By Zephyria 
The season when thick padding, enough to hide the body, transforms into a thin coat had arrived. As if it had never been cold, the strong winds receded, and warm breezes gradually revealed themselves.
The season, filled with many events, faded away without leaving anything behind. Now, finally, the time had come to put a period on it.
Wearing a bright beige coat that he had impulsively bought a few days ago, he waited for him in front of the office. Perhaps because he had arrived earlier than expected, he couldn’t find him.
He felt strange.
He stood at the crossroads of relief from the pain after having a troublesome tooth extracted and the emptiness of losing a wisdom tooth that had been suffocatingly painful. However, no matter what emotion he felt, the result was the same: it had to be extracted.
“It’s still chilly.”
He muttered to himself. What kind of face should he make to appear composed? The desire to show that he was living better than anyone else was different from the settled dregs. Because that was an immutable truth. Wasn’t it natural to want a dirty ex-boyfriend to cry and regret?
He checked his watch. It was almost time for the appointment. He used to have the ability to find him no matter where he was, but had he lost it now? He couldn’t tell if he hadn’t come or if he could no longer find Kwon Yi-tae.
“…Choi Gyeoul.”
A low voice echoed from behind.
He turned his head and saw him. Only then did he realize that he and Gyeoul had been looking in different directions. If their gazes didn’t meet, they couldn’t find each other. That’s why they could no longer be anything to each other.
“You came.”
“Yeah. I was waiting at the other entrance…”
He had become frail. He had withered away like a child who hadn’t eaten any gruel. The perfectly proportioned body that he had fattened up had collapsed. The muscles he had made. The body he had sculpted!
More anger than when they broke up surged up. He was an essential existence even for the sake of national interest. He felt wronged.
He was at a loss for words. He had been worried about what to say when he met him, but it had all flown away in an instant.
His lips were chapped, as if he hadn’t applied lip balm all winter, and his skin had lost its elasticity. He seemed to have tried to cover it up, but it wasn’t hidden at all.
“You look…”
He stopped talking.
They were no longer anything to each other, so saying such things would be a great discourtesy. He didn’t want to be rude.
The world where spring was coming was bright with yellow light, but only he was a blue winter. A chilling scent, as if frozen solid, brushed past the tip of his nose.
Kwon Yi-tae seemed to have noticed what he was about to say and rubbed his face with both hands, looking awkward. He could hear the rough sound of his hands scraping against his skin. The face that emerged after he removed his hands was subtly red.
“I’ve been a little busy at work lately. There’s no other reason…”
Instead of adding anything, he nodded. It was almost time to meet with the lawyer. He just had to get the notarization and leave without any regrets.
He shouldn’t wonder how his heart, which couldn’t be turned back by anything, had turned back. Now they were in a relationship where they couldn’t even satisfy simple curiosity.
“Okay. Let’s go in. Have you thought about any additional conditions?”
“…Yeah. I think we only need to add one more clause.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t even think about changing the conditions that were only favorable to him. Or maybe the clause he was trying to add this time was so biased that it would overturn everything.
He swallowed the sentences that were about to come out like nagging, telling him not to lose out, and responded with a short answer. It was entirely his life now.
He deliberately sped up his pace. Otherwise, he would move at the same speed as usual out of habit. He didn’t want to remain a kind figure. He had to change the things that were ingrained in his body until everything familiar became unfamiliar.
Effort was surely needed even for a breakup.
“…Are you doing well?”
“Uh-huh, such questions are prohibited. It’s too full of lingering feelings.”
“Sorry.”
Kwon Yi-tae apologized readily. That attitude was very annoying. The cause of the breakup was entirely Kwon Yi-tae’s fault, but that didn’t mean he had to be servile. What did superiority matter in a finished relationship? There was no point in weighing and calculating.
He stopped in front of the elevator. Kwon Yi-tae stood half a step behind. He pressed the button and stared silently at the numbers going down before saying,
“Apologies are also prohibited.”
“Sor…, okay.”
A cold silence lingered. He realized that he was about to apologize again but stopped, but he didn’t add anything. The submissive Kwon Yi-tae was quite unfamiliar.
While the elevator was coming down, he looked around. The lobby was too deserted for a large law firm. There were only a few people coming and going, and no one looked rushed.
Hyeon-seong, this company is going to go bankrupt. Run away. You’re going to become a homeless beggar and end up on the streets.
Before his strange imagination could branch out, the elevator arrived. They didn’t talk anymore. He only looked straight ahead, even when he occasionally felt his gaze.
From the beginning, there was no topic of conversation to have with him while making eye contact. They had no past, no future, and not even a present.
The notarization process was simpler than he thought. Kwon Yi-tae just nodded, saying that all the previous clauses were fine. He quietly looked at Yi-tae like that. He couldn’t read his mind. He didn’t even say what clause he wanted and just said everything was good.
