7 – Tit for Tat (7)

Chapter 6

Hae-won, who had suffered a sudden seizure, was trapped in a world of his own, dreaming dozens of dreams. For the most part, they were vivid and raw. If he had to pick the most frequent ones:

First. A dream where he and Gi-tae were sitting on the porch trimming spinach, only for Seo Hae-young to suddenly barge in and slice Gi-tae’s neck off with a sharp hand axe. Every time the palm-sized blade swung high and struck down, blood sprayed in all directions. While Seo Hae-young dragged Gi-tae—whose neck was carved open—and hung him upside down, Hae-won did nothing but tremble, clutching his head. As he pulled his feet back to avoid the blood seeping into the grain of the wooden porch, the blood-stained axe dropped with a thud in front of him. Before he could even think of escaping, a pair of slender legs bent, and the moment he locked eyes with a smiling Seo Hae-young asking, “I did well, right?” he woke up.

Second. A dream of fire. In the pitch-black night, he would wake up to a searing heat, only to find flames engulfing the room. Gi-tae, who had woken up first and gone outside, would let out a death scream, and as Hae-won hurriedly followed him out, he collided with Seo Hae-young, who stood there as if he had been waiting for him to emerge. Seo Hae-young, clicking the lid of a lighter and smiling, saying, “I’ve been waiting.” He struggled through that cruel yet not entirely surreal dream, and by the time he opened his eyes, two days had passed.

He pushed himself up, his body drenched in cold sweat, but the person he saw was not the Seo Hae-young who had haunted his dreams. Staring at a basin of water, a wet towel, and a fish-shaped keychain hanging beside a dusty picture frame, motionless, Hae-won clenched his tingling fists.

That day, it was indeed Gi-tae who had brought him from the pebbled shore. It seemed Gi-tae was also the one who had put bandages on the small wounds remaining on his hands and feet. He was the one who slid a small tray of modest food through the gap in the door at every mealtime, and the one who checked the room every dark night. There were many things he was curious about and wanted to ask, but he couldn’t utter a single word to Gi-tae, who would only check his wounds with a stiff expression before leaving the room.

Their conversations had dwindled to a handful. Although Gi-tae was said to be a man of few words to begin with, the atmosphere he radiated felt different. Whether it was discomfort at the fact that two men were in this situation, or whether the conclusion reached after a long story was disgusting, every second was underpinned by an underlying unease.

Thus, since Gi-tae slept in a small side room and gave up the main room, they rarely crossed paths unless Gi-tae came to retrieve something. Even if it didn’t show, Gi-tae was such a kind person that his sympathy or sense of responsibility seemed to outweigh his repulsion. Even the way he would frown his thick eyebrows and tell him to “Go inside” whenever Hae-won tried to leave the house was likely a form of consideration.

Whenever Gi-tae sighed while looking at his cheek—which had gone from swollen to a deep purple bruise—Hae-won would read his mood and burrow back into his bedding, but sleep would not come. As if the aftermath of sleeping all day had hit him, he couldn’t sleep a wink now. Naturally, he began skipping meals frequently, and even in front of Gi-tae, who would offer a silent prompt without taking the tray away, he often put down his utensils quickly.

Full-blown winter knocked loudly on the closed door, but the swirling conflict only deepened rather than resolving. As the X-marks on the wall calendar increased, worry and anxiety piled up. He worried about Seo Hae-young. What had he been thinking since he left him behind, had he returned home properly, was he sick, had he disappeared entirely, why wasn’t he coming to find him.

After tossing and turning for two more nights, Hae-won threw off the covers and stepped out into the yard. The weather was beyond chilly; it was bone-piercing. Gi-tae was nowhere to be seen, likely gone to work. Rubbing his goosebump-covered arms, he quickly moved toward the wall. Starting from the tightly closed main gate, he thoroughly inspected the wall surrounding the yard. He walked along the wall, which showed signs of being meticulously cleaned without a single fallen leaf, shifting his eyes back and forth, but there was no foreign object upon it. As the tension vanished, the secret hope he had harbored also faded.

“Ah…”

He felt a profound sense of heartbreak for which he couldn’t explain the reason. With a hollow expression, Hae-won looked around, poking his head over the wall for no reason and kicking at the weeds that hadn’t died even in winter. The moment he absentmindedly grabbed the main gate, his shoulders jerked.

“What are you doing there?”

Turning toward the voice of the man he thought had left, he saw Gi-tae, a basket tucked under his arm, staring grumpily at the hand resting on the gate frame. Hae-won hurriedly pulled his hand away so as not to show he had been searching for something. Perhaps his behavior seemed unreliable, as Gi-tae set the basket on the porch and gestured to him. As Hae-won approached with a heavy heart, Gi-tae tapped the porch, signaling him to sit.

“Trim these and then rest. I’m going to make rice.”

With a firm expression, as if telling him not to even dream of leaving the house, Gi-tae stood up and walked toward the kitchen. Suddenly holding a basket full of bean sprouts, Hae-won let out a short sigh. It seemed Gi-tae perceived Seo Hae-young as someone to be wary of—and Hae-won as the idiot who stubbornly clung to his side even while being beaten. It wasn’t exactly wrong.

He stared blankly at the bean sprouts, half of which had already been trimmed and neatly organized to one side, before lifting his hands. It seemed like a good way to distract himself, but the repetitive labor soon invited stray thoughts. As he plucked away the roots and spoiled heads, Hae-won stared vacantly over the wall where there was no sign of anyone. A guilt, as if he had committed an act that should never have been done, warmed the soles of his feet with a tingling sensation. Anxiety over having dared to leave Seo Hae-young behind, the rationalization that this much payback was fair, bewilderment as to why he wasn’t coming to find him, the emptiness of wondering if it was all over forever… He didn’t have the courage to willingly forgive and accept him, yet it felt suffocating now that he was out of sight. He even felt a bit resentful. Because his mood became foul, his hands grew rough as he tore away the smooth stems.

In the end, he brought the basket of messily trimmed bean sprouts to the kitchen. Even seeing the sprouts where perfectly good heads had been chopped off, Gi-tae didn’t nag; he simply separated those to be sent to the pub from those to be used as side dishes. Hae-won lingered nearby, ate a small amount of dinner under supervision, and returned to the main room well before it was time to sleep. It was around 7 PM, after the short-day winter had cast a pitch-black darkness over Anbyeok-ri.

Hae-won, lying wide awake and gnawing on his fingernails, immediately pretended to be asleep the moment Gi-tae slid the door open. As soon as the light hitting his tightly closed eyelids vanished and he heard the sound of footsteps on the porch and the side room door closing, he quietly prepared to leave. He placed two pillows side by side and covered them with a blanket to make it look like a human silhouette at a glance, then opened the door without a sound. After carefully observing the area where the side room was, Hae-won cautiously put on his slippers and crossed the yard.

If Gi-tae found out, this was an action for which a barrage of curses would not be enough, and it was a path he himself couldn’t justify. Every time he decided to give up and go back, a final call circled around his eardrums.

I’m hurting, Hae-won. It hurts. Hae-won. Come to me. I only have you.

A heart-wrenching plea, accompanied by a throbbing in his ankles and wrists, pushed him forward. A light breeze lifted his dragging legs. As he drew closer to the house where he had lived with Seo Hae-young, his heart beat slowly.

As if possessed by a ghost, Hae-won opened the half-open main gate and looked around the house submerged in dim shadows. The house, which had been devoid of people for some time, had turned into a ruined shack after only a few days of neglect. The walls of the building, which always held a warm light around this time, were covered in a pale hue, and basins that had been stacked in the corner were rolling around the yard. As he approached the porch scattered with shards of broken glass, a chilling aura wafted over him.

Unconsciously, his raised fingernails scratched the back of his hand, leaving a wound. Hae-won looked gloomily at the house, frozen exactly as Seo Hae-young had left it in a mess a few days ago, then stepped onto the porch, avoiding the glass shards. Whether it was the main room or the kitchen, there was no light anywhere. The house was so silent that it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say a temporary guest had departed, as not even the sound of insects could be heard. The hand that finally grasped the door handle of the main room trembled violently.

What if he really left? Seeing that he hadn’t barged in immediately, the possibility that he had gone seemed more likely. However, he didn’t want to believe that the look in Seo Hae-young’s eyes that day, the expression he wore, and the inner feelings he had poured out in desperation were lies. Rubbing his stinging eyes, Hae-won took a deep breath and opened the door.

The door opened with the screech of rusty hinges, revealing a pitch-black room. As the chill pooled in the room brushed against his cheek, a shiver ran down his spine. He stepped into the main room, which until recently had been boiling like midsummer but now felt colder than the outside. Despite it not being a particularly large room, he could see nothing. Just as he took a step to find the switch, groping through the air that felt exceptionally dark, as if a black fog had descended, something touched his heel.

“Gasp…!”

Startled, Hae-won reflexively pressed himself against the wall. His gaze dropped quickly to find the sensation that had touched his skin. His eyes, not yet adjusted to the darkness, wandered for a moment before slowly focusing. Hae-won, who had been frozen like ice while looking down at the black shape, collapsed in a flurry of movement the moment the rigidity broke. The hard handle he grabbed as he braced himself against the cool floor flew away in a circular arc, but he had no time to care.

“Hae-young…!”

