DP Episode 86

Deep Pivot Episode 86

Seo-joon entered the study and scanned the bookshelf. Though it was called a study, it only had a rarely used desktop and a bookshelf lining one wall.

“Ah, Yeon-woo, you can use that computer for your school assignments. There’s a laptop in the desk drawer too, so you can take it with you if needed.”

As he skimmed through TOEIC and tactical books he had often referred to upon his promotion to lieutenant, he diligently searched for something until he finally found a thin hardcover album.

“Found it.”

Yeon-woo, who had been inspecting the desktop and laptop Seo-joon pointed out, lifted his head. Seo-joon, now seated on the floor, patted the spot next to him.

“Come and sit here. I can’t make you younger, but I can show you some photos.”

Yeon-woo approached and sat next to him, eyes widening at the first page of the album.

“Is this you when you were younger, Lieutenant?”

“When I was at the orphanage.”

“…….”

With his mouth slightly agape, Yeon-woo examined each photo. The photos, taken with a film camera which is rarely used now, had faded a bit with age.

“This was taken a few days after I arrived at the orphanage.”

In other words, it was shortly after he was found in the snow in the middle of winter. The six-year-old child standing in front of a large tree, in a military stance, had no noticeable expression. He seemed a bit tense.

“These are my parents.”

They looked more like grandparents than parents. Seo-joon stood awkwardly between the elderly couple, his expression equally stiff.

“This was taken at my elementary school graduation.”

As Yeon-woo turned the pages, he couldn’t take his eyes off Seo-joon’s maturing face. Before long, they were lying side by side on the soft rug, flipping through the album together.

Young Seo-joon was a boy who seldom smiled. His features gradually matured, but his characteristic stern expression remained, making Yeon-woo chuckle silently. Gently tracing the chubby cheeks with his fingertip, Yeon-woo remarked,

“This is the first time I’ve seen photos taken with a film camera.”

“It wasn’t very common in my time, either. But the nuns at our orphanage valued keeping paper records, and my adoptive parents were old-fashioned folks who didn’t like digital photos.”

Ironically, his adoptive parents were right. Seo-joon lost many things on the day the gate opened in the backyard.

All the digital data that seemed like it would last forever was lost without any backup, and only this album, some old clothes too small to wear, and a few dust-covered antiques in the basement remained.

Turning the page, Seo-joon appeared in the school uniform seen in the dressing room earlier. It was a middle school graduation photo. Standing with his friends, he was much taller than them but still had the same stern expression.

Yeon-woo carefully examined the photos as they gradually resembled the Seo-joon he knew, then suddenly asked, “Were your eyes always the same color back then?”

He looked up at Seo-joon. His irises were gray—a color that sometimes seemed like the brightest part of the Milky Way or a sky full of rain clouds.

Since it wasn’t a common eye color, he had assumed it was a manifestation of his esper awakening.

“Yeah, my eyes were always like this, even before I awakened. I was teased a lot as a kid for being a ‘monster.'”

Seo-joon laughed it off as if it didn’t matter. Yeon-woo silently watched him for a moment before tilting his head to kiss the corner of his eye. When Seo-joon reflexively closed and opened his eyes, Yeon-woo’s lips met his.

“You’re beautiful.”

“…….”

“If I had met you as a child, I’m sure I’d have fallen for you.”

Seo-joon, with his cheek resting on his arm, gently brushed Yeon-woo’s nose with his finger.

“Me too.”

“Liar.”

Yeon-woo turned his head with a pout.

“You wouldn’t even remember….”

Seo-joon chuckled and looked at him with a steady gaze. Yeon-woo returned to the album, his eyes sparkling as he looked at each photo of Seo-joon over and over again. He seemed intent on engraving every page into his memory, and Seo-joon couldn’t help but smile quietly.

He had never opened the album before, despite keeping it around. What could be so interesting in old photos that the person himself didn’t even look at?

“Pick one you like.”

“What?”

“I said I’d give you something other than a uniform. I’ll give you a childhood photo.”

Yeon-woo’s eyes lit up like a child in a candy store.

“But these are precious to you. Is it okay for me to take one?”

His words said otherwise, but his eager gaze said he wanted them all. Seo-joon smiled and stroked his hair.

“You’re precious to me too, Yeon-woo.”

Yeon-woo quickly turned his head, his mouth set in a firm line, seemingly trying to suppress a rising smile, but his ears had already flushed bright red.

“Please give me a warning before you say things like that.”

Seo-joon burst out laughing.

“Would it be any different if I gave you a warning?”

