WOP Ch 3.1

Ha Joyoon checked the message again, confirming the time and place sent by Shin Kwonjoo, then leaned against the outer wall of the building and put away his phone. The appointed time had passed, but there was no sign of the person he was waiting for. It might be due to the increased traffic during rush hour. Now that the difference in day and night length was noticeable, the sky was filled with a wide sunset, even though it wasn’t that late.

Joyoon rubbed his stiff neck, feeling the fatigue throughout his body from the demanding schedule. Despite his efforts to focus on rehabilitation, his energy levels hadn’t fully recovered. Even with similar levels of activity as before, he felt twice as exhausted, and on days like today, when his fatigue peaked, he needed several days to recover.

He wondered if he could continue his work as a special correspondent in this state. There was a time when he could handle fieldwork, overnight stays, and all-nighters without a problem. The realization that health could be so easily lost was bitter.

Lost in thought, Joyoon rubbed his eyes. He was so tired from the all-nighter that he couldn’t refuse when Shin Kwonjoo offered to pick him up. A silly smile escaped his lips as he tried to find an excuse. He couldn’t argue with Shin Kwonjoo’s criticism that his actions and words were clumsy.

Beep beep—

As he was lost in thought, a car horn sounded gently a couple of times nearby. He saw a familiar car approaching. The sedan pulled up smoothly and stopped where Joyoon was standing. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.

“Get in. Traffic was bad because it’s rush hour,” the man said briefly, gesturing to the passenger seat. For a moment, Joyoon thought about taking a quick nap in the back seat, but he knew Shin Kwonjoo would be furious at the mere suggestion, so he opened the passenger door instead. Click. As the door opened, a refreshing scent filled the air.

“Where was your meeting?” Ha Joyoon asked casually as he pulled on his seatbelt, remembering that Shin Kwonjoo had asked for his location and mentioned he was nearby for a meeting. The man’s hand, which had been expertly turning the steering wheel, paused for a moment.

“Would you know if I told you?” he asked.

“…What do you mean? I know Seoul well; it’s my hometown,” Joyoon replied.

The man glanced at him with an unreadable expression, silently urging him not to ask further. Joyoon awkwardly tightened his seatbelt, feeling the tension. It was strange. Shin Kwonjoo’s disapproving expression no longer seemed scary, and his sharp words and cold sarcasm no longer bothered him. Though Joyoon was somewhat insensitive to others’ thoughts and feelings, he sensed that the dynamic between them was slowly changing.

“Lost in your own world again?” the man teased.

“…What?” Joyoon replied, confused.

“You must be imagining something weird,” the man said with a light laugh, still looking straight ahead.

Joyoon felt his face flush with embarrassment. “It’s just a bit hot. I ran here,” he explained.

“You’re in good shape,” the man commented.

“Are you making fun of me…?” Joyoon asked.

“And you’re getting better at reading people,” the man said in a lower voice, sounding pleased. Joyoon could feel the heat in his cheeks.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Joyoon asked.

“No reason,” the man replied.

“Your face is all red,” he teased.

Joyoon felt a mix of emotions, realizing that he had revealed more of himself than he intended. He wondered what he was thinking, coming this far. He glanced at the man’s brown eyes, which seemed troubled.

After understanding and accepting Kang Taejung’s change of heart and their breakup, many things changed between the two, and some things remained the same. More accurately, Ha Joyoon’s feelings toward Shin Kwonjoo had changed, but Shin Kwonjoo’s attitude and feelings toward Ha Joyoon had not.

The only time Shin Kwonjoo had shown any vulnerability was that night.

“If you’re hot, I can turn down the temperature,” the man offered.

“No, it’s fine,” Joyoon replied.

“Just for a moment,” the man insisted.

“Okay…” Joyoon agreed.

“You always do things in stages, Ha Joyoon,” the man commented.

“Ha ha.”

An embarrassed smile naturally escaped him. Even Shin Kwonjoo’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at him.

It’s strange.

Lately, I’ve been smiling too much.

Joyoon suddenly felt afraid of the end of this relationship he had fearlessly jumped into. He had started it without knowing anything, but the more he learned about the unexpected aspects of the other person, the more anxious he became. He wondered if the other person felt the same way. The changing air, breaths, touches, thoughts… everything was jumbled in Joyoon’s mind.