Groping for the figure submerged in a shadow that seemed to have grown larger, Hae-won hurriedly crawled on his knees and flipped the switch. As the fluorescent light flickered on with a faint sound, a temporary dizziness hit him, and black spots swarmed and blocked his vision. Groaning, he rubbed his eyelids vigorously with both hands, and as his vision cleared, he witnessed a horrifying sight. A very short yet long time passed before his frozen hand reached the man lying there with a pale face, around the shoulder.

“Hae-young, Seo Hae-young… Wake up…”

Tears, which had begun to well up in Hae-won’s eyes, fell in droplets down his cheeks. The hand clutching and shaking the clothes trembled far more than it had when he grasped the door handle.

“Hey… Why, why are you like this…”

Countless wounds were embroidered across the white wrists and forearms, similar to—or perhaps worse than—what he himself had once suffered, but Hae-won couldn’t bring himself to look at the dried bloodstains. The marks, drawn in straight lines and layered one upon another, felt like an attempt to pay the price for a sin, while simultaneously appearing as a terrible shackle. It was a method Seo Hae-young was likely to choose, yet also one that didn’t suit him at all.

“Huu, ugh… Uggh…”

Cold sweat pooled in his palms. Hae-won tried to regain his composure, forcing his suddenly ragged breath into his palms to calm himself. His upper body swayed violently back and forth, and his head felt dizzy. When he softly opened his tightly shut eyes, the dried blood droplets on the floor created a gruesome contrast with the pale skin. It looked as if the floor were completely soaked, or as if a small amount had been rubbed and spread with a palm. At other times, it seemed there were no bloodstains at all; he closed and opened his eyes several times, but he couldn’t see clearly. With no other choice, he leaned down, continuing his gasping breaths. He pressed his ear against the chest, where no rise and fall could be felt.

A few seconds passed, feeling like days. Eventually, the pale cheek twitched, forming an expression that was neither a smile nor a cry. Between the sounds of his own frantic panting, he heard the sound of Seo Hae-young’s heart. He quickly pushed himself up and ran on his unhealed bare feet.

Returning the way he came, Hae-won burst into the main room of Gi-tae’s house and found the first-aid kit where the emergency medicine was kept. The moment he grabbed the handle, the loose latch gave way and the medicine spilled out; he swept it all back in and rushed back to Seo Hae-young without a moment’s delay. He completely forgot that the loud clattering of the items in the box he held might wake Gi-tae.

“Haa, ha…”

Returning to the chilly room in the blink of an eye, Hae-won turned on the boiler, which had been off, and brought a wet towel. His strained legs limped more severely than usual. They tingled as if he had a cramp, but there was no time to massage them. Kneeling on his fading legs, he used the wet towel to wipe away the blood from the wounds.

When he held the cleaned arm up to the light, it didn’t seem necessary to visit the house of the old man living near the docks in the middle of the night. However, the fever was severe. Since Seo Hae-young had rarely been seriously ill since he first met him, Hae-won was bewildered about where to start. After rummaging through the first-aid kit and eventually overturning it, he sobbed as he treated the wounds where the blade had passed. His hands shook violently. Even though it was just applying ointment and slapping on wide bandages, it took longer than a surgical suturing would have.

“Hae-young. Hae-young, please…”

Wiping tears with the back of his hand, he finished the clumsy treatment on the other wrist, but Seo Hae-young did not wake up at all. Far from being pale, his lips were stained bright red from the fever, and the breath leaking from them was hot.

As he carefully wiped the fine face with the wet towel, Hae-won dropped his head, overcome by a surge of patheticness. Truly, both of them were doing all sorts of things. Seo Hae-young and himself.

Swallowing his sobs, Hae-won stood up, clutching his numb legs, and began to roughly clean the messy room when his expression hardened. A small knife, half-slid under the lacquer chest, caught his eye. He snatched the handle irritably and crossed the room. He raised his arm high and swung it down with a sudden force; the knife flew far into the yard and dropped before it could hit the wall. He quickly turned away, determined not to care about it anymore.

He shook out a tray that still had broken glass shards on it and dragged over the crumpled bedding. In his heart, he wanted to lift Seo Hae-young and move him onto the blanket, but that was beyond his strength. Left with no choice, he covered the body with a thick blanket and then organized the spilled first-aid kit. Examining each square medicine box, he found an antipyretic, but unfortunately, it was a pill. Hesitating with the medicine in his hand, Hae-won placed the red medicine box on the tray where Seo Hae-young used to keep his medicine and set a glass of water beside it.

After roughly finishing the room cleaning, he turned off the stark white fluorescent light, stepped onto the porch, and turned on the yellow lamp. As the warm, subtle color dyed the yard and the edges of the room, the aura of a collapsing ruin vanished. Looking for something to do, Hae-won grabbed the broom leaning in the corner and gently swept away the remaining glass on the porch. Even though he swept slowly, there was an end. As he moved to the edge of the porch and swept away even the slightest bit of dust, there was no longer any reason to stay in this house.

No, where was his home? The house where Gi-tae was, or the house where Seo Hae-young was… Neither could easily be called a home to return to. He buried his stinging eyes in his palms. He had cried so much that his nose was stuffed and his head felt dull. Although he had rested all day at Gi-tae’s house, he wanted to rest deeply in a comfortable place. In a familiar embrace that his body knew.

Standing blankly before the stepping stone where a single slipper lay precariously, Hae-won turned around. Entering through the gap of the main room door he had left slightly open, the floor, which was beginning to warm up, thawed his frozen soles.

Sitting beside the straight-lying Seo Hae-young, Hae-won gently stroked back the black hair and touched the white forehead. It was hot. Was he sick because the seawater had been too cold back then? Or was he sick because he had been left behind? Why had he slashed his arms, and why hadn’t he come looking for him even after doing such a thing? Seo Hae-young was made entirely of things he couldn’t understand, making him a far too difficult person for him.

Hae-won turned the hand that had taken the heat from the forehead and wiped the heat pooled on his cheek with the back of his hand. The yellow light coming through the translucent window was not enough to disturb sleep, nor was it so faint that he couldn’t see. The subtle warmth, perfect for falling asleep, made his upper body sway. As his eyelids lowered and he blinked, Hae-won started and withdrew the hand that had been covering Seo Hae-young’s cheek. He didn’t yet have the confidence to face Seo Hae-young and talk.

Just as he was about to rise, thinking he should return quickly, his wrist was grabbed. His shoulders jumped, and he locked eyes with a gaze that was hazy with sleep. He wanted to move, but the strength gripping his wrist was different from usual, so he couldn’t. As his gaze shifted to the hand that held him softly, as if grasping a dream, and then to the ragged bandages beneath it, a dreamy voice reached him.

“…Oh, you came.”

Seo Hae-young, unable to even open his eyes properly, gave a faint, beaming smile. As shallow dimples formed in his cheeks, he rubbed his face against Hae-won’s palm as if delighted. Hae-won, whose hand had been captured, kept one foot poised so he could spring away at any moment. However, as the high bridge of Hae-young’s nose brushed the center of his palm, his poised foot collapsed. He became flustered when the sleek yet soft cheek touched him. It felt so ticklish that he wanted to snap his hand away. Pressing his lips close to Hae-won’s wrist, Seo Hae-young murmured a whisper that seemed as if it might break at any moment.

“I waited. I couldn’t see you…”

Seo Hae-young leaned into the pleasantly cold hand, listing words that Hae-won couldn’t possibly decipher. As he had said, since he had rarely been seriously ill except when he was a child, he could not distinguish between dreams and reality amidst the unfamiliar pain and lethargy.

That night, Seo Hae-young had suffered internal injuries. It was a deep wound. Every time the waves crashed, the sound of rolling pebbles seemed to aggravate the wound; with his vision stained crimson, he laid out dozens of assumptions and then erased dozens more. At the end of a boiling betrayal, he chose the method he hated most.

In a place Hae-won didn’t know, Seo Hae-young waited for a long time. He waited on the pebble beach until dawn broke, and he returned to his ruined house and waited for two days. Repeating to himself several times that just as he couldn’t let go of Yoon Hae-won, Yoon Hae-won wouldn’t be able to abandon him, he did not chase after him. Ignoring the anxiety breathing right beside him, he quietly waited, suppressing the urge to set fire to the house of the man who irritated him at every turn, to throw Yoon Hae-won into a trunk, and to simply flee. Because Yoon Hae-won was kind to the point of appearing foolish, he believed that if he just stayed put, he would return.

However, as two days and two nights passed, he began to grow impatient. He could see nothing and hear nothing. The ticklish voice that had lured him to the sea and the vivid image that had felt within reach vanished. While waiting was arduous, it was manageable; however, not being able to see was unbearable. So, just as Yoon Hae-won had advised, he scarred his own body. Only when he pressed the tip of a knife against himself as if atoning did Hae-won’s silhouette appear faintly in the dark corner of the room. Since he needed even that right now, he endured the absence by conversing slightly with the phantom. It was a fake that disappeared once the pain subsided, but there was no other way.

“Be good… But I can’t see you. I miss you…”

Unable to distinguish whether it was fake or real, Seo Hae-young acted spoiled, kissing Hae-won’s hand. Whether intentional or not, he looked gentle and fragile.