“So I can record it.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

Seo-joon firmly took Yeon-woo’s hand, which was fumbling for his phone, and declared, “The moment you turn on the recorder, I won’t say a word.”

“Then just keep breathing. I’ll record your breath at least—mmph.”

Seo-joon covered his mouth. Yeon-woo’s muffled laughter reached his palm. His crescent-moon eyes above the covered mouth were so endearing that he wanted to climb on top of him right there.

“Hurry up and choose before I change my mind.”

“Give me a little more time. I can’t decide…”

Yeon-woo returned his focus to the album, carefully inspecting the photos he had seen multiple times.

Seo-joon lay on his side, observing Yeon-woo’s face intently. His eyes darted from side to side, lips nervously bitten. Every detail fascinated Seo-joon more than the old album itself.

“Um… then,” Yeon-woo finally spoke hesitantly, pointing at a photo on the last page. It was a high school ID photo that Seo-joon had snapped carelessly at a photo booth.

“I want to keep this tucked behind my student ID so I can look at it whenever I want.”

Seo-joon smiled and nodded, taking out the photo for him. A bright smile spread across Yeon-woo’s face, as if he’d obtained a treasure worth gold from a simple ID photo.

He quickly stood and scurried away, returning shortly. Seo-joon watched Yeon-woo like an excited puppy. Yeon-woo slid Seo-joon’s photo into the back pocket of a lanyard-style wallet containing his student ID and debit card and showed it off with pride.

Seo-joon took it and inspected it. Skipping over his own photo, he looked at Yeon-woo’s student ID on the front. It had been taken before Yeon-woo manifested his guide abilities.

Returning the pocket to Yeon-woo, Seo-joon said firmly, “Give me your student ID when you graduate.”

Yeon-woo nodded eagerly. He then lay beside Seo-joon, holding the photo up with pride. Seo-joon turned to face him with a smirk.

“It seems like you like that photo more than me.”

“No way.”

Finally taking his eyes off the photo, Yeon-woo wrapped his arms around Seo-joon’s waist.

“I chose it because it’s the closest to how you look in the videos.”

“Videos? Oh, that news interview on MeTube.”

“Yes.”

Actually… Yeon-woo trailed off, tracing Seo-joon’s chest with his finger.

“I watched that video more than a thousand times.”

Seo-joon chuckled, holding his hand.

“Well, that explains why the view count is so high.”

Whether I was sad or happy, cold or hot, I always watched it. Seeing you move and speak made me believe everything would be okay. Even if something difficult happened, I felt better.

Listening to his whispered words, Seo-joon looked at him. He didn’t know the weight of Cha Yeon-woo’s life in his teenage years, but he knew it couldn’t have been easy.

“There wasn’t much in that interview.”

“But I just loved everything about it.”

Who am I, really?

“If not for you, I wouldn’t have made it.”

How could an old interview provide comfort to someone living in reality?

His heart ached. Yeon-woo’s unwavering affection for Seo-joon was proof of his own deep loneliness. The sadness of his life, where he had to rely on an old interview to feel secure, pained Seo-joon.

“So, all that talk about loving cat videos was just a front, huh?”

Yeon-woo laughed at Seo-joon’s joke, his innocent smile so bright it nearly blinded Seo-joon.

“Strangely, after watching your video, a lot of cat videos popped up in the algorithm.”

“You’re talking nonsense again.”

“I’m serious…”

Seo-joon chuckled and brushed Yeon-woo’s cheek. His face, eyes softly closing, was heartbreakingly lovely. Seo-joon traced his deep eye sockets, easily reddening eyes, straight nose, and lips.

While you grew up upright, I committed awful sins and lived so miserably.

What do you see in me?

“Thank you, Yeon-woo.”

You, who shine so brightly.

“For not forgetting about me and coming back.”

Yeon-woo leaned in close, and Seo-joon’s cold nose warmed from his touch. The warmth made tears well up in his eyes.

A comforting silence fell between the two lying on the study floor. Seo-joon turned to face the ceiling, cooling his tearful eyes with a weak joke.

“Dating a high schooler is more fun than I thought. Now I get to see student IDs, too.”

“A high schooler?”

Yeon-woo bolted upright, lightly thumping Seo-joon’s chest.

“You better tease me all you can now since there’s only a few weeks left.”

Seo-joon interlaced his fingers with Yeon-woo’s and smiled. Make sure to plan a good graduation gift.

His weekends, usually empty, now felt complete with just Yeon-woo’s presence. Though they weren’t doing anything special, every moment with him felt like it was shining.

For the first time in his life, Seo-joon looked forward to the next month, two months, and beyond.

Because Yeon-woo would surely be there with him.