“Why are you spacing out again?” Shin Kwonjoo asked.

Joyoon didn’t respond, and Shin Kwonjoo returned to his usual calm demeanor. Seeing this, Joyoon felt a tightness in his chest for the first time.

He knew it wasn’t love, but it was a strange feeling nonetheless.

When they arrived home, it was late, and the night air was thick. The sedan slowed down as it approached the alley entrance near the house and came to a complete stop.

“Thank you,” Joyoon said.

“You’re welcome. Go inside,” Shin Kwonjoo replied.

Joyoon nodded briefly, and Shin Kwonjoo waved. An awkward silence hung in the air. Lately, Shin Kwonjoo had been driving him home like this whenever their schedules aligned. It seemed to be happening more frequently, but Joyoon wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it. As he gathered his camera bag, he felt a vague sense of longing.

“Oh, Sunbae,” Joyoon called out, remembering something. Shin Kwonjoo turned to look at him with a slow glance.

“I took an interesting photo on the way here. Would you like to see it?” Joyoon asked.

“A photo?” Shin Kwonjoo replied.

Without waiting for an answer, Joyoon clumsily opened his camera bag. Shin Kwonjoo watched him with an expression that still held a mix of emotions. Joyoon carefully took out the camera and scrolled through the photos he had taken that day.

The screen paused on a particular image, and Joyoon examined the photos before and after it before selecting the best one. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he showed the photo to Shin Kwonjoo. The man’s expression hardened slightly, but Joyoon, focused on the photo, didn’t notice.

“Here…” 

Joyoon said, turning the camera toward Shin Kwonjoo. The screen lit up in the darkness, revealing a rare quadruple rainbow against a clear blue sky.

“I saw a quadruple rainbow today,” Joyoon said proudly.

He explained that he had seen it on his way back from an assignment and that many people had stopped to take photos. However, Shin Kwonjoo remained silent, and Joyoon felt embarrassed for being so excited. He quickly moved on to the next photo.

“Isn’t it amazing? They said it’s very rare…” 

Joyoon trailed off, feeling more and more awkward as Shin Kwonjoo didn’t respond. His voice grew softer as he continued to explain.

“I’ve seen triple rainbows before, but never a quadruple. Everyone was amazed and took photos. I happened to see it on my way back,” Joyoon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Suddenly, Shin Kwonjoo’s face was cast in shadow as he leaned in and kissed Joyoon roughly. His hot tongue invaded Joyoon’s mouth without asking for permission. Joyoon’s head was tilted back, and Shin Kwonjoo’s large hands cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss. Their breaths mingled, hot and cold, as they kissed passionately.

Shin Kwonjoo cursed under his breath as he struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt. Finally free, he leaned over Joyoon, pressing him back against the seat. A muffled moan escaped Joyoon’s lips as Shin Kwonjoo’s body covered his. He could feel the man’s heart beating fast and strong against his chest.

“So,” Shin Kwonjoo said, his voice low and rough.

“Haah…” Joyoon panted.

“You wanted to show me?” Shin Kwonjoo asked, his voice husky with desire.

Joyoon rubbed his forehead against Shin Kwonjoo’s shoulder, feeling the heat between them. He could feel the tension in the man’s body as he pressed against him.

“What was so amazing?” Shin Kwonjoo asked.

“I…” 

Joyoon started to explain, but Shin Kwonjoo cut him off.

“Why are you so naive at your age?” he asked, his voice a mix of criticism and desire.

Joyoon didn’t know how to respond. He could feel the man’s desire pressing against him, and his own body responded in kind. Shin Kwonjoo’s lips found his again, and he kissed him deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of Joyoon’s mouth.

“Do you know how you look at me?” Shin Kwonjoo asked, his voice a low growl.

Joyoon’s body trembled at the intensity of the man’s gaze. He could feel the heat building between them as Shin Kwonjoo’s body pressed against his. The man’s breath was hot against his ear as he whispered, 

“You’ve been looking at me like this from the beginning.”

“What… um….”

“Look at me. Help me.”

“I never….”

Despite the harsh words, the feeling of the kisses that swept over his lips, cheeks, and eyelids was ambiguous, making it impossible to guess the other person’s feelings. Taking advantage of a brief moment when their lips parted, Ha Joyoon quickly buried his face in the man’s chest. He could hear the loud beating of his heart as if it were in his own head. A large hand gently pressed down on the back of his neck.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shin Kwonjoo asked.