Perhaps because of that, Hae-won, unable to harshly push away Seo Hae-young who was acting ticklishly between his fingers, looked back and forth between the closed door and the wide embrace with a troubled expression.

He had intended to go back. He had to go. But his body, which hadn’t slept properly for several days, kept trying to wiggle back under the covers. Even after the strength in Seo Hae-young’s hand, which had held his wrist for a long time, faded and the grip vanished, his hesitation lingered. The floor, which had become scorching hot as if it had never been cold, melted his strained muscles into a languid state, and Seo Hae-young’s side looked far too comfortable.

What should I do? What do I do?

Conflicted, his eyes darting around, Hae-won stealthily slid under the covers. He slowly lifted the arm of the fast-asleep Seo Hae-young, placed it on the floor, and rested his head on the forearm, which wasn’t entirely comfortable. As he carefully wrapped his arm around the other’s waist, Seo Hae-young, whom he thought was asleep, stirred. Hae-won, freezing in place and gauging the situation, reflexively fell into the wide embrace that pulled him in. Hot skin, flushed with fever, rubbed against him, and their faces came close. Having always been the one to hold Seo Hae-young as he burrowed into his chest, Hae-won, now the one being held, couldn’t easily relax and stared quietly at the long eyelashes. He didn’t seem to have woken up. In the silent space, the sound of regular breathing echoed like a lullaby. It was a tranquility that pressed down his heavy eyelids.

Hae-won let his arms hang, devoid of any strength. Hiding his pathetic inner heart that worried for someone under the excuse that he could sleep deeply here, he closed his eyes. As a deep but not frightening darkness descended, he was sucked into a place without the nightmares that would make him bolt upright in his sleep. It shouldn’t have been more comfortable than Gi-tae’s house, where he wasn’t particularly touched or spoken to, yet the sleep he had failed to achieve poured over him.

After a short but refreshing deep sleep, Hae-won woke up around dawn and slipped out of the bedding. He carefully covered the disheveled blanket again, pulled the tray of medicine a bit closer, and left the house. To avoid being caught by Gi-tae, who woke up at the crack of dawn, he quietly returned to the main room and put his pillow back in place.

After lying under the blanket that had grown cold from being neglected all night for about an hour, Gi-tae opened the door with a simple breakfast and looked into the room. Hae-won, waking up disheveled accordingly, gave an awkward greeting with a nod. Gi-tae, who would normally just say “Uh” and leave the small table, frowned and gestured with his chin.

“Why are your feet black?”

“…What?”

Hae-won, asking back clumsily, only then realized the situation as he looked down at his soles peeking out from the blanket. His soles were literally black. He had worn slippers when returning, but the traces of walking back and forth between houses barefoot remained clearly. While vaguely glossing over the situation, he realized he had left the first-aid kit at that house. It was a disaster upon disaster. After Gi-tae, who stared at his face with suspicious eyes for quite a while, withdrew, Hae-won glanced out at the yard while washing his dirty feet in the bathroom. The wall was still clean.

It seemed he now had a justification to go back to that house. He washed away the screams in his head asking what on earth he was doing with water, excusing it by saying he could just visit secretly while the other was asleep.

And so, that night, Hae-won visited the house where Seo Hae-young was once again. Using the nerves honed like a blade from the events of the past few years, he confirmed that Seo Hae-young was asleep before carefully stepping into the main room. The glass of water on the tray was empty, but the medicine box showed no signs of being opened. He quietly took out the medicine and placed it in a visible spot, and picked up the first-aid kit, but he couldn’t leave immediately.

Hesitating, he set the first-aid kit down and slid under the blanket Seo Hae-young was covering, sharing the same pillow and touching the other’s straight forehead. The fever remained. Slowly lowering his hand and burying his face in Seo Hae-young’s shoulder, Hae-won closed his eyes for a moment, his eyes swollen enough for Gi-tae to reasonably suspect. He hoped he would get well soon, yet he also hoped he would stay sick for a while. Because an awake Seo Hae-young was terrifying, but a sleeping Seo Hae-young was safe.

* * *

Hae-won’s night walks, which he thought would end in two days, continued even after he returned the first-aid kit. On the third day, intending not to go to Seo Hae-young, he had climbed into bed as soon as the sun set. But how could things go as he wished? After tossing and turning all night, Hae-won opened his bloodshot eyes to the sound of the rooster in the backyard and let out a deep, heavy sigh. He simply could not fall asleep at Gi-tae’s house. The homeowner must have noticed that he was coming and going every dawn, but to get even four or five hours of sleep, he had to go to that house. It was an absurd reality.

The whispers of his past self telling him not to forget the past clashed with his current desire for comfort. During the day, while the sun was up, Hae-won wandered within a burdensome sense of dissonance, and at night, he moved wherever his feet led him. In the end, his steps always led him to Seo Hae-young’s side.

On the fourth night, Hae-won placed the tangerines he had brought in his pocket by the bedside and took off his thick coat. He carefully folded the coat in half so as not to make a rustling sound, pushed it nearby, and glanced at the tray to find that the medicine he had left was gone. It seemed he had taken it. Relieved, he lay down using his bent arm as a pillow. Having grown accustomed to the darkness of the room with the lights off, he could faintly make out a human figure. The man, lying with his hands neatly placed on his stomach and staring at the ceiling, breathing steadily, looked at a glance as if he were asleep.

Staring blankly at the profile that was clear even in the darkness, Hae-won propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view. He raised his hand, which had a new bandage, and waved it gently in front of the other’s face. The eyelashes, spread like a fan and covering the plump flesh beneath the eyes, showed no sign of twitching. Was the medicine too strong? Or was he pretending to sleep?

Dropping his arm from the air, Hae-won frowned and looked closely at Seo Hae-young’s face. The cheeks that used to rise beautifully when he smiled seemed a bit thinner than before. His skin, deprived of sunlight, seemed even paler, and even his breath felt as if it had grown frail.

It was a strange sentiment. He had spent years stealing glances at a sleeping Seo Hae-young, but he swore he had never seen him look this fragile. The recent Seo Hae-young and the past Seo Hae-young popped up and vanished like mushrooms after rain. He didn’t know which Seo Hae-young among the many in his memory he had loved. After thinking deeply, Hae-won pushed himself up with his elbow.

Casting a shadow over Seo Hae-young, who was right before him, he tried to recreate the excitement of the past. While anxious that he might wake up or be caught, he lowered his head, recalling the days when he had wanted to touch him even for a moment. A slender breath touched his lips. Closing his eyes, Hae-won pressed his own lips against the red lips. Then, slightly tilting his head, he carefully brushed against the soft outer lips.

Back then, his whole body had trembled, but not now. There was no excitement that tickled his stomach, only an emotion similar to a sticky wetland. It would be easier on his heart if it were simply dry and emotionless. Thoughts that left him wavering between whether to call it liking or hating filled his head.

I shouldn’t do this.

But there’s no one but Seo Hae-young. There’s no one.

What about Gi-tae?

He finds me annoying. Seo Hae-young doesn’t.

The past?

I have to forget it.

What if you can’t?

It can’t be helped.

Still.

Every time his perspective shifted violently, his lips parted and rejoined repeatedly. He opened the soft lips of the other just enough not to wake him, rubbing his lower lip against the tender flesh before slowly pulling away.

Long ago, the secret kisses he stole whenever Seo Hae-young slept sometimes turned persistently perverse. He would brush lips without the other knowing, and occasionally, as if he had lost his mind, he would try pushing his tongue in. He had loved him so much that he wanted to carry away the soundly sleeping Seo Hae-young, who wouldn’t even notice if someone took him; perhaps Seo Hae-young’s heart had been the same.

Brushing his lips one last time, Hae-won harbored the thought that he wanted to turn back time. To the day he left home early to catch a bus with few routes, barely caught the bus as soon as he arrived at the stop, and arrived at Seo Hae-young’s house. To the day he approached Seo Hae-young, who was napping on the sofa, on tiptoe and knelt beneath him. The moment he had waved his hand in front of his face, called his name in a small voice, and carefully kissed him. On that day, Seo Hae-young, as usual, did not wake up, and he was only caught by an unwelcome guest coming down from the second floor, but he decided to change the aftermath. If Seo Hae-young had woken up in a space where only the two of them were. If he hadn’t been surprised or angry, but had simply cupped his cheek and accepted the kiss. How happy would he have been then?

‘Please love me. You can do it. It’s not hard.’

The inner heart he had finally received was close to a curse. It was a persistent curse that kept making him look back even though there was no path but forward.

He didn’t want to think that it was wrong from the beginning. Because that would mean he had loved something strange from the start; he wanted to think that it had gradually changed. That at the turning point that made Seo Hae-young change, there was always himself and the circumstances surrounding him. If this reason, which someone might scoff at as nonsense, was the answer encountered at the end of a long journey, then the days he spent trembling in fear of being abandoned had all been in vain. Regardless of the depth of the emotions they held for each other…

Hae-won let out a trembling breath, regretting the day he had ruined everything with needless greed. If he had just stood far away and watched without greed, what would they look like now, what faces would they have? He couldn’t know other things, but Seo Hae-young would have stayed by his side in some form. The Seo Hae-young of that time was like that.

