“Mister, were you crying?”
“Nah, caught a cold.”
“A cold? Why? You were fine yesterday.”
“I’ve got sleepwalking issues. Wandered outside at dawn.”
“Liar.”
“It’s true. See my feet? Got scratched walking barefoot.”
Taeheun showed his scraped feet under the table. The man glanced at him, slightly exasperated.
“Whoa, really?”
“Told you.”
“If you were sleepwalking, you wouldn’t remember, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Then how’d you get back?”
“Ask your dad. He’s my lifesaver.”
At Taeheun’s words, the kid turned to the man.
The man, about to scoop soup, sighed softly and shot Taeheun a glance—not a glare, but a subtly coy look, new to Taeheun. He stared, memorizing it.
“Dad!”
The kid pressed for an answer.
“Let’s eat. He wasn’t sleepwalking.”
“Ugh, spoilsport. Can’t play along?”
Taeheun griped.
“Just eat.”
The man said curtly.
The puzzled kid looked between them. Taeheun winked, gesturing to eat. The kid grinned.
The beef radish soup was tear-inducingly delicious. No trace of summer radish’s bitterness. Though out of season, the radish was sweet, the beef tender. Knowing it was made for him made it tastier. Like the kid, he devoured two bowls of soup and rice. Heartbroken yet ravenous—surprising.
Taeheun didn’t want to mope in a corner. Alone, he’d feel too lonely. More so since meeting the man and kid.
He joined them on the truck, ignoring the man’s insistence to rest at home.
“Then at least rest at the youth club office. Water on your wounds will make them worse.”
“I’m fine. I can’t rest. Resting feels like dying.”
Taeheun was stubborn.
At the mention of dying, the man stopped arguing.