“What do you mean?” Joyoon replied.

“Don’t try to seduce me so clumsily. You don’t know anything,” Shin Kwonjoo said, his voice rough with desire.

Joyoon thought that these were the words he wanted to say himself. He opened his trembling eyelids and looked into the man’s face. Unlike before, his disheveled hair was clearly Joyoon’s doing. Strangely, he didn’t seem annoyed. The air was thick with tension, and their eyes met in the darkness, filled with heat.

In the darkness, Joyoon’s pale hand trembled as it grabbed the man’s jacket lapel and pulled him closer. Without any resistance, Shin Kwonjoo naturally leaned in. What he had said was actually what Joyoon wanted to ask him.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Why do you have to…

…look at me…

Their lips met again, barely giving them time to catch their breath. Shin Kwonjoo’s hand slipped inside Joyoon’s shirt, roughly caressing his bare skin. The touch was clearly sexual, and Joyoon moaned. His legs trembled as he was pressed down by the man’s weight. A strange heat and sexual urge surged through him. Amidst the intense passion, they continued to explore each other’s bodies for a long time.

“Go inside,” Shin Kwonjoo said, straightening his clothes and giving a quick bow before getting out of the car. The cold night air cooled his sweaty cheeks. He shivered slightly and adjusted his bag, which had slipped down. As the car door closed, the driver’s window rolled down halfway, revealing Shin Kwonjoo. Joyoon thought he was going to say goodbye, but instead, he leaned out and met his gaze.

“I’ll be back next Saturday,” he said.

Joyoon’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he remembered that Shin Kwonjoo was going on a business trip starting tomorrow. He smiled faintly and nodded.

“Okay,” he replied.

There were no promises to wait or meet again. Joyoon just assumed that he would be having another lazy weekend when Shin Kwonjoo returned, and that he would contact him after unpacking.

Shin Kwonjoo looked at him for a moment before turning away with a stern expression. The window rolled up, and the car’s engine rumbled to life as it slowly pulled away. Joyoon watched the car disappear down the alley, unable to take his eyes off it.

The alley returned to its usual quiet state. Joyoon’s lips were swollen from the intense kissing, and his face was flushed. He wondered what people would think if they saw him like this. Embarrassed, he turned to go inside when he heard a familiar voice.

“Yoon-ah.”

Joyoon turned around in surprise to see his sister, Ha Junghye, smiling at him. He broke out in a cold sweat, wondering if she had seen them.

“Are you just getting home? It’s late,” she said.

“Yeah, I was out for work. What about you?” he asked.

“I was out with a friend,” she replied, linking arms with him as they walked to the door. She pressed the intercom, and their mother’s voice came through before the door clicked open.

“Who was that guy?” Junghye asked suddenly, catching Joyoon off guard.

“What?” he stammered.

“I saw his face through the window,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, um…” Joyoon hesitated, not sure what to say.

“Are you seeing someone new?” she asked.

Joyoon didn’t know how to respond. He had never thought about his sexuality before, even when he was dating Kang Taejung. He had only ever felt that way about one person, so he hadn’t given it much thought. But now, as he considered his relationship with Shin Kwonjoo, he realized that Junghye might be right.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“You idiot. How can you not know your own feelings?” she teased.

“I guess,” he replied with a shrug.

“Whatever. Just don’t tell Mom and Dad. They’ll freak out,” she said.

“I won’t,” he promised.

Ha Junghye let out a soft laugh and walked slowly. Ha Joyoon’s steps also slowed to match her pace.

“Still, it’s a relief,” she said.

“What is?” Joyoon asked.

“You seem a bit better. Your expression too…”

Joyoon immediately understood what she meant and avoided her gaze with a slightly twisted smile.

Am I better? I don’t know.

He couldn’t define this relationship. The more they spent time together and the more intimate they became, the more indescribable emotions they exchanged. But neither of them could clearly name what they felt, and they just circled around the issue.

“I’m going to my room, Sis,” Joyoon said.

“Okay. Go rest. Mom and Dad will be home late today,” Junghye replied.

Joyoon wasn’t the only one avoiding defining the relationship. Shin Kwonjoo also never revealed his true feelings, only showing a carefully curated version of himself. Joyoon understood why he did this, but it left him with a bitter feeling. He realized for the first time that he was in a relationship with someone he couldn’t handle, and it was a strange feeling.