But now, many things had changed. Just as he had caught dirty emotions from Seo Hae-young, Seo Hae-young had caught nightmares from him. He was afraid of a relationship where they couldn’t exist without each other yet devoured one another. That was why he could offer no comfort, no promise.

As he withdrew the kiss that had left only deep regret after trying to define his emotions, the elbow supporting his body collapsed.

“Hng…!”

“Haa…”

The sound of a held breath being released was heard faintly, and the lips that had slightly parted locked deeply. Trapped by the hand gripping the back of his head and neck, Hae-won collapsed into the embrace of Seo Hae-young, whom he thought was asleep. Through the lips that had opened while he was off guard, a hot tongue pushed in immediately. He tried to push himself up by gripping over Seo Hae-young’s shoulder, but an arm that descended in an instant hugged his waist. In a state where they were pressed tightly from chest to lower body, unable to move an inch, the thick tongue swept the roof of his mouth and entangled with his stiff tongue.

“Hng… ngh…”

Eyes that had opened wide then lost strength, twitching. The skewed focus reflected the black pupils situated between the narrowly open eyelids. He had kissed with the same heart as before, and a different result returned. Hae-won, who had been fabricating a story of the past, was bound for a short time by Seo Hae-young, who showed him the desired moment at the perfect time. His overturned body was flipped, and a hand that gripped the back of his neck strongly to lift his chin bound even his movements.

“Huu, hup…!”

As he turned his head, the lips followed, biting his lower lip to draw blood, and the soft tongue stole the bitter taste. Rough, mingled breaths burst out every time their lips parted. Seo Hae-young, who kissed him hungrily as if he hadn’t been asleep from the start, pressed his knee into Hae-won’s thigh. The grip that tightened when he struggled and the tongue that entered deeper to steal his breath were entirely different from the cozy and soft imagination. Hae-won returned to a brutal reality in an instant.

He pushed the firm shoulders away forcefully and dragged his hips back to the corner of the room. He covered his mouth with his palm, but it was difficult to regulate his forcibly disrupted breathing. Seo Hae-young, who knelt with his feet poised to snatch him at any moment, also had ragged breath. He glared at Seo Hae-young, who was wiping his lips with the back of a white hand, but his shoulders, tense by reflex, shrank passively, contrary to his sharp gaze.

“Haa, hng…”

Swallowing the saliva pooled on his tongue, Hae-won stole a glance with eyes full of wariness at Seo Hae-young, whom he faced properly for the first time in days, and at the door behind him. And the moment Seo Hae-young, who had been waiting quietly, reached out his hand, he bolted. He heard a short, scoffing laugh, but he covered his ears and hurriedly shoved his feet into his slippers. As soon as he felt the presence of someone stepping on the wooden floor, he jumped up and fled.

Not yet. No matter what conclusion was reached, not now. His heart was pounding dangerously.

* * *

The next morning, Hae-won, who had spent the night wide awake, swept the yard slowly, occasionally losing his focus. Because of the nightmares that came whenever he drifted into a light sleep, it had been a long time since he had vomited up his breakfast. He soothed his aching stomach with lukewarm water and picked up the broom, but he made little progress as last night’s events kept coming back to him. It was a relief that Gi-tae had left early; he couldn’t even imagine what kind of look he would have received if the bitten lips had been discovered.

“Haa…”

Actually, if there was a fault, it lay with him for crawling into that house. Seeing that he couldn’t cut ties even after being wronged over and over again, he was beyond a certain level of stupidity. Opening his lips, which stung even at the slightest movement, Hae-won exhaled empty air and swept the last fallen leaves on the lightly soiled yard into one place. While shaking off the leaves stuck to the coarse bristles, a flat box placed neatly on top of the wall suddenly caught his eye.

The hand gripping the long broom flinched. After glancing around for no reason, he quickly approached the wall and picked up the unfamiliar object. On the surface of the brown box, about half the size of a palm, neat chocolates were drawn, indicating the contents.

There was only one person who would leave such a thing. Immediately poking his head over the wall, Hae-won looked around to the sides before dropping his gaze downward. The moment he discovered the neat parting of the man’s hair, who was sitting with his knees bent right below, a stunned exclamation escaped him.

“Oh…”

It wasn’t even a sound so small that it could be missed. It was too late to cover his mouth. Seo Hae-young, who had been chewing on a cigarette filter with his front teeth, abruptly looked up. His eyes, shining a deep brown in the abundant winter sunlight, and his pale cheeks showed no signs of illness. Meeting that upward gaze head-on, Hae-won missed his chance to look away. The filter slipped from between his teeth, and his lips offered a dry greeting.

“Good morning.”

Facing a face devoid of any trace of a smile, Hae-won chose to turn around instead of returning the greeting. Driven by fear, he forgot that this was something Seo Hae-young hated and quickened his pace as if fleeing. He heard the sound of the front gate opening and someone following, but he didn’t bother to look back.

He was scared. He was so afraid of wavering and changing that he couldn’t bring himself to face it and ran away, only for his straight back to collapse forward. It happened in the blink of an eye. Hae-won fell with a loud thud, and for a moment, he couldn’t make sense of his spinning vision.

“Ah…”

His right knee hit the ground, and a sharp, tingling pain shot up his thigh. As he groaned and looked back at his immobile leg, he saw Seo Hae-young’s foot stepping on the heel of his slipper. The foot that had forcibly stopped his stride lifted, and the slipper, with half its instep torn away, rolled across the dirt ground. Hae-won hurriedly turned around and backed away in a manner similar to the previous night to avoid Seo Hae-young, who was approaching him. However, unlike yesterday, Seo Hae-young didn’t stay in the same spot; he took one more step forward and slowly knelt down.

“You left this behind.”

Matching their eye levels, Seo Hae-young showed him the outer garment draped over his arm. It was Gi-tae’s coat. Seeing as he had knocked him down so abruptly, he seemed angry, but seeing as he was returning the clothes without a word, he seemed indifferent. Having forgotten he’d left the coat in his frantic escape, Hae-won reached out with the hand that had been clutching his aching knee. However, what entered his arms was not Gi-tae’s clothes, but Seo Hae-young’s outer garment.

Receiving the thick knit cardigan, Hae-won looked with a strange expression at Seo Hae-young, who carelessly draped Gi-tae’s clothes over a faucet at the nearby outdoor sink. He wanted to ask why he put it there, but his mouth, blocked by terror, wouldn’t open. So, he just hugged the fluffy garment and hoped Seo Hae-young would leave.

He knew he wouldn’t leave easily, but Seo Hae-young maintained a silence, holding his gaze longer than expected. It was awkward to just sit there staring back, and it would look ridiculous to run away, so he couldn’t find a place to look. While he tentatively pulled back his bent leg and gauged the other’s mood, Seo Hae-young spoke.

“The village head stopped by the house earlier. He asked where you went. He even came into our room.”

The person who would be referred to as the village head was Hwang. Hae-won glanced at Seo Hae-young with questioning eyes as he brought up this somewhat random topic in a calm voice. Then, blinking his long eyelashes, Seo Hae-young uttered something bizarre with an unnervingly composed expression.

“He asked where you were since your brother is sick, if you were sleeping… It was a bit annoying. So I told him you’re not my brother, that we fuck. I told him we did it a hell of a lot right where that old man was standing.”

Did I hear that wrong? That was the first impression. He had no choice but to ask back stupidly.

“…What?”

“I said we’re in a sexual relationship. Ah… would it have been better to just say we’re family? Anyway, that’s why your expression is…”

Only then did Hae-won understand the content, and he was horrified. He instantly closed the distance he had worked so hard to maintain, grabbing the man’s arm to cut him off. Seo Hae-young, who let his arm be taken, looked down at the close-approaching Hae-won with an equally indifferent gaze.

“D-did you really say that? Don’t l-lie…”

His stuttering voice trembled mercilessly. He wondered if he could have actually said such a thing, but knowing it was Seo Hae-young, he felt a wave of worry that he very well could have. Seo Hae-young gazed steadily at Hae-won, whose face clearly showed he was thinking of running to Hwang immediately to make excuses, then dropped his gaze to the chocolate Hae-won was stubbornly clutching in his battered hand and muttered calmly.

“It was a joke.”

“…What?”

The answer was so anticlimactic it was infuriating. It was only natural that Hae-won, who had been imagining a future far bleaker than Seo Hae-young’s guess, was left stunned.

“Because you wouldn’t talk to me once.”

Leaving behind a sentence drenched in disappointment, Seo Hae-young dusted off his hands and stood up. Following the rising eye level, Hae-won’s head tilted back. He wanted to demand how he could make such a joke, but this time, his mouth remained shut in sheer absurdity.

As if giving medicine after the poison, Seo Hae-young offered an arm to help him up. Leaning on it to find his balance, Hae-won stood facing a Seo Hae-young whose habitual smile had vanished. It seemed the impression of him being fragile had been a mistake. As soon as Hae-won tried to step back, Seo Hae-young leaned over and brushed the sand off his clothes. He did it so strongly that Hae-won’s legs, barely standing on the yard, wobbled.

The uncharacteristically excessive kindness created an unnatural atmosphere. Clutching the chocolate and the outer garment, Hae-won let himself be guided by the now-lowered Seo Hae-young. It wasn’t so much that he welcomed it as it was that he was bewildered. The trivial prank felt like the old days, yet there was something irritating about it, making it hard to pin down. Seo Hae-young continued speaking in a light, almost sing-song tone, rubbing the area around the knee where there was nothing left to brush off.

