He got in touch with his younger brother on Friday afternoon.
He had just finished work and was stepping out of the office to attend the first meeting of the study group Younghyun had mentioned a few days ago.
Seeing his brother’s name on the caller ID, Giyun ducked into a nearby restroom to take the call, worried his voice would echo down the quiet hallway. Luckily, no one else was inside.
“Hey, Jung-yun.”
— Hyung, did you call me?
“I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Have you eaten?”
— Yeah. I’m at a camp.
“What kind of camp?”
— Leadership, global talent… what was it again? It’s long, I forgot.
“Haha, what is that even.”
— I came with a few kids from my class.
It sounded like he was at a vacation camp for middle schoolers. Was that why he’d been hard to reach lately? The thought put him at ease. And that they’d let him do an outdoor activity from that house.
The household where his brother currently lived… that is, the home of the man their mother had remarried, was not in financial difficulty. If anything, the opposite. The man was a successful restaurateur who ran several large chain restaurants in Seoul.
Their mother had been working at one of his restaurants when she caught his eye. Even with a son in high school, she was not yet forty, and though she did rough work, she hadn’t lost her natural beauty.
She announced the divorce as if she’d been waiting for it. It was after the CSAT was over, but it was obvious that the point when she decided to see the man had come earlier, when she’d grown tired of their father’s incompetence and cheating.
The man fancied her enough to decide on remarriage, but when told she had two children, he openly balked. That issue would have loomed large as they talked marriage.
The result was that Giyun was left out, and only his younger brother, still so young anyone could see he needed care, was allowed to enter the man’s household with their mother.
He had no right to complain that the man was displeased by the existence of the boy. From his perspective, the woman’s children were no different from strangers, and he had no legal obligation to play father. But it was a different matter if that made the boy suffer.
He’d heard the man, widowed several years earlier, had two children even older than Giyun.
Naturally, the boy found both the man and the stepsiblings very hard to deal with. After moving into the man’s home, he called Giyun every day, whimpering that he wanted to live with his brother, not their mother.
Each time, it tore at him. Their financial situation might be better than when the four of them had lived together, but the thought of his brother eating with his eyes on everyone in a strange household was hard to bear.
Still very much a child, he needed the affectionate attention and care of adults. Even if he himself had not grown up with such attention, his brother should.
For a while, his brother chattered about new friends he’d made at school. Perhaps he was glad to be out of the house; his voice was brighter than usual. The fact he was already in middle school felt new and strange. He seemed to be doing well at school, and the corners of Giyun’s mouth lifted.
“Do you have spending money? Need anything?”
— Mm-hm. I’m fine.
“If you need something, tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”
— It’s okay. You don’t have money, hyung…
Blunt and considerate, and therefore all the more cutting. Pushing past the sting, he forced a denial.
“What are you talking about, your hyung’s loaded.”
— “…”
The silence over the phone felt ominous.
“…Not loaded, but I can afford to give you an allowance.”
It’s true. He stressed it again to his brother, who still didn’t answer. He could almost see the skeptical look. But it really was true. These days, while studying, he was even putting a little into savings.
— That’s a relief…
“Right. So…”
— Still, it’s okay.
The refusal was quietly firm. He felt an unnamed pang at a brother who wouldn’t lean on him. At the same time, he despised himself. What a state, that such a young boy had to worry about him.
He alone was enough to be the one who watched and yielded out of habit. He didn’t want his brother to live like that, too. He was still too young to be “mature.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to pay you enough attention.”
— No, don’t say that.
“I’ll pass the exam next year for sure and bring you to live with me.”
Usually, his brother would sing the same refrain ‘please take me with you’, but this time, oddly, there was no answer.
— Oh, right. Mom mentioned you the other day.
“…What did she say?”
— Just that. I think she’s worried about how you’re doing.
His brother said it lightly, but as he heard it, his face stiffened without his knowing.
— You should call Mom sometime, too.
“Uh… okay.”
— Huh? I’ve gotta go. They’re calling us to the auditorium now.
The call ended in a muddle. Middle-schooler Jung-yun seemed busier than he was. Staring hollowly at the disconnected call, he realized they hadn’t even set a time to meet.
Whatever “worries” their mother had voiced about him in front of his brother, they weren’t sincere. The only contact he’d received from her all year had been a brief message early on.