Opening the door to his room, Joyoon saw the familiar sight. He slowly walked in, drying his still-damp hair with a towel. His gaze wandered around the room until it stopped at one particular spot. His eyes, reflecting the light, wavered gently like water. He walked heavily across the room.

Today, I’ll really organize things.

Joyoon had been meaning to do this for days. As he prepared to start, his mind drifted back to his past. A nostalgic longing filled his eyes, and he couldn’t shake it off. His steps hesitated until he stopped in front of an old camera in a cabinet.

“…….”

Although decades had passed, the camera was well-maintained and showed no signs of wear. Joyoon reached out with a trembling hand and gently stroked the old camera body and lens.

My first camera.

It was more than just a device to capture the world; it held the pure heart of a young boy. The memories and time contained within the small device were indescribable, and Joyoon lingered in front of it for a long time. The old camera was also a remnant of his relationship with Taejung, something he couldn’t bring himself to organize after their breakup.

Finally, as dawn approached, Joyoon was able to take out this piece of his life from the cabinet. He had never used it freely, fearing it might break, but that made it even more precious.

“You even sold your game account and saved up your lunch money for two months… You really fooled me,” Joyoon murmured, his face wet with tears. Every word he spoke was filled with longing, love, and guilt towards Taejung.

“But I really treasured it. Thank you…”

Joyoon sat down in front of the box containing the camera, resting his forehead on it. He whispered over and over again, “I’ll really let you go now, I wish you happiness, and I’ll walk my own path. I’m truly sorry.”

The man put down his glass and walked towards the balcony. As he opened the door, a cool breeze rushed in. The neon signs of the city, still shining late into the night, reflected the lives of the people living there. From a distance, it might look beautiful, but up close, it was a scene of intense competition.

— I think I’ll arrive next week. Aren’t you supposed to return then too?

“…Are you coming straight here?” Shin Kwonjoo asked.

— I don’t know. I think I need to see my father first. I need to prepare.

“Okay.”

He returned to the table, finished the rest of his drink, and ran a hand through his hair. The bitter taste of alcohol lingered in his throat. He habitually rubbed his furrowed brow, his movements stiff and practiced. The person on the other end of the line laughed emptily at his short, abrupt responses.

— You never change.

“What do you mean?” Shin Kwonjoo asked, pouring himself another drink.

— You’re still so cold. You don’t care about my news, do you? You’ve always been like that.

The bitterness in the voice on the other end was palpable. Shin Kwonjoo sighed deeply, swirling the liquor in his glass. He hated these kinds of conversations that dragged on with hidden meanings.

“I don’t want to play games. If you have nothing to say, let’s just hang up. I get what you’re trying to say,” he said.

— Still so cold, still so annoying.

“…….”

— But I loved you, even though you were the worst.

“Stop talking nonsense and just hang up,” Shin Kwonjoo said, ending the call abruptly. The phone vibrated again with a familiar name on the screen, but he ignored it.

Seo Youngwoo stretched his arms and yawned. Even though two days had passed, he still felt hungover. Despite the discomfort, his mood was good. The day before, he had used his hangover as an excuse to spend time with Kang Taejung. His face lit up with a smile as they spent a rare Sunday afternoon together.

As he entered the living room, he saw his partner making a salad in the kitchen. The sight filled him with an indescribable emotion. Taejung’s tall, muscular frame was a perfect addition to the room, completing the picture. Although Taejung had been noticeably quieter and more withdrawn lately, in that moment, all of Youngwoo’s worries disappeared.

Seo Youngwoo quickly approached his partner and wrapped his arms around Taejung’s broad back, hugging his waist. Startled by the sudden touch, Kang Taejung turned around.

“You’re up already?” Taejung asked.

“Yes, I woke up early. Wow, are you making food?” Youngwoo asked, his voice soft and gentle as he wrapped his arms around Taejung.

Taejung gently removed Youngwoo’s arms and smiled awkwardly. “I was going to wake you once everything was ready.”

“We can do it together. Why are you doing everything alone when we’re together?” Youngwoo asked.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for a change,” Taejung replied, carefully tearing lettuce leaves.

Youngwoo’s hand paused as he reached for the dressing. He wanted to say, “It’s not ‘for a change,’ it’s the first time,” but he swallowed the words and forced a smile. His lips trembled slightly.