“Honestly… you still fucking love me. I know it’s a lie that you said you hate me. You keep wanting to see me, right? So, I’ll try to be patient for a bit. I’ll be waiting and holding back hard in this shitty house, so this time, you come to me first. I can’t wait long. I fucking hate living in someone else’s house… so think about it quickly. I really want to set it on fire.”

Hae-won stared blankly at Seo Hae-young, who had interpreted and concluded everything as he pleased. Not much had changed then or now. If there was one difference, it was that every end of his sentences dripped with irritation, showing he wasn’t in a good mood even while saying he would be patient. Moreover, because his head was bowed, his expression wasn’t visible, making him untrustworthy.

“Got it? Do you understand?”

Finally, as Seo Hae-young straightened his back, the long, deep scar on the edge of his cheek struck Hae-won’s heart. That wound, which refused to heal no matter how many days passed, seemed to represent this relationship. Seo Hae-young adjusted his clothes, which weren’t particularly disheveled, and continued to mutter to himself, though it sounded like he was speaking to the two of them.

“He’ll come anyway.”

Anyway, wherever he goes, whatever he does, no matter what happens, in the end, he definitely will.

On that face, which believed those modifiers would provide a period to the sentence, certainty and anxiety, arrogance and faint regret coexisted.

* * *

He would have understood if Seo Hae-young had mocked or criticized him for his contrasting behavior—sneaking in every night to sleep by his side. Having inadvertently accepted the path Seo Hae-young unilaterally threw at him, Hae-won huddled in the corner of the room and scratched his bruised knee until it bled. It was unconscious self-harm. The deeper his worries grew, the harder he pressed his fingertips.

If limited freedom could be called freedom, then it was. For Hae-won, who had generally followed any suggestion Seo Hae-young made after his father died, it was a somewhat unfamiliar concept. Since he had no one to ask for advice, this decision was entirely his own. At some point, no matter how hard he beat his head—which could no longer make correct judgments or connect cause and effect properly—a satisfying answer would not come.

One day, two days, three days… as the chocolates brought from atop the wall accumulated, his sleeping hours dwindled. In a corner of the wardrobe, a subtle and clumsy hoard piled up, so discreet that Gi-tae, who was busy being called here and there from early morning to prepare for winter, didn’t notice. It seemed all the rare snacks from the tiny corner store had gathered here.

Hae-won rubbed his darkened eyes and closed the wardrobe door. He felt like he wanted to take the medicine Seo Hae-young had been feeding him. As soon as he pushed his feet into the bedding, touching his dull forehead, the tightly closed door of the main room swung open. The person poking their head through the gap was Hwang.

“Oh, did you come to visit?”

Hwang asked cheerfully, his cloudy eyes widening, perhaps having come to look for Gi-tae. It had been quite a while since Hae-won had stayed in this house, whether by choice or force, but it seemed the village elders didn’t know. After hesitating and nodding, Hwang rubbed his cold hands and stepped onto the wooden porch.

“Where’s your Hyung? I haven’t seen you two much lately. It’s cold here, isn’t it? That’s because the sea is right in front! Tsk, it’s almost the end of the year… it’ll probably snow. There wasn’t much last year, but it looks like we’ll get some this year.”

Hwang, who chattered away on his own without needing a conversation partner, clapped his hands and placed a box wrapped in a blue cloth in a visible spot.

“I was thinking of stopping by here on my way. These are dried persimmons; you two can just split them. The house down there dried them themselves.”

“Ah, you don’t have to give us these…”

“Nonsense! That house is so generous that there’s plenty left even after giving some to everyone.”

Judging by Hwang’s attitude—that there was nothing to worry about—it seemed what Seo Hae-young had said was a complete lie. Recalling four or five of Seo Hae-young’s jokes, which had zero humor and only served to make his heart sink, Hae-won gave a bitter smile.

He sat there and listened to the chatter for over an hour—about how last winter was bearable, or how one of the children had been promoted. After Hwang stood up, saying it was already this late, and vanished like the wind, Hae-won glanced at the blue cloth left lonely by the now-quiet door. Even though it had no features, it felt as if it kept speaking to him.

On the same day, in the afternoon before the sun had set. The sound of paper tearing filled the silent room. His fingers, which had been flipping through a book to force his attention elsewhere, moved down, and a torn page fell to the floor. He tore one page and wrote ‘Just take him,’ then tore another and wrote ‘Be patient.’ This action repeated until the already half-destroyed book reached its final page. Finally, reaching the end, Seo Hae-young tore out the option that ended with ‘Be patient’ and threw it where his hand couldn’t reach.

Everything was tedious. Nothing was interesting, and there was nothing to laugh about. He regretted it dozens of times a day.

‘Wait’ my ass. He didn’t know why he should just leave Yoon Hae-won alone when he was within spitting distance, nor why they had to be apart. But at the time, it felt like he had to. Changing his word was something he did as often as eating, so he thought about just grabbing and dragging him back, but every time he left something behind, the chocolates vanished like ghosts, making him turn back. Throwing the shell of a book into the corner, Seo Hae-young slumped his upper body, covered his ears, and glared into the void.

Perhaps because he knew the other was nearby, the hallucinations weren’t very visible. Only that ticklish voice remained, whispering in his ear. At first, he could understand what was being said, but now it was a clamor of all sorts of voices mixed together. The irritating and annoying sounds pierced through his palms even when he covered his ears. Things that he barely heard when he was with Yoon Hae-won now poked at his mood all day long.

Should I drink? Or maybe make more wounds? After agonizing, Seo Hae-young sighed and left the messy space. As soon as he opened the door, kicking away the crumpled paper, a cold wind rushed in.

Holding the doorknob, Seo Hae-young stood still for a moment and looked down. There was one thing he hadn’t seen before. A box wrapped in a very blue cloth was perched diagonally on the porch. The box, caught on the edge, was wobbling precariously as if it had been left in a hurry, and his gaze was drawn upward.

With a certainty that was too much for a coincidence, the bright hair of a person lingering beyond the wall surrounding the yard caught his eye. As soon as he stepped forward instinctively, the back of a head fleeing in haste disappeared around the corner.

Ultimately, Seo Hae-young put his foot back on the porch, pulled the blue cloth toward him, and untied the knot. Plump dried persimmons, which he didn’t even like, were neatly aligned in three rows, but one persimmon that should have been at the very end of the last row was missing. It looked as if someone had carefully pondered and picked just one.

The corners of his pretty lips curled up into a bright smile. For the first time in a long while, Seo Hae-young laughed heartily and meticulously tied the knot of the blue cloth. Intending to open it whenever his mood sank, he placed the box in the most visible spot, his smile not fading. The decision, which had flipped entirely toward ‘waiting,’ brought a pleasant fluttering in his chest.

Seo Hae-young thought Yoon Hae-won was cute. Though, had he ever thought otherwise?

* * *

A dead phone, a TV that wasn’t turned on, and accordingly, the slow crawl of the clock hands. Having let go of his complicated life for an unknown amount of time, Seo Hae-young decided to bury his impatience for a while. He focused on text, piling up books he had obtained from an old man whose only activity was sitting on a porch drinking soju. In truth, it was hardly ‘focusing’; while his eyes were fixed on the pages, his attention was entirely on Hae-won, who was hovering around.

Since he didn’t go to catch him even when he was in sight, Hae-won, who had been lingering beyond the wall for a few days, gradually closed the distance. One day he pushed open the front gate, and another day he sat by the outdoor sink at the edge of the yard. When Seo Hae-young glanced over to see what he was doing, Hae-won was either eating the chocolate left in the morning or burying his head in his knees. Thinking he looked quite bored, Seo Hae-young flipped through the books from the old man’s house and found a comic book missing its later volumes, then flicked it toward him.

He hadn’t specifically intended it, but the flying comic book happened to hit Hae-won right on the head. Startled, Hae-won showed the expression Seo Hae-young loved most and then bolted immediately. Seo Hae-young, who found himself grinning, offered an indirect apology the next day by piling three chocolates on the wall. Fortunately, Yoon Hae-won returned. He would crouch at the far end of the porch to read the comic book, stare blankly at the empty floor, or eat the chocolates. Then he would repeat the cycle of leaving around sunset.

Yoon Hae-won orbited around Seo Hae-young like a satellite. All of this took place carefully, like a game that must not be discovered by others. Two participants. As always, only Seo Hae-young and Yoon Hae-won.

Though there was no conversation, as the days spent spending leisure in the same space increased, the weather grew colder. Finding a dusty electric heater and turning it toward Hae-won, Seo Hae-young leaned his head against the wall and, after about two hours, secretly looked beside him. He saw Hae-won dozing off like a sick chicken, wearing the outer garment he had given him. He was a span closer than yesterday. Even so, it was still a distance where he couldn’t reach him by stretching out his hand.

“Hae-won.”

He called his name for the first time in days, but it seemed the fast-asleep Hae-won didn’t hear. Forgetting that he was supposed to pretend not to notice, Seo Hae-young quietly approached him. He gazed at Hae-won, who was nodding off with his chin resting on his free hand. He had become much more gaunt; he wondered what on earth he was doing when he was alone. Still, his handsome face remained the same. Whether he was aging or not, Hae-won looked unchanged from his high school days, and Seo Hae-young’s hand twitched as he stared.