When he replied that nothing was wrong, that was that. If she ever said there was trouble and asked for help, he had no desire to know what she’d say. Better to say there was nothing, no matter what.
The memory of the day his parents announced their divorce in front of him, fresh from taking the CSAT, was still vivid. They said they’d been biding their time before then but had held off only for his sake until he became an adult.
He tried not to sneer at them. It rose to his throat to say they hadn’t delayed for him at all. They’d simply not wanted either of them to be wholly responsible for him.
But instead of venting, he nodded silently. The milk was already spilt, and he too was too worn out to try to turn their hearts back. Maybe, as they said, he had simply grown too big to weep and cling.
What if, though he hadn’t been ready to be independent, he had frankly pleaded and argued: don’t throw me out the moment I’m legally an adult; how can you treat the child you had like a burdensome package?
Would things have been a little better now, or would he have been more deeply wounded and cast out? He couldn’t know. He only knew that at the time, if they had denied his existence even a little more, he might truly have fallen into the abyss.
“…Ah, damn.”
He pressed both hands to his eyes to wipe away the small tears that had leaked out before he knew it. Crying was no use at all. Even less so at work.
He looked in the mirror and cleaned every trace of tears. His eyes had started to redden but hadn’t quite. Maybe because it was a restroom at the end of the hall; thankfully, no one came in while he was there.
Stepping out, he made a point of walking more briskly than before. But he hadn’t gone far when, in front of the elevator, he froze at the sight of an unexpected person.
“Uh, um, hello.”
“Yes.”
At his deep, folding bow, Seungjo gave the slightest nod. After a moment’s hesitation, he came to stand beside him. His mind whirred, calculating whether he was maintaining the proper distance, neither too near nor too far. He worried someone might hear his brain spinning.
He stared holes into the floor indicator, wishing the elevator would just come, but things were not favorable. There were two elevators, and yet today it was unusually hard to catch one. One seemed stuck on the fifth floor, where an office must be moving; the other was crawling up from the underground parking, stopping on every floor. Neither looked ready to shoot to the top floor where he stood.
The silence started to grow uncomfortable. It would’ve been better if at least one more person had been waiting. Should he make light conversation about how slow the elevator was, or should he step away now and take the stairs so as not to disturb the man’s reverie? If the car arrived empty and the two of them had to ride down together, how awkward would that be?
In the end, he neither spoke nor took the stairs. He also knew all this fretting was just his own foolishness at being conscious of Seungjo; unlike him, the man likely had no thoughts nor the slightest regret about the situation.
Gulp.
The sound of him nervously swallowing echoed down the quiet hallway. He startled at his own noise. Did he hear? How embarrassing if he had.
He sneaked a glance to the side, and unexpectedly met his eyes, and reflexively dropped his gaze. Seungjo narrowed his eyes, looking him over as if observing him.
He felt his heart rate shooting up at a speed that put the elevator to shame. How long had he been watching him? So he had heard the swallow. If he asked why he swallowed so loudly, what would he say? Should he apologize again?
But the question he got was a little different from what he expected.
“Why were you crying again?”
“…Sorry?”
His dull echo made the man instantly furrow his brow.
“Do you always fail to understand plain speech, Mr. Eun?”
He understood the words. The content was the problem. He hadn’t bawled, and he’d cleaned up neatly in the restroom. Having it seen through at a glance was not only flustering, it was almost absurd.
And it wasn’t, “Were you crying?” but, “Why were you crying again?”
Not a guess but a “why” that assumed fact.
The “again,” dragging out the black history of the rooftop incident, was a bonus.
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t crying…”
“So my eyes are going bad?”
Enduring the irritated gaze fixed on his eye area, he debated whether to agree or deny. The short barbs he tossed were all hard for him to handle.
“If you’re going to ‘clean up,’ do it properly. You let it show and then deny it with your mouth… where did you learn that?”
“When did I let it show?”
“It’s obvious.”
The organs of the human called Gong Seungjo were not only aesthetically superb; functionally, they seemed to match. Whether sight or smell. He took a cautious step back, afraid he’d sniff something out from him again.
“…I have a younger brother, and I was worried how he’s doing.”
Reluctantly, he let the heavy topic out. It wasn’t the whole truth, but better to end with his brother than to say, “Because I hate my parents,” which is awkward to share.
“Brother?”
