By Zephyria 
Haon blinked, slightly flustered by the sudden change in topic. He hadn’t expected at all that he would be asked about his mother.
“You said you came here because your mother lives in Seoul. I was just wondering why you don’t live with her.”
In-ho poured a bit more alcohol into Haon’s glass, which had quickly emptied.
“If it’s uncomfortable to talk about, you don’t have to.”
“No, …it’s not that.”
Haon moistened his throat with the sweet wine and wiped his damp lips. His eyes wandered momentarily in the air, as if organizing his answer inside.
“I was separated from my mother when I was very young.”
After a long deliberation, his voice was calm. In-ho nodded, his expression unchanging as if he had already expected this.
“She said she’d come back after three years, but she was too busy to come.”
The quiet voice continued slowly.
Haon wore a meaningless smile on his bruised lips and took another sip of the drink. He kept reaching for the glass because he liked the sweetness spreading in his mouth.
“She left me her address and told me to visit whenever I missed her.”
As he spoke slowly, he caressed the round wine glass, closing and opening his eyes slowly. Pink stains added to his cheeks, which were already flushed from the alcohol.
Recalling the note his mother had left, Haon drew a small square with his finger. He didn’t explain what it was; he simply traced the shape in the air.
“Then why didn’t you go find her?”
In-ho continued the conversation on behalf of Haon, who had fallen silent for a moment. His gaze was fixed on Haon’s long eyelashes, which were slowly fluttering up and down.
“I thought she’d be busy.”
The gentle eyes, staring vacantly at the wine glass, shook slightly.
“I’ll go see her before I go back.”
Muttering into the glass, Haon downed the drink. He had intended to have only one glass, but he had already finished half of another.
“This is delicious.”
Unable to ask for more, he touched the empty glass and glanced at In-ho. As he licked his lips and looked back and forth between the wine bottle and the man, In-ho, wearing a smile, poured him a bit more.
“Now it’s Haon’s turn again. Ask me anything you’re curious about.”
Given the chance to ask a question, Haon’s eyes lit up. Saying “Just a moment,” he straightened his posture and seriously picked a question. He had so many things he wanted to ask that it was hard to narrow it down to just one.
“What kind of food do you like?”
To think that the question resulting from such long deliberation was merely about food preferences. Covering his mouth, In-ho couldn’t hold back his laughter and bowed his head deeply.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.”
Haon looked at In-ho, who was laughing loudly while covering his face, with a bewildered expression, but he followed suit and laughed.
It was the first time he had seen him laugh like that. Having only seen him with a calm smile, it was fascinating to see his shoulders shaking with laughter. It felt like watching a doll that moved like a human.
“Hmm, me. Food I like.”
In-ho crossed his arms, pretending to think carefully about what it might be. At the sight of his eyes, softened by laughter, Haon’s heart thumped again, announcing its presence.
“That’s a tough one. It changes depending on the time.”
A bland answer returned, suggesting that he didn’t have any particularly favorite foods either.
In the midst of that, Haon was happy to find a commonality with In-ho. Haon also didn’t have any specific food preferences. If he had to pick, it would be things that were sweet or easy to digest.
“But there is definitely something I dislike. Things that are sweet but taste bad.”
Ah… so he doesn’t like sweet things. Haon worked hard to etch this new piece of information into his mind.
“Now it’s my turn to ask, right?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Uncrossing his arms, In-ho lightly brushed his cheek with his long index finger. Because even a meaningless gesture looked excessively cool, Haon cautioned his racing heart. He was seriously worried that In-ho might be able to hear the sound of his heartbeat.
“When did you first drink alcohol, Haon?”
Relieved that it was an easy question to answer, Haon spoke immediately.
“When I was nineteen.”
He explained by making the number with his fingers. His face, smiling brightly for no reason, was flushed with intoxication.
“Ah, I drank it a few days before I became an adult.”
Since he had technically drunk while still a student, he added the excuse, fearing In-ho might think poorly of him.
“Was that the first time you drank, with that close older brother?”
“Yes, that’s right!”
On Haon’s nineteenth birthday, Seong-gu had bought plenty of beer and makgeolli, saying he could drink now. He had heard that after he passed out from one glass of makgeolli mixed with plenty of cider, his grandmother and Seong-gu had spent the whole night drinking the rest.