“Yeah, it feels like it’s been forever since we had a meal like this. What’s the main dish?” Youngwoo asked.

“Just a simple sandwich for breakfast. Is that okay?” Taejung replied.

“I’m good with anything. Is there anything I can help with?” Youngwoo asked.

“It’s just something simple, so it’s fine. I’ve already prepared the ingredients. You can watch TV,” Taejung said.

“Wow, such great service,” Youngwoo said with a playful smile, turning on the radio and walking to the living room sofa. A lively pop song filled the room, marking the lazy Sunday morning.

Soon, a beautifully prepared sandwich was served on a plate. The salad, dressed with balsamic vinegar, and the sandwich, filled with delicious ingredients, looked appetizing. Youngwoo exaggeratedly cheered and moved to the dining table.

“This looks amazing!” he exclaimed.

Taejung smiled faintly at Youngwoo’s enthusiasm. He had skipped visiting his family this week to spend time with Youngwoo, feeling guilty for neglecting him recently. Even though he knew it was only a temporary solution, he pushed the reality aside once again.

Taejung pushed the plate closer to Youngwoo. “Eat up.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Youngwoo asked.

“I snacked while preparing, so I’m full. I’ll eat later,” Taejung replied.

“It’s no fun eating alone,” Youngwoo said, rolling up his sleeves and taking a big bite of the sandwich. He chewed mechanically, tasting nothing despite the delicious smell. It felt like chewing rubber, but he kept exaggerating his expressions to compliment the food.

“Is it good?” Taejung asked.

“Yes, it’s really delicious. What a treat,” Youngwoo replied.

“I’m glad you like it. You haven’t been eating much lately. You seem distracted. Is everything okay?” Taejung asked, his voice filled with concern.

Youngwoo wanted to say, “Actually, I can’t taste anything. It’s like I’m eating nothing.” But the words wouldn’t come out. The atmosphere was warm and caring, but there was a fragile tension, like walking on thin ice. One wrong move could shatter everything.

The warm autumn sunlight filled the room through the balcony window. A familiar melody played on the radio, and delicious food was on the table. It should have been a perfect Sunday morning with his loved one. But Youngwoo’s movements slowed until he stopped chewing altogether. He felt a sudden urge to unburden his heart.

“Taejung,” he called out.

Taejung looked up from the salad he was poking at, his expression gentle and caring. But Youngwoo knew it was a facade. He closed his eyes briefly and put down the remaining bread.

“I’ve been assigned to a new photo exhibition project. It’s scheduled for next year, and the exhibition will open the year after,” Youngwoo said.

“That’s great. I heard your last exhibition was a success. They must be planning a follow-up,” Taejung replied casually, still poking at the salad.

“Yes, they’re pushing for a series. It’s for the TPA Communications photo exhibition,” Youngwoo said.

At the mention of the company’s name, Taejung’s movements stopped, and his expression hardened. His eyes, empty and lifeless, stared blankly at Youngwoo.

Youngwoo felt a lump in his throat, as if it were filled with sand. He moved closer to Taejung and rested his head on his shoulder, taking his hand. But there was no warmth or strength in their intertwined fingers.

“I visited the Korean branch office a few days ago for a preliminary meeting,” Youngwoo said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Taejung’s hand twitched beneath Youngwoo’s. Youngwoo continued, “I saw him there. I didn’t expect it, and it was a shock. I thought he was recuperating at home.”

“I see,” Taejung replied quietly.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Youngwoo described his encounter with Ha Joyoon, trying to act normal.

“He looked the same,” Youngwoo said, his voice trembling slightly.

He still drew people’s attention. Quiet, yet radiant. Seeing his eyes looking straight at me made me so angry. I was furious for no reason and blurted out whatever came to mind. I felt like a pathetic loser.

In the continuing silence, Seo Youngwoo cautiously observed Taejung. The man sitting next to him said nothing, offering neither criticism nor comfort.

“It was an awkward situation. I was so distracted that I don’t even remember how it ended. It’s been bothering me, and I’ve been feeling uneasy lately. I’m sorry if I’ve been irritable with you. I wanted to talk about it, but once I missed the chance, I couldn’t find the right moment. So, it’s my issue. I’m just feeling anxious,” Youngwoo said.