“Because of circumstances we live apart. I don’t get to see him often, so I don’t even know if he’s eating properly…”
He spoke earnestly, and yet the man actually grimaced.
“Maybe worry about yourself first.”
“It’s just… he’s a lot younger than me.”
Seungjo looked down at him and snorted like he’d heard something laughable.
“You’re still plenty young, too.”
At last the elevator arrived, the one that had oozed up from the garage. He got in first and pressed both “1” and “B.” Following him in, the boy calmly contradicted him.
“I’m not young.”
At least, old enough for parents to toss without a care. Maybe because he felt stung, he actually talked back for once.
“I’m fully grown. I’m an adult.”
“Saying that makes you sound even more like a kid.”
A response so hard to argue with logically. The mantra he’d rehearsed in his heart was denied all at once, and he was speechless for a moment.
“If you’re so grown, why are you sniveling in public?”
The numbers on the panel ticked down toward 1. In the quietly descending car, his eyes flicked to the dry corners of his eyes again. He rolled his gaze, unsure where to look.
It was just the two of them in a not-small elevator, but because of the man’s build and presence, it felt cramped to him.
“If I had to guess, your brother’s probably doing better than you.”
“…”
“Don’t sit and cry alone like some sad sack over something like that.”
They had already reached the first floor. Even seeing the doors open wide, he didn’t step out.
“What are you doing, not getting off. You’re not going to the parking level.”
After spacing out a second, the crisp correction came. He hesitated and stepped out into the lobby. No sooner had he done so than the doors shut and the elevator headed for the basement without a backward glance. He stared blankly as it sank.
Left alone, he re-ran what had just happened in his head as a cow chews cud. Then he fell into serious thought.
What did he mean by that? Could that have been… comforting me? Comfort… maybe not, honestly. But isn’t it sort of close? Am I taking it too much the way I want…?
Wondering about his intention, the family gloom had already been shunted to the back of his mind. As he fretted over decoding whatever message might be hidden in ordinary words and gestures, his phone rang. It was Younghyun.
“Yeah, hyung.”
“Oh? You’re already out?”
He’d answered, but the voice came from nearby, not the phone. Phone to his ear, Younghyun was walking into the building. As soon as they made eye contact, both hung up at once.
“I called to head over together since you said you were at the office. You’re heading to the study, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go. It’s near here.”
As he started forward, leading the way, the other stopped him. Seeing someone he knew loosened his tongue and out popped a question.
“Hyung, how does my face look right now?”
With a puzzled look, he scanned him from face to face. He looked no different from usual. Since he’d asked, he had to answer, so he said what he’d often thought.
“Handsome? Lend it to me for a day.”
“Not that. Do I look like I’ve been crying?”
“Huh? You cried?”
“No?”
“Then?”
His expression went a little odd. He, who had just answered so firmly, hedged.
“…I was just wondering if I looked like that.”
“You’ve been a little weird lately, you know?”
Heatstroke or something? With a mildly worried face, he gave him a once-over, then, saying they’d be late, set off again. He asked no more and followed quietly.
Only Seungjo noticed the tiny changes in him that others missed. Whether it was that Younghyun had less of an eye than most, or simply that Seungjo’s powers of observation were sharp…
He clenched a fist and pressed it to his chest, trying to calm the rising swell he couldn’t help. He could feel his heart pounding.
The study met at a café not far away. Since it was the first meeting, the aim was to introduce themselves briefly and decide on concrete content and direction.
But a small problem arose. Originally, the four public-administration members were each supposed to bring one trustworthy person, but when they gathered, the total was, astonishingly, fourteen.
Someone who’d heard about it had asked to join and the new person had brought someone else, and so on, and they ended up with more than a soccer team.
A larger group is advantageous if you’re going to rotate “problem-writing duty,” but this was too much.
Too many captains send the ship up the mountain; the signs were already there.
“Fines for every wrong answer on top of tardies and absences? Isn’t that too harsh?”
“What are we doing with the fines? Drinks?”
“True/False is too easy. How about fill-in-the-blank?”
“Writing problems is good, but since we’re gathering anyway, let’s take practice tests together, too.”
“If we’re gathered anyway, should we do Korean as well? Anyone here taking Hwang Jin-ho for Korean?”
“Me, me.”
Even one sentence per person made fourteen. Thankfully or not, two people said it was too many and left. He seriously considered leaving, too. Younghyun rubbed his forehead, saying this study looked doomed.