“I drank with my grandmother and Seong-gu on my birthday.”
“That must have been your last birthday party as a teenager.”
“It wasn’t really a party, but…”
Even as he said that, Haon nodded as if he were shy. A great happiness spread across his clear, smiling face. It had been a long time since he smiled while thinking of his grandmother, so he felt good.
“When was your birthday, Haon?”
Tilting his head, In-ho continued the question, saying he had seen it when they wrote the contract but had forgotten.
While thinking to himself that it was his turn to ask, Haon answered diligently.
“December 15th.”
“Exactly three months from now.”
As In-ho said, Haon’s birthday was three months away. It was a time when the year was winding down and the year-end atmosphere was in full bloom. A season where some find warmth, while others must endure a piercing cold.
“You were born in the cold.”
Sitting in a languid posture, In-ho lightly took a sip of his drink. Since he didn’t continue with more questions, Haon, thinking it was now his turn, asked softly.
“When is yours…?”
At the awkward question, In-ho tilted his head.
“What is?”
“Your birthday, when is it?”
“Whose birthday?”
Even though In-ho understood perfectly, he rested his chin on his hand with a curious look.
Thinking that he truly hadn’t understood, Haon looked troubled and fiddled with his chapped lips. Why was it so hard to just say a name?
“I wonder whose birthday is being asked. I have no idea.”
Muttering as if teasing Haon, he rolled his lightened glass. After repeatedly touching his lips and forehead, Haon finally spoke after hesitating. And very timidly.
“In-ho… your birthday.”
“Ah, mine?”
With a full smile on his lips, In-ho pointed to his chest and laughed. The sly smile was full of playfulness. It was the first day he had been called by his name by Haon.
“May 1st.”
“May 1st.”
Haon repeated his answer, engraving the date in his mind. To make sure he didn’t forget, he pressed his thumb down and spoke with a clear smile, thinking it was a season that suited him very well.
“You were born when it’s warm.”
Despite it being a mundane observation, In-ho’s eyes widened slightly. As if he were realizing that fact for the first time.
Haon, whose attention was stolen by the alcohol, failed to notice his expression.
While Haon sipped his drink sparingly, In-ho watched him in silence. Soon, meeting his eyes, Haon gripped the wine glass he had been tilting endlessly and leaned his upper body toward him.
“It’s, it’s your turn, In-ho.”
Calling him by his name directly was very awkward. He felt he would need to call him more often to get used to it.
“It’s In-ho’s turn to ask a question.”
So he deliberately said it once more.
“I already did, so this time, In-ho do it.”
Even though he had said it three times, In-ho’s mouth did not open. He simply watched Haon with a round smile.
Just ask any question quickly. Otherwise… I’ll keep calling your name.
“I’d love it if you kept calling me.”
With a chuckle, In-ho answered as if he had ghost-read Haon’s inner thoughts. Startled, Haon instinctively covered his chest.
How did he read my mind?
“I know. It’s mysterious, isn’t it?”
Haon’s eyes widened, and he gasped. Unaware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud, he marveled at In-ho’s mysterious ability.
In-ho enjoyed watching Haon’s drunken antics before taking the empty wine glass and standing up.
“Now, the last question.”
He approached Haon and placed his hand on the cheek stained with wounds.
Flustered by In-ho’s action of touching his cheek, Haon just blinked silently. As the heat rose even further in his already flushed face, he couldn’t think of anything. He was simply happy.
“Yes?”
He asked back because he hadn’t heard In-ho’s question while he was grinning. He had certainly heard the sound, but he forgot the content the moment he heard it. Was this why people said alcohol was scary?
“I’m sorry…. I didn’t hear you.”
He looked up at In-ho, asking him to repeat it.
Worry clouded the brown eyes that were instinctively checking for a reaction. He was anxious that In-ho might think he wasn’t focusing on the conversation. He was worried that he might have offended him.
“I’m not offended.”
Whispering lowly, In-ho cupped Haon’s round forehead instead of his swollen cheek. Touching the forehead slowly as if checking for a fever, he leaned his upper body down to meet Haon’s eye level. And he asked again.
“Have you been hit like this before?”
Holding his breath at In-ho’s close face, Haon slowly nodded. Then, seeing the smile vanish from In-ho’s expression, he hurriedly shook his head.