He wanted to pinch and twist his nose like old times. He wanted to grab his cheek, where the bruise had faded, and shake it hard, and he wanted to kiss him. This was all Yoon Hae-won’s fault.

Yoon Hae-won was the one who first bothered someone who was staying still. He called his name in a strange voice and stared with those brown eyes that made one feel odd. Even now, it was not much different. He felt resentful toward Yoon Hae-won, who circled around him but wouldn’t start a conversation. The speed at which Hae-won approached, bit by bit, was too slow. Was there no way to pull him in faster? Stroking the wrist where the marks of atonement remained clear, Seo Hae-young lifted his head and looked up at the cloud-filled sky. It looked like it would snow soon.

* * *

As he guessed, the first snow fell that night. Around the time Seo Hae-young became busy after checking the calendar, Hae-won, leaning against the frame of the open main room door, looked out at the yard that had turned white in less than three or four hours. Gi-tae had left the house with a shovel, saying they had to clear the path before the snow hardened, leaving the entire house in silence. Hae-won touched his thighs, stained with bruises from being struck and wounds from scratching, and lowered his eyelashes.

He had experienced Seo Hae-young’s terror more than enough. Though he was pretending to be gentle now, there was no guarantee when he might suddenly change.

In truth, the violence he was born with didn’t matter. He was accustomed to being beaten and suppressed; now, he even felt a sense of stability within that coercion. What he feared was Seo Hae-young’s volatility and the self-loathing he had to endure by staying by his side. Seo Hae-young had no clear standards and was impulsive. He was unpredictable and impossible to prepare for. And that ambiguity occasionally stirred up anger and sorrow regarding the past. He feared the finger-pointing of people who wondered why he still chose Seo Hae-young after everything, and the accusations from his past self, who screamed in resentment. But it seemed there was something that overcame that fear.

Even on sleepless nights when he beat and clawed at his own body, boiling over with self-loathing, the distance between him and Seo Hae-young was gradually narrowing. When he told himself not to go tomorrow, he found himself taking another step forward. When he told himself not to forgive him, he found himself stealing glances. Lately, there were even times when he desperately hoped Hae-young would speak to him. Every day was precarious. He wanted to stay in a stable place. He wanted to live as he once did, with only a sliver of autonomy while Seo Hae-young decided everything else. He wanted to live a pathetic life.

Hae-won watched the large clumps of snow falling before closing the door. Today, too, there had been no progress.

The white snow that fell through the night had piled up to his ankles by the time morning arrived. As if there were still more to give, the hazy sky poured down heavy flakes. Gi-tae, who had to clear the snow from every path the elderly used, set aside his torn slippers and placed a single old boot on a stepping stone. When he slid his foot in, it was a bit loose, but it fit well enough. Hae-won gave a bashful greeting to Gi-tae, who looked back with a somewhat dissatisfied expression, and only after an hour or two did he head toward Seo Hae-young.

With every crunching step, footprints were pressed into the crushed snow. His pace was slower than usual. He deliberately slowed down, sometimes placing his foot directly over the prints he had already left behind.

He planned to try talking to him today. Since he was exhausted to the point of death, he figured that if he dozed off by Hae-young’s side for a bit and left a simple greeting before departing, nothing terribly wrong would happen. If he could erase the past three years for just a moment—since he didn’t dislike the way things had recently resembled their relationship before that—he felt he could at least try this much.

“……Eh?”

But nothing went as planned. Having made a great resolution, Hae-won entered the main gate only to face an empty porch. Seo Hae-young, who always sat on the porch reading a book around this time, was nowhere to be seen; only a single electric heater remained, standing solitary.

Hae-won stepped onto the porch, tracing the footprints leading outward in reverse, and fidgeted with his slightly frozen hands. Come to think of it, there had been no chocolate on the wall this morning. The routine he had passed over without suspicion suddenly began to feel strange, and he peeked open the door to the inner room. He wondered if Hae-young might be sleeping, but the room was empty. The neatly folded bedding was arranged on one side of the room, and the phone and car keys that usually rolled around the floor had vanished without a trace.

After standing there in a daze, Hae-won rushed outside and searched everywhere Seo Hae-young might be. He checked the tiny room that served as a warehouse, the kitchen, the narrow bathroom, and even the backyard, but there wasn’t a single strand of Seo Hae-young’s hair to be found. Since he had brought so few belongings to begin with, the disappearance of one person made the house feel as though no one had ever lived there. With his arms hanging limp, Hae-won finally realized that Seo Hae-young had gone somewhere and hurriedly left the yard. He stepped over the slippery stairs and stopped by the grandmother’s house with the blue gate and the convenience store, but everyone shook their heads, saying they hadn’t seen him.

Growing desperate, Hae-won went down to the docks and looked around. He tried to find someone to ask, but perhaps because of the high snow, most people seemed to be spending their time holed up in their homes. Breathing heavily, Hae-won headed toward where Seo Hae-young usually parked his car and ran into the CEO of a pub just as he was sliding the door open. He ran to the CEO, who was chewing gum and shoving his hands in his pockets, and asked for the third time about Seo Hae-young’s whereabouts. As if remembering something, the CEO said, “Oh,” and gestured with his chin toward the road leading to the town center.

“That, uh, what was it. He just left? With a bunch of luggage. I guess he was sleeping?”

“……What?”

“I thought he was leaving for good. Or maybe, is he going to church?”

Hae-won, who was in no state to take a joke as a joke, looked around the docks with a look of utter dismay.

“He… he didn’t say he was leaving…….”

“Why bother saying it when you’re leaving. It was just a moment ago, so go check. Oh, since you’re here, take some side dishes with you……. Hey, kid!”

Hae-won didn’t even hear the CEO’s words as he bolted. His limping leg slowed him down and led him astray, but he pushed himself toward the parking area. He looked for the car parked at the very end, past the trucks meticulously wrapped in tarps, but that spot was as empty as the porch. The tire tracks leading toward the road were headed away from Anbyeok-ri.

“Hng, haa…….”

It felt as if he had been struck on the crown of his head. A brief absence was plausible, but Seo Hae-young was different. No matter how he thought about it, there was absolutely no reason for him to go to the town center. As the urgency hit him, the back of his neck tightened coldly. His staggering legs wobbled forward, following the path of the tire tracks.

As the anxiety he hadn’t fully extinguished broke through, Hae-won faced a tangible terror. That terror was Seo Hae-young’s absence. His bloated emotions prevented him from considering the variables he should have thought about, burying him instead in a festering wound.

For Hae-won, change was always frightening. Seo Hae-young could not be gone, even for a moment. What if he never came back? He must never show his back; he must remain consistent no matter what. Thus, the words etched into his rigid mind were limited.

Just now. Left. For good.

Navigating around obstacles as he exited the parking area, Hae-won spotted Seo Hae-young’s car on the road where a few tire tracks remained. The distance had already grown quite large. He wanted to scream out to him, but the distance was too great, and his voice was swallowed by his ragged breathing. Tears that drenched his eyelashes and cheeks pooled at his chin and fell drop by drop.

With legs that wobbled violently with every step, he chased after the receding car. Because he had pushed himself too hard, he felt a dull ache from his previously broken ankle up to his shin. As he dragged his exhausted legs forward, the car continued to drift further away, and a sob stronger than his breath escaped his lips.

“Hae… Hae-young, don’t go……, Hae-young…….”

There was no one to hear the clumsy confession of his true heart. Hae-won muttered only for him not to go, chasing after him until the very end. But the car did not stop. Just as the car disappeared around a bend in the road bordering the winter sea, the sole of his shoe slipped on the frozen ground covered in a thin layer of snow.

Falling without a chance to protect himself, Hae-won could not get up for a long time. His hair and clothes were soaked in melting snow, and a bone-chilling cold washed over him. The trembling of his entire body was not merely due to the cold. The pit of despair he could not escape pressed down on his back with an unbearable weight. Pessimistic thoughts followed one another, spiraling toward the worst-case scenario.

Left alone, looking as if he had been abandoned in a white field of snow, Hae-won remained motionless as if frozen. He didn’t cry, nor did he think. He simply remained stiff like a stone. It felt as though he would stay that way for the rest of his life if Hwang, who was in the middle of clearing snow, hadn’t found him.

“Why are you lying here!”

Startled, Hwang rushed onto the road and grabbed the shoulder of the motionless Hae-won, quickly pulling his upper body up. As soon as he saw the face, his sternly wrinkled forehead furrowed. Wiping away the bright red, swollen areas around Hae-won’s eyes with the back of his dirty gloved hand, Hwang clicked his tongue.

“Goodness, why are you crying!”

“Hae… Hae-young went, he left…….”

“So what! No, you’ll catch a cold. Get up.”

Amidst the familiar face and the concerned touch, Hae-won burst into the tears he had been holding back. His frozen lips distorted, and the words he managed to squeeze out between gasps were fragmented.

“If he… if he leaves me behind……. Hae-young…….”

“Leave you? Leave what? Hyung? Good grief……, he’ll be back soon! But you can’t just lie here where cars drive. Come on, hurry.”