“It’s our first day, so to get to know each other, how about we go for drinks after?”
Just as they’d finally slogged through and set the course and were wrapping up, someone suggested an after-party. It was the guy who’d been loud throughout the meeting. Probably the same person who’d been the most talkative in the group chat.
He remembered only the profile picture, not the name: a steering wheel with a luxury automaker’s logo, shot extra big.
“Let’s go home.”
“Yeah.”
At the hint, he nodded. What was this, a dating show? Why did people who were going to study need to “get to know each other.”
They say a study group can turn into a “sool-dy” (drinking group) at the drop of a hat. Compared to this, the interview study he’d attended before had been exemplary. Since it’s a group endeavor, the atmosphere inevitably depends on the members.
“Let’s go, everyone. First round’s on me!”
As he gathered his things to leave, the same guy shouted again. A few acquaintances cheered.
His mouth fell open for another reason. Was he planning for a second round, too? Did none of them intend to pass?
“…We need dinner anyway. Should we just take care of it here?”
With a different look from earlier, Younghyun glanced at him. The look of someone seduced. He shook his head.
“You go ahead, hyung. I’ve got things to do.”
“Oh? And I don’t?”
The loud guy somehow overheard and chimed in. Flustered that his words had been broadcast, he felt smothered.
“The youngest must attend. No skipping!”
He picked him out. The youngest…
When they’d introduced themselves, they’d given names and ages; here, too, he was the youngest. So “youngest” wasn’t wrong, but it was an awfully chummy label for people who hadn’t even known each other an hour.
“No, I…”
“Just stay thirty minutes and go. Just this once. How can anyone study all the time? You have to take a break sometimes.”
The man kneaded his shoulder as he coaxed. Eyes turned to him. Flustered, he gave an ambiguous nod. Having achieved his aim, the hand patted his shoulder.
About ten people went to the after-party.
Every bar nearby was full. After several misses, they finally got into some out-of-the-way pub. The headcount made seats hard to find, but on a Friday night every bar in the area was packed.
Here, the “Mecca of test prep,” the only businesses that outnumbered academies, study rooms, and goshiwons were, ironically, establishments of entertainment.
With the high density of test-takers, it was natural. Where vigorous youth gather, other demand follows.
By evening, bars and motels had no vacancies, and pool halls and karaoke needed waiting. PC rooms and arcades were booming 24/7.
Since test-takers were the main customers, prices were cheaper than in other areas. If you decided to give up studying and live wild, there was no better place to play than here. Those with weak will shouldn’t even come.
They say civil-service exam competition is brutal, but half of that is people failing a single subject. Many work fiercely hard, but there are plenty of “ghost numbers,” too. He’d even heard of people who came here “on study pilgrimage” and then just idled away their time.
And he finally met one of those ghost numbers in the flesh.
“Nice to meet you all. Let’s do well with this study!”
The man leading the drinks was Nam Chang-gon who raised his glass and hollered. He was a fourth-year public-exam drifter. He hadn’t said it outright, but that’s what you got when you put his talk together.
He made being a public-exam student his “job.” He paid expensive academy fees like clockwork, but instead of attending class, he roamed the nightlife district daily, reveling in “freedom.”
For someone who loved to play, neutralizing primal urges and doing nothing but study was an impossible mission.
He seemed, likely, not too bright, and more importantly, not desperate. The kind of person who might still bear only the label of exam student next year, the year after, maybe ten years on.
Still, he wasn’t gloomy or cowed. Because his family had money. His parents lived in Seoul, too, and had even gotten him a small apartment near here so he could “study more comfortably.”
Indeed, being such an easy-going drifter wasn’t for just anyone. You needed wealth to back your mentality; much harder than becoming a civil servant.
“If he wants to do that, why not say he’s prepping for the high civil-service exam? Why 9th grade? He’s not passing either way.”
Barely audible, Younghyun muttered as they listened to Chang-gon brag and moan. Only he, right next to him, heard and smirked. It wasn’t really funny.
If it were me, I’d study hard.
More than that, he envied a fate with so few cares. And parents who trusted and supported their child absolutely. He took a sip of soju. It was still bitter.
True to his years moldering here, Chang-gon had a hobby of ranking famous lecturers to his taste. Being wholly his personal view, it had zero credibility.
“I took Gong Seungjo’s in-person lecture this time, and there were so many people it was suffocating.”