“I see,” Taejung replied softly.

“I know you and that person are completely over. I just felt anxious for no reason.”

As Youngwoo spoke, he felt Taejung’s shoulder tremble slightly. The subtle movement did not escape Youngwoo’s notice. Feeling a bad premonition, he lifted his head from Taejung’s shoulder and turned to face him directly.

“Taejung,” Youngwoo called out.

“Yeah,” Taejung responded, his face etched with pain and longing.

“You don’t still have feelings for him, do you?” 

Youngwoo asked, his voice trembling with fear.

“What are you talking about?” 

Taejung replied, his handsome face contorting in confusion. But his expression only confirmed Youngwoo’s suspicions.

“You don’t still miss him, do you? I thought you were completely mine now. Was I wrong? Have you not moved on?” 

Youngwoo asked, his voice rising in panic as he grabbed Taejung’s arms.

“Why do you still look so sad? Do you want to go back to him?” 

Youngwoo demanded, his voice filled with pain and insecurity.

“Calm down. Why are you suddenly like this?” Taejung asked, trying to soothe him.

“Look at your face! Can’t you see how you look?” Youngwoo cried out, his emotions spiraling out of control.

Taejung grabbed Youngwoo’s hands, trying to calm him, but Youngwoo’s anxiety and fear were overwhelming.

“We’ve been together for almost a year. You said it was completely over a few months ago! You said there was no chance of reconciliation!” Youngwoo shouted, his voice shaking with emotion.

“Youngwoo,” Taejung said softly, his voice filled with regret.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been really tired lately,” Youngwoo said, trying to control his tears. But his emotions were too raw to be easily calmed. His shoulders shook with sobs.

“Youngwoo,” Taejung whispered, his voice filled with self-blame. He wrapped his arms around Youngwoo, holding him tightly as Youngwoo buried his face in Taejung’s chest.

“Youngwoo,” Taejung said again, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” Youngwoo replied, his voice choked with emotion. He bit his lip, trying to hold back his tears. Taejung’s hands, stroking Youngwoo’s back, were filled with regret and sorrow.

“Don’t be so anxious. I’m with you,” Taejung said softly.

“Taejung…” Youngwoo whispered.

“I’m always grateful to you, and I’m sorry. I know I treated you badly before, but I wanted someone by my side. And that person was you,” Taejung said, his voice filled with sincerity.

But Youngwoo’s breath caught in his throat as Taejung’s next words hit him like a blow. “It could have been anyone.” Taejung’s words echoed in his mind, shattering his fragile sense of security. Taejung seemed oblivious to the impact of his words, unaware of the pain he was causing.

“I know you feel inadequate. But I’m trying my best for you in my own way. I want to make up for the awful thing I did to you that day.”

“Hyung…”

“You said you were fine, but I know this is something you can never be okay with.”

The sins hidden away start to reveal themselves. Suddenly, Seo Youngwoo thought this situation was unbearable. How long must he live in this anxiety? Should he tell the truth now?

However, the deliberation didn’t last long. Whether it was out of guilt or avoidance, the crucial point was that Taejung had chosen him. Even though there were several opportunities to fix the situation, Seo Youngwoo always chose to avoid and deceive for immediate happiness. The hesitation was brief, and the conclusion came quickly.

Not yet. Not yet…

However, his forcibly steadied heart shattered into fragments with the words that followed, scattering all over the floor.

“And…”

“…”

“We can’t go back now.”

An inescapable force tightly gripped Seo Youngwoo’s neck. His trembling fingertips, like those in a seizure, had turned white, devoid of warmth. He couldn’t even grasp what he had heard. Taejung, unable to hide his feelings, continued in a pained voice.

“It ended so badly with Yoon and me. I… can’t be anything to that guy anymore. Not even friends. I ruined it all with my own hands.”

“…”

“It was that bad. So…”

He looked like he didn’t even know what he was saying. Seo Youngwoo stared at Kang Taejung, who was silently screaming with a vacant look. His lover’s words were not a conversation with him but a harsh confession to someone who wasn’t there. A cold snake, revealing its venomous fangs, climbed up Seo Youngwoo’s ankle. The skin where the snake’s scales touched was burning with fear.

The unsaid words mixed with the vocals from the speaker and vanished. To the song’s lyrics questioning if we are truly happy, Seo Youngwoo could give no answer.