Hwang, who had been listening quietly, let out a hollow laugh of disbelief. Having seen the single set of tire tracks leading out of the village, he had a rough idea of what happened, but it was hard to understand. Clicking his tongue, Hwang helped Hae-won up and sat him on a nearby bus stop bench. Since he couldn’t exactly yell at a kid who was so young and mentally unstable, he beat his own chest in frustration.

“Goodness……. He’s not even a child. No, even a child wouldn’t be like this!”

“The bus, when does the bus come? I have to go…….”

Hwang gave a loud smack to the back of Hae-won, who was acting frantically, stamping his feet despite not having stopped crying.

“Buses don’t run in this weather! Not one! Just go inside for now. What a strange day this is…….”

Muttering to himself about where that fellow had gone, leaving a kid who wasn’t even well, Hwang firmly gripped the arm of Hae-won, who was trying to stand up as if to walk back. Unfortunately, Gi-tae was nowhere to be seen. Left with no choice, Hwang declared that he would take him home himself and warned him not to even think about coming back out. While grumbling about having to look after a boy who was the age of his own grandchildren, Hwang found a change of clothes and even brought the electric heater into the room.

Told to stay put and that he would tell the Hyung to come straight here upon his return, Hae-won gave a strained nod and wiped away the tears that were likely unsightly. Trapped in the room where only the sound of the electric heater hummed after Hwang left, Hae-won tried to calm down and think rationally, but he trembled within the anxiety that rushed back in an instant.

* * *

After stuffing Hae-won in the room, Hwang returned, picked up the shovel he had thrown down, and spent some time shoveling snow before popping into a house to get a meal. He picked up the shovel again, but perhaps because he had spent so much time chatting, the signs of sunset were already appearing. Only then did he remember Hae-won’s Hyung. With an “Oh, right,” Hwang looked over the parking area and inhaled a dissatisfied breath, knitting his brows.

The car was still not in sight. It had snowed quite a bit, so it wasn’t great weather for driving. Although the snow had stopped for a moment, there were reports that heavy snow would pour down again starting in the evening. Just as he was starting to worry that they might get trapped and unable to move, he saw a car with its headlights on slowly approaching from afar. “There he is!” Hwang ran over and smacked the back of Seo Hae-young, who was stepping out of the car with a nonchalant air, completely unaware of what his younger brother had gone through.

“Where did you go by yourself! How dangerous!”

Caught off guard by the sudden blow to his back, Seo Hae-young looked blankly at Hwang, who was much shorter than him, and greeted him while closing the open door. However, instead of returning the greeting, Hwang grabbed his forearm firmly. Since it wasn’t a particularly welcome contact, Seo Hae-young looked down, and a rapid-fire tone followed.

“That brother of yours has gone absolutely haywire.”

“……Hae-won?”

His lowered head snapped up. He hadn’t been able to tell him because he had left in a hurry, but he had assumed Hae-won would simply stay and wait for his return.

“Yes! That… anyway, I thought he was going to faint. Get home quickly! He was in a total panic looking for you.”

Hwang, who pushed Seo Hae-young’s arm toward the incline, stiffened his mouth with a sour expression, as if recalling Hae-won’s breakdown. Pushed by the old man telling him to hurry, Seo Hae-young’s expression was ambiguous. As he crossed the road with strangely light steps, a loud shout erupted from behind.

“Take him with you! Even if it’s hard, the Hyung has to take care of him…….”

Looking back at Hwang across the road, Seo Hae-young pulled the corner of his mouth and grinned. A scolding followed, asking why on earth he was smiling, but he couldn’t help it. His pace as he climbed the incline gradually quickened.

By the time Seo Hae-young strode up the stairs and reached the gate, Hae-won—who had been bundled up in clothes so he could leave at any moment and was peering outside—bolted out the moment he saw that black crown of hair. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at Seo Hae-young, who entered calmly and closed the gate. Seo Hae-young, who hadn’t met his eyes once during this time, slowly approached Hae-won, who was staring at him as if he wanted to kill him.

“Were you waiting for me?”

It had been so long since he had initiated a conversation; he was full of excitement. As expected, Hae-won didn’t answer, but he didn’t avoid his gaze or run away either. For a start, it wasn’t a bad reaction. As he fully absorbed the gaze that looked as if he were dying of unfairness and sorrow, the corners of his mouth, which he had forced down, twitched upward. His palms itched to see an even stronger reaction. Unable to resist, Seo Hae-young, his eyes curving into a wide smile, held out the things he had been hiding behind his back.

“Happy birthday.”

Hae-won looked at Seo Hae-young with blank eyes, as if he had just heard the comment “The weather is lovely” during a raging storm. He had wanted to ask where he had been, but his throat had tightened, preventing the question; now, hearing something completely unexpected, he was utterly stunned. Even in the face of an expression that demanded an explanation, Seo Hae-young only smiled more brightly. The sunset that had been behind Seo Hae-young when he first announced he would stay here, and the sky that had been dyed in myriad colors, unfolded once more. It was a color that made reality feel like a dream.

From the morning when he had resolved to at least offer a greeting, forgetting what date it was or what day it was, to the afternoon when he had run frantically and chased the receding car, and until just a moment ago when he had fallen to the ground assuming the worst. The disastrous day flashed rapidly before his eyes. As the ruined day cleared from his vision, a cake in a blue box and colorful wrapping paper entered his sight. No words came out. He was simply bewildered and embarrassed that his emotions and his entire day could change so drastically based on whether Seo Hae-young was there or not.

“I went to town, but they didn’t sell much. But I like this one.”

Since Hae-won could neither accept the gift nor pour out his resentment, Seo Hae-young gently shook the gift in his left hand.

“The wrapping paper.”

It was wrapping paper with green and red stripes, evoking a strong Christmas atmosphere. It was similar to what he had always seen, except for the year they hadn’t met, and it was even tackier than the old wrapping paper. In a daze, Hae-won held the gift Seo Hae-young had pressed into his arms and blinked his swollen eyes several times.

“Why that face?”

Tilting his head, Seo Hae-young peered closely into his face. His scarred cheek was rounded, as if he were suppressing a smile. Hae-won shook his head from side to side and took a step back.

“It’s… it’s not my birthday.”

“Right. Christmas. I don’t forget that.”

If Seo Hae-young hadn’t thought to pull along Hae-won’s slow pace, it was a day that might have passed unnoticed. And as he had hoped, or perhaps achieving a result even greater than that, Seo Hae-young leaped right over the line Hae-won had arbitrarily drawn.

He naturally reached out, grasped Hae-won’s limp wrist, and pulled him toward the porch. Not yet understanding, or perhaps just not resisting, Hae-won followed obediently. Seo Hae-young sat him on the porch and placed the cake beside him. He had wandered the town for hours, but he hadn’t found a single gift or cake that he liked. Still, he absolutely loved the wrapping paper. He figured Yoon Hae-won, who was fidgeting with the outside of the package without unwrapping it, felt the same.

He knew the elderly tended to exaggerate, but Seo Hae-young wanted to believe the words “he was in a total panic looking for you.” Seeing the red eyes, it seemed he had indeed cried, and that was why a smirk kept playing on his lips. The urge to drag him into the room was boiling over, but he figured he should endure it for now. Instead, he knelt and scooped up a handful of the piled-up snow.

While Seo Hae-young pressed the snow together to make a fairly large snowball, Hae-won kept his head low, stroking the rustling wrapping paper with his pale fingertips.

It was a color and pattern that had turned a day—which would have been no different from any other, as he had never once eaten seaweed soup—into one of excitement. He remembered the wrapping paper that had made him snap his eyes open every morning and check the front door, and the one that had once brought him terrible terror. For thirteen years, with only one year missing, the unchanging wrapping paper shimmered in his blurred vision.

Just then, a flying snowball struck his forehead and shattered. Suddenly covered in white snow in his bangs, Hae-won slowly raised his head. He saw Seo Hae-young, who had stopped packing a snowball with both hands, laughing heartily. Wondering what was so funny and exciting, Seo Hae-young, his cheeks flushed pink with laughter, threw a small snowball. The snow hit his shoulder and scattered over the wrapping paper.

“You do it too.”

Seo Hae-young looked at the scattering snow and delighted in it like a young child. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Hae-won saw his father in Seo Hae-young. A man whose face he couldn’t even recall because he didn’t possess a single photograph of him suddenly came to mind. A man who swung his fists whenever he drank, and who would steal the wages Hae-won had earned from a hard-won job to buy more alcohol. To be precise, he remembered the days when he was still young and would either fight alongside him or find himself unable to leave the house. Only then did reality snap back into focus.

“Ah…”

A hollow groan escaped him.

There are people who, no matter how hard they struggle or thrash, cannot survive on their own. Hae-won was such a person. He could only live if he revolved around someone else; he could only stand if he had a corner to lean on. That was likely why he couldn’t escape the father who beat him. He was simply not born with the temperament to fight and bring someone down. Born into a disadvantaged environment with a fragile disposition, Hae-won had been unable to let go of his father, and similarly, he could not let go of Seo Hae-young, who had come into his life. He probably never would. To him, Seo Hae-young was family and friend, a loved one and a monster that deserved to die.

“Hurry up.”

Hae-won did not like the word ‘fate.’ It felt too grandiose and seemed to imply that it was inescapable; he preferred ‘inevitability.’ The inevitability—that which must happen and will certainly come to pass—shook the roots of his dizzy mind. Seo Hae-young, who might be that very inevitability, urged him again.