At his mention of Seungjo amid the blather, his ears pricked up. It was irresistible.
“I thought you weren’t going to; so how was it?”
“I don’t really get the fuss. Nothing special, I guess. He keeps time like a razor? Oh, but you know what’s funny?”
What, what. He answered in his head, palms sweating though it wasn’t about him.
“Most of the front row are women. Hilarious, right? It’s not like they’re there to gawk at a celebrity.”
“Right. And even though Gong hardly cracks jokes, they laugh every chance they get? I just don’t get it.”
With another friend chiming in, his voice got bolder.
“Right? And I think Gong’s aware of it all. He even lowers his voice a notch on purpose, you know? Shows up in a suit every time, when it’s hot as hell. Managing his image?”
“You gotta manage it. Looks stat, build stat, voice stat. He got to #1 on those three.”
They pretended to be objective, but it was more and more blatant belittling. Listening, his face hardened. Beside him, even Younghyun frowned.
“Becoming #1 is so easy, right? Or is it super hard? Anyway, no wonder Shin Woo-min’s throwing a fit. Think about it. He was #1 for so long…”
“That’s not how it is.”
Without meaning to, he cut in. Sharper than he’d ever sounded.
“His lectures aren’t just the most attended. They’re known for high completion rates. If the lectures were mediocre, wouldn’t people stop early and ask for refunds? They’re not fools, and who would take a teacher without skill just for looks? Saying that is an insult to the students who work hard, too.”
Dragging in bits he’d picked up around the office and TA room, he rebutted point by point. Eyes widened all around, Chang-gon’s and the others’. The quiet “youngest,” who’d sat in the corner politely emptying the appetizer plate, had suddenly transformed into a silver tongue.
“And he doesn’t wear a suit every day. He comes without a tie sometimes. Last Friday he wore just a black shirt on top.”
That day, when he lightly rolled up his sleeves, the class had gone wild.
“Look at those veins, isn’t this insane.”
Whispers had reached even him. If he truly wanted to draw attention with his looks, a tight tank would be far more effective than a suit that covered everything. Not that he’d ever wear such a thing.
“And his voice isn’t lower on purpose, that’s his natural register. If he’s angry… it goes lower than that.”
His confident tone faltered slightly at the end. He remembered the man frowning and dropping his voice whenever he was being dense.
“…”
A busy silence settled on the table. Everyone looked flustered. Only then did he realize he’d smashed the merry, chattering mood. He felt a little afraid of what the rebuked might snap back.
He didn’t regret it, though. He hated seeing the man, just because he was famous, treated as some trivial snack at a drinking table. Or having baseless rumors spread about him.
He’d had more to say but held it. If they knew how ruthlessly he lived, they wouldn’t say he’d just “been handed” #1. He was the sort who forbade employees to pull all-nighters, but kept a cot in his own office for all-nighters. A relentless worker who came in before 4 a.m.
“…He’s right. You shouldn’t say it like that,” said Younghyun, who had been as dumbstruck as the rest, coming to his senses and taking his side.
“Yeah? Guess I didn’t know. Weren’t you two TAs?”
“…Yes. We’re TAs.”
“Wow, he must treat you real well. Lots of TAs hate their own lecturers.”
He’d expected a tantrum, but the man reacted more loosely, as if admitting his carelessness or just smoothing things over. Seeing that, he too answered without edge; others followed with light remarks.
“You shouldn’t say that in front of a TA. That’s on you.”
“Yeah, my mouth ran off.”
“It’s all for laughs anyway. For test-takers, the only faces we see every day are the lecturers. We weren’t being serious.”
“Right. Honestly, it’s envy. Does Gong pull in a hundred billion a year?”
“I’ve heard it’s way more. He’s big in the CSAT world, too. Ugh, I don’t want to be a civil servant. I want to be Gong’s dog. I’d guard the house so well!”
“Does he have a dog?”
“No idea.”
“Speaking of dogs, wanna see mine?”
“What the… so cute!”
A big group had its perks. With many people each saying what they wanted, the topic quickly moved on. Quiet again, he sipped. Younghyun gave him a thumbs-up, nodding, Well done.
The drinks had warmed up. Even he, who’d focused on the food, was getting full. He figured he could slip out now. Even if you counted it as a long dinner, anything more would be a waste of time.