The heart, embraced by the cold chest, sinks deeper and deeper. The cruelty of calling out an endearment from the time when he unconsciously loved the other now tears his heart apart like shattered glass.

“…Yes.”

“…”

Unable to bear the trace of those feelings, he fiercely grabbed and pulled at his collar, drawing the tall figure towards him. The gentle and kind face with chiseled features came into view.

“I understand what you’re saying, so stop… please stop…”

There was no warmth or passion in the eyes looking at him, just lukewarm heat. It was a fact that wasn’t surprising, but it felt especially raw. He gently rubbed against the straight, sharp nose. The warmth of the skin lingered habitually between breaths.

Pushing aside the guilt and shame, Seo Youngwoo recklessly pressed his lips against Kang Taejung’s. The chapped lips were rough, almost like thorns. His body mechanically responded to the forced gesture, but the parched earth would not moisten.

“That’s enough.”

Even though they were together, he felt lonely, unable to feel the sincerity of the other. Just words, just kindness in words. In this precarious sense of duty about to collapse, their directionless hearts clawed at each other chaotically. Only the languid sunlight on this battlefield without sound enjoyed the leisure of the weekend, smiling cruelly.

❄

Image data is drawn on the photo paper. What the laser records isn’t just simple data; it’s a slice of ongoing history, proof, and also the very time of his lost twenties. The gaze watching the gradually appearing shapes held both tension and peace. The breath of those who couldn’t be with him began to show more clearly.

After a certain exposure time, a man in ragged clothes appeared first on the white paper. Following him, a small lump wrapped in a white cloth stained with red here and there also came into view. The father, holding the body of a child killed by gunfire, was crossing the barbed wire at the border, risking his life. His wrinkled, soot-stained face showed no sorrow or grief, just the determination to bring the child’s body to a safe place, which was all the emotion etched in his tired eyes.

Ha Joyoon quietly took a breath, engraving their lives deeply into his eyes through the lens as each piece of his record appeared.

“We’ll proceed with the interview as planned. The collection work for the exhibition, too.”

This was the conclusion after weeks of contemplation. Kim Chaehwan, habitually lifting his glasses, looked at the person standing before him.

“Will it be okay? You can’t back out now, Mr. Ha Joyoon.”

There was a hint of concern from the disastrous pre-meeting a few weeks ago. The day after the meeting, Ha Joyoon had expressed his intention to temporarily withdraw from the photo exhibition, but the editor-in-chief wanted him to think it over one last time. Even after several rejections, Kim Chaehwan’s will was firm. Joyoon scratched his cheek awkwardly and spoke.

“I was sorry then. I showed an immature attitude.”

“No, no. I wasn’t trying to criticize.”

The man, briefly swallowing a grunt, continued.

“You seemed troubled by that employee too, and since there were many issues, we decided to proceed together. I felt guilty for pushing the decision, thinking it might make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It’s just work, after all.”

“Do you know him?”

“…No. He’s a stranger. I just couldn’t control my emotions.”

His voice wavered momentarily but that was it. Ha Joyoon shook his head with a steady expression as if nothing had happened.

“Everyone makes mistakes, especially on first meetings. Don’t take it too much to heart. People think differently, some value meaning like you do, while others cherish their own people more. Think of it that way. It would be a pity if those good photos you took didn’t get a chance to be seen because of such comments. Good decision.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Anyway, after you left, that employee got chewed out by Director Shin until he was nothing but dust.”

“…Oh.”

The man, who had been shaking his head in disgust with his arms crossed, shivered again as he recalled the memory of that day.

“It was really brutal. ‘Who do you think you are to say something like that?’… He went on and on, but the gist was, ‘Stop talking nonsense and go home to hold onto your bowl of rice.'”

“Yes…”

“That guy’s something else. Considering he still wanted to go on after hearing that, he either has a strong desire for the job or he’s just clueless. If I had been told that, I’d be down for months.”

Unfathomable emotions quietly knocked on the door. Leaving the editor-in-chief’s incessant talk about that day behind, Ha Joyoon cast a long gaze towards the office across the way.

The firmly shut door with the blinds fully down. It was an everyday scene, but today it felt distinctly different. Or perhaps, if one looked closer, it might not have been just today, but instinct did not allow for a deeper introspection of emotions and thoughts. Even though just a day ago he was physically close to the man inside that room, Ha Joyoon couldn’t explain the sense of distance he felt.