“Hurry, Hae-won.”

Hae-won, who had placed the wrapped gift atop the cake box, approached as if drawn by Seo Hae-young’s waving hand. He scooped up a handful of the fluffy-looking snow to make a round ball, but throwing it wasn’t easy. As he hesitated and gauged the other’s reaction, Seo Hae-young, who had been waiting patiently, suddenly launched a snowball. The snow hit him square in the face and crumbled away.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, Hae-won looked up with gloomy eyes and threw a cold snowball at the smiling Seo Hae-young. After the snow hit his shoulder and fell, Seo Hae-young wore a smile of utmost radiance. It was a smile Hae-won had truly loved. Unable to smile back as he once had, Hae-won threw another handful of snow as if venting his frustration. The snow, thrown without even being formed into a ball, fell over Seo Hae-young’s head like a gentle sprinkle of grainy snow.

Sinking to the ground, Hae-won wiped his wet cheeks with frozen hands and threw whatever snow he could grab. He threw until the spot where he scooped the snow became a round hole, but most of it fell elsewhere without even reaching Seo Hae-young. He was so angry he couldn’t bear it. Hatred and loathing directed inward burned through his gut. He threw snow that couldn’t even cause a scratch, and while throwing, he eventually buried his face in his palms, bent his waist, and let out a painful sob. Not knowing why everything was so difficult and agonizing, endless tears flowed.

Watching Hae-won cry without making a sound, Seo Hae-young brushed back some wet hair, stood up, and approached. When he lowered the hands covering the face and cupped both cheeks to lift them, a miserably distorted expression was revealed. It was a look he had truly never imagined. Seo Hae-young, who had neither the skill nor the interest in comforting a crying Hae-won, asked in a low voice.

“Why are you crying?”

“What… what do you see?”

Seo Hae-young pondered the question Hae-won asked urgently, realized what he was asking, and gently shook the face that fit perfectly in his palms from side to side.

“You.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Can you see it now?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

Seo Hae-young, who had been answering every single question in the relentless barrage, fell silent. That was something he didn’t know himself. Unable to find a particularly appropriate answer, Seo Hae-young grinned and squeezed the cheeks he had been dying to touch for so long.

“I don’t know. I told you I’m not all there.”

Held by those persistent hands, Hae-won gazed blankly at Seo Hae-young, who blurred and cleared repeatedly through the unending tears. The image of a back heading toward a dark sea as if possessed overlapped with the rear of the car he had seen during the day. The despair and anxiety experienced back then took the lead, and all sorts of filthy, cluttered emotions were layered over Seo Hae-young. Each one was a horrific emotion. They were also things too heavy to endure. Hae-won bit his trembling lips and then vomited out the words that surged up.

“I just… I just want to go back. Not here, but your house… Let’s go. Can’t we go? I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be in this place…”

“My house?”

Hae-won nodded vigorously, his head barely moving. This place, Anbyeok-ri, was a bit strange. It drove Seo Hae-young mad and made him feel pity for himself. He had to escape this place that made him feel sorry for Seo Hae-young and eventually made him find him lovely. He felt that if he returned to Seo Hae-young’s house—the place with a basement that could no longer be called a home—his senses would return. So Hae-won begged, please, please. Anywhere was fine; he wanted to cast off this heavy responsibility and self-reproach.

After a long silence, Seo Hae-young gave his answer—”Alright then”—and kissed his flushed eyelids. Hae-won struggled, denying and denying the future that would inevitably arrive. On one hand, he resigned himself to the fact that he would eventually comply with the predetermined sequence, yet he tried to maintain courtesy toward his past self. Even as he opened his lips and grabbed the wrist of Seo Hae-young, who was kissing him carefully and softly as he had always dreamed, he did not forget the past until the end. He made numerous efforts to pity himself, trapped in that bathroom that was already fading. However, the warmth Seo Hae-young lent him was so comfortable it was irresistible. But he knew he shouldn’t let it slide like this. But Seo Hae-young. But, but…

“Let’s go home now.”

Seo Hae-young’s breath against his lips was incomparably warm.

A day that was a grand celebration for some, and a day that had been celebrated by only one person for another. The day waned—a day where, even if other people visited and left for a while, one person had stayed by his side throughout. Snowflakes, which had paused for a moment, began to land one by one atop the colorful wrapping paper. It was the twelfth Christmas they spent together, excluding only one year.

* * *

Hae-won, who had been moving between Gi-tae’s house and Seo Hae-young’s house, settled one of them. On an evening when the whole village had turned pure white, Gi-tae, facing him with a swollen face, didn’t even sigh. He simply stared silently and then turned his back. The attitude of turning away as if there were nothing left to say remained as a wound, but it wasn’t a subject he dared to make excuses for. Hae-won leaned his forehead against the closed door and offered a shameless farewell. That he was grateful and sorry. Naturally, there was no reply. Waiting until his fingers grew cold, Hae-won stepped off the porch with the boots Gi-tae had given him.

There was no such thing as unconditional kindness in this world. Even if one didn’t explicitly desire material things, there was always a wish held deep inside. What Gi-tae wanted was likely independence from Seo Hae-young or to see him healthy. The kindness of others always gave Hae-won an uncomfortable flutter. The sense of debt, feeling as though he had to meet expectations and show the desired image, and the guilt that followed when he couldn’t, often felt heavy. Hae-won, who hadn’t managed a single thing properly, felt that debt and guilt toward Gi-tae, who had closed the door, and moved his reluctant feet.

In the meantime, the snowfall had grown more intense. While watching the snowflakes fly, enveloping the dim light of the streetlamp, he dropped his gaze to find Seo Hae-young, who had been waiting while leaning against the wall, slowly standing up and reaching out his hand. As he slid his frozen fingers into that warm and hideous flesh of the ruined left hand, a force stronger than anything that had ever supported him tightened around his exhausted body.

They had promised to leave, but the heavy snow that whitened Anbyeok-ri every winter tied them down. Until the heavy accumulation of snow melted, they had no choice but to remain hidden in this small, remote village that made people strange.

The last week of the year, from Christmas to New Year’s. During this time, not even the supermarkets, the pubs, the hardware stores, or the elderly’s gambling dens opened. While some gathered in small groups to noisily wrap up the year, others spent their time in silence, not stepping foot outside their homes. Seo Hae-young and Yoon Hae-won declined the kindness of the benevolent elderly and isolated themselves. The front door of the house, where a single yellow light hanging from the porch rafter swayed gently in the winter wind, remained firmly shut during the hiatus period.

The old house, situated in a landscape of ceaseless swirling snow, became even more desolate as midnight passed. A faint tension lingered in the warm room where the temperature had been turned up high. The span of a hand between the two lying face-to-face was an invisible boundary. Seo Hae-young only watched with persistent eyes and did not cross the tacitly divided gap. For just one day, today, Hae-won had the right to narrow that gap. It was okay not to approach, and it didn’t matter if he turned his back. In fact, that was the right thing to do. However, the place called Anbyeok-ri granted him an indulgence.

A tiny village with no outsiders, secrets that didn’t leak, and snowfall that seemed thick enough to bury one’s transgressions—it made him reach out. Hae-won wrapped his arm around the white nape of the neck and pulled him close.

As he kissed Seo Hae-young, who opened his lips for him, the image of Gi-tae turning away coldly was forgotten. As he sat on a firm thigh and pulled up the hem of Seo Hae-young’s clothes, the receding car was forgotten; as he slid his fingers into the tousled hair and kissed him again, the back disappearing beyond the horizon was forgotten. As he was embraced by the hand that entered under his shirt and stroked down his back, the blood that had soaked the small dining table was forgotten. Hae-won forgot the things Seo Hae-young had created by using Seo Hae-young himself, hugging those broad shoulders and clinging with all his might.

Their upper bodies pressed together without a gap, the two embraced and urgently mixed their bodies, devoid of shame. It was neither noble nor romantic. Seo Hae-young was hurried to thrust his body into Hae-won, and Hae-won was hurried to accept Seo Hae-young. Held in strong arms, Hae-won shifted his hips clumsily, bracing himself against the wall with slippery hands, then cradled the back of Seo Hae-young’s head as he buried his face in the nape of the neck and thrust upward. As Seo Hae-young lifted his head as if he had been waiting, Hae-won closed his eyes, mixing their tongues once more. The arms that pulled him in as if to break his waist, the genitals stirring his lower abdomen with a squelching sound, and the thick tongue that seemed to crave even the inside of his mouth cleared his complicated mind. All that remained was the dizziness of being pulled to the very peak and then flung to the bottom, and the pleasure that made his vision flash and his thighs tremble unsightly. There was no regret for the past, nor anxiety for the future. It was a kind of escape, a truce with a fixed term.

That night, the hand that stroked and massaged the thighs and forearms covered in the traces of conflict climbed up the wrist and dug into the palm. It rubbed the hollow center with a thumb and traced the twitching fingers. The hideous hand resting atop the thin, twisted fingers curled, and the two, without knowing who started it, locked their fingers in an unbreakable grip. The long, long night, stripped of all formalities, flowed by, dawn arrived, and even when the dim morning came, it was a knot that would not unravel.