“So, what’s the clause you want to add?”
If he didn’t ask, it might have ended like this. With a surge of emotion, he felt that the contract, which he had written only to his advantage, had to include at least one clause that Kwon Yi-tae wanted. That was the right thing to do.
He pursed his lips and met his eyes. His gaze wavered. He looked like he was about to cry. But there was nothing he could do, and all he had to do was say what he needed.
“…Let’s contact each other if we change our contact information. Just in case we disappear.”
Yi-tae quickly added as if making an excuse. It was a reasonable condition. Really, it was nothing. It was something that should naturally be included in a relationship that was financially connected. He nodded without hesitation. The lawyer quickly wrote it down.
“Then we’ll finish up like this.”
The lawyer got up from his seat and casually informed him that Hyeon-seong would be back from court soon. He thanked him and bowed his head. The lawyer, who had been expressionless throughout, gave a bright smile. Soon, the lawyer left the room, telling them to have a comfortable conversation.
The untouched coffee went cold. The completed contract was lying alone on the desk.
“Kwon Yi-tae.”
“…Yeah.”
“Live well.”
He said it without looking at him until the end. There were times when he hated him, times when he felt lonely because of him, and times when he was happy. It was a relationship that almost ended in resentment, but even so, he wanted him to live well.
He himself knew that it was a word that didn’t need to be said. But he couldn’t bear not to say it. Seeing him broken was more frustrating than he thought. Because he had spent the other person’s most shining moments together.
“…”
“In times like this, you’re supposed to say ‘you too’ out of courtesy.”
“That…”
Kwon Yi-tae’s lips twitched. He waited patiently for his mouth to open. A sudden, loud vibration broke the quiet silence. The words ‘Ian Team leader’ were clearly visible on the screen spinning on the table.
‘Is it urgent? The project ended yesterday. Isn’t it time for him to get on the plane?’
It wasn’t a call to receive in this atmosphere, but it was too distracting. Especially since it was someone related to the company, it was even more distracting. If something happened, he was in a position to rush over immediately.
“You can take the call.”
“Oh, just a moment. Is something wrong?”
Ian’s voice echoed in the quiet space. It was uncomfortable for others to hear the call, but it wasn’t enough to make him jump up and leave.
Gyeoul, are you busy?
“I’m taking care of some personal business, but I have some time to spare.”
I’m at the airport now, but I called to say goodbye before I left. I think I’m going to miss you a lot.
It was Ian, pushing forward as always. Thinking about it, a lot had really happened. Especially the conversation they had in the car coming up from Gangwon-do was still embarrassing. To suddenly ask if he liked him. What was he, a terminal case of delusional disorder?
“I’ll miss Ian a lot too, and Ian’s abilities too.”
The latter seems to be your true feelings. But I’ll think of it as my abilities are part of me.
A low laugh was heard. He made eye contact with Kwon Yi-tae, who was sitting on the sofa across from him.
He wasn’t anything to Ian, but he felt burdened by his voice being heard. He reflexively lowered the volume. He was reaching for the coffee cup, as if he was going to pretend he didn’t know. The coffee he hadn’t even drunk yet.
“Come to Korea again. I’m sure you’re sad that I can’t see you off today.”
Yeah, a lot. How about you come to where I am next time, Gyeoul?
“Do plane tickets grow on trees? You’re talking so casually. There’s no other purpose for me to go there other than Ian.”
Be sure to come. I’ll give you the answer I put off then.
“Oh, really! Don’t tease me.”
Even at his grumbling, Ian spoke kindly. He ended the call with the words that he would see him next time with good news.
How could he not be mistaken with this? The embarrassment of that time kept coming back. What did Ian say to his question back then…?
〈…I’ve never thought about it that way. I’ll think about it. Which conclusion do you want, Gyeoul?〉
Stop.
Those innocent, wide eyes floated up. He sighed. It was a truly terrible memory. The long silence, as if it was the first time he had heard it, was repeated like a nightmare. Was he really crazy back then? Why did he have such a delusion?
He wanted to bang his head on the table. Then the shame that washed over him again would subside a little. If Kwon Yi-tae hadn’t spoken to him, he would have done so.
“…If anything happens, feel free to contact me. I won’t misunderstand. Don’t misunderstand my words either, it’s just that, well, you never know what might happen in life. It’s good to have as many stepping stones as possible. I’m sure you’ll do well on your own, but…”
How could he tell him not to misunderstand while saying those words in that voice and in that tone? Anyone could see that he was full of lingering feelings.
Instead of answering, he suddenly asked a question that came to mind. It would have been a big deal if he had forgotten.
“Kwon Yi-tae, have you ever been contacted by my mom?”