“Anyway, judging by results, it seems like Director Shin is looking after you quite well.”

After a long bout of grumbling, he suddenly concluded, his elongated eyes widening in surprise. Kim Chaehwan, who had been scrolling through something on the monitor, added one last comment.

“Go and tell the director exactly what I just said. Say you’ll work hard on the interview.”

“What? But…”

“It’s not like him to show concern, so it’s good if you can make a good impression. The director’s been really prickly lately, and it’s exhausting me. Even though you don’t seem to care about these things, at least say ‘thank you for that time’ to him. Please, save me.”

“…”

“You have another schedule this afternoon, so go report this quickly before then. Something happened over the weekend; he was prickly at the morning meeting today too. You went on a business trip and did well, so I don’t know why he’s like this. At least you’re on good terms with him.”

“Not really that close. And if I go now, I’ll just get scolded…”

“Go— go. The director won’t scold you. Even if he does, it won’t be as harsh as what we get. Trust me.”

With a broad, friendly smile, Kim Chaehwan made his point. Understanding that this was more than just words, Ha Joyoon silently nodded and turned away.

His steps towards the office felt unbearably heavy after the events of the weekend they spent together. Despite it not being something that should have caused such a reaction, neither he nor the other could control their emotions well.

Knock, knock—

A deep, resonant sound echoed from beyond the thick wooden door. No response came from inside, suggesting he was focused on work. Taking another deep breath, he knocked again.

“Director Shin, it’s Ha Joyoon.”

How much time passed? After a while, a low voice from inside told him to enter.

Click—

Even though he frequented the place, the sense of intimidation the space gave off still weighed heavily on visitors each time he entered. Shin Kwonjoo, who had been scanning documents at his desk, glanced momentarily towards the door where Ha Joyoon stood. The brief look quickly turned cold, returning to the papers. In that fleeting moment, Ha Joyoon’s quiet heart began to beat loudly and slowly.

“What is it?”

His tone, cutting off any chance for a long answer, was both familiar and strange. The hesitation was brief. Noticing Ha Joyoon’s approach, Shin Kwonjoo finally paused his work and fixed his gaze directly ahead. Meeting his direct stare, Ha Joyoon felt an awkwardness about reporting what he had to say.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Speak.”

“I’ve decided to participate in the photo exhibition as planned. I’ll also proceed with the interview.”

His thick eyebrows slightly arched, signaling to elaborate. At this moment, Ha Joyoon felt regret for the past choice of revealing his relationship with Seo Youngwoo to him, covering his neck with his hand in discomfort.

“…I think it will be fine.”

Words that couldn’t be said to Kim Chaehwan came out naturally.

It should be fine. Even if this issue continued to cause trouble or fester, and even if he had to face the person most directly involved, work was a separate matter. The hellish pain he felt when they first met was recovering faster than he expected over just a few days.

Ha Joyoon felt both joy and sorrow at the changes within him. It was both change and resignation, understanding and surrender.

“If Ha Joyoon thinks it’s fine, then it must be fine.”

Shin Kwonjoo, having listened to his answer, shrugged lightly, indicating agreement. But that was all; no further reaction came. Faced with this unusual silence and coldness, Ha Joyoon tilted his head in confusion. Though not quick to pick up on social cues, he could sense the stark change in atmosphere.

“…Are you… angry?”

After hesitation, he carefully spoke. Shin Kwonjoo’s face crumpled like a piece of paper at his words.

“Angry? What would I have to be angry about?”

“Last night…”

Before finishing his sentence, memories surfaced, and his mouth clamped shut. The man, waiting for him to continue speaking, frowned at the prolonged silence, raising both hands with a look of clear displeasure.

“Did you forget what I said at the beginning?”

His tone was somewhat agitated. Confused by the unclear reference, Joyoon blinked in bewilderment. The beginning. Perhaps he meant when he proposed a partnership.

Wondering if he had done something wrong, Joyoon recalled the conditions Shin Kwonjoo had laid out. But no matter how hard he thought, he hadn’t done anything outside those terms. Maybe the director was angry because this topic was brought up at work, but the next words were unexpected.

“I don’t force relationships with people who say no.”

Surprised by the snappy response, Joyoon shook his head firmly.

“No, Sunbae, it’s not that…”