Though he’d said he hated after-parties, Younghyun had somehow relocated and gotten deep into conversation with the person beside him. He murmured a small excuse to those around him and slipped out alone. Thankfully, the exit was smooth; the loud guy who’d insisted he come wasn’t in sight.
“Where you going, Giyun?”
He’d barely made it down the alley at a quick trot when a voice called him. A figure stood ahead.
Chang-gon was smoking there. No wonder he hadn’t been visible inside. He gave him a brief nod.
“I’m heading home.”
“Yeah? Come here a sec.”
Grinding the butt under his shoe, he stopped him. He was in a hurry… He halted, standing awkwardly nearby. The smoke made him queasy, but he didn’t show it.
“You smoke?”
“No.”
“Wanna try? I’ll teach you.”
“No.”
Out of nowhere, the image of Seungjo smoking on the rooftop at night floated up. He’d even thought, by the light of the lighter, that he wanted to see him up close. After that, he’d considered trying it himself, but he’d had no money, so he’d dropped it.
He sighed. More and more lately, the man popped into his head even in situations that had nothing to do with him. He desperately wanted to stop, but it wasn’t something you could do by wanting. The more he suppressed it, the more he thought about him. Like when you’re told not to think of an elephant.
He was half resigned now.
“Why the sigh?”
“No reason…”
He stared at him for a beat and then switched topics.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Ah… yes. Thanks for the food.”
“Right. You did eat well.”
He laughed big, like it was funny, but he stood blankly, not getting the joke. With smiling eyes, the man looked him over, not subtly.
“Since you eat so well, I feel like treating you again.”
“I’m fine. I’ll be going…”
“What’s with all the honorifics? Drop it; call me hyung.”
“I’d rather… ease into it.”
He thought he’d heard twenty-eight. He’d learned manners too well to casually drop honorifics with someone seven years older. Above all, he didn’t want to get closer. If not for the study group, they’d have no reason to see each other again.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Giyun?”
Apparently, he didn’t think like he did; he kept talking, even asking personal questions. He sighed inwardly and answered.
“No.”
“How come not? Bet you’re popular.”
“I don’t know… I just don’t.”
He gave an awkward smile. He wanted to go home but couldn’t say it outright; he adjusted his bag strap as a hint. Either he had no eyes, or no sense, so he ignored it.
“Never had a girlfriend, not even once?”
“No, I haven’t…”
To his grudging answer, the man tossed a random question.
“Then did you have a boyfriend?”
“Sorry?”
His body went taut. A shrill voice popped out. Flustered, he couldn’t control his face. What on earth was this person saying?
“I’m joking. Why are you so shocked?”
His eyes gleamed. Some “joke”; he looked like he’d found prey. At that point, it was impossible to regain his composure.
Did he catch that I like the teacher?
His mind tripped there in a flash. He regretted what he’d said earlier. He’d run his mouth too much.
He doesn’t wear a suit every day. Sometimes no tie. Last Friday he wore a black shirt on top.
What was he, a pervert stalker? Why would a TA remember his lecturer’s outfit from last week in such detail? He must’ve seemed suspicious.
Big mouth. He should’ve stayed still. It’s not like a few strangers mouthing off here would actually mar the man’s dignity. Or dilute his specialness…
“But you’re really flustered. Don’t tell me… you really swing that way?”
“No, I… no. I…!”
He shook his head viciously. He had no brain left to calculate how excessive denial would look.
“Aw, man. You’re seriously cute.”
He just kept grinning. The more he did, the more the boy floundered. His hands and feet trembled; his head was a jumble. He’d never been in anything like this.
How much does he know? Is he doing this to spread rumors? What if the teacher suffers because of me? What does he want? His folks have money… I have nothing. How could I placate him? Should I kneel here and beg? If that would solve it, I’d do it right now…
Anxiety flooded him, and his face went pale. Brightly, the man said,
“It’s okay. I’m that way, too.”
“What…?”
“I was just testing the waters. Turns out you really are. That’s wild.”
His strength left him. He’d been a guilty thief spooking himself. Even if he said no now, the man already seemed certain he was gay.
So without knowing anything, he’d pretended to know and poked. And he’d naively taken the bait…
Indignation rose late. He wasn’t a fish to try sticking a hook in. Should he slap a cupping glass on his smirking cheeks? Whether he was gay or homophobic, he didn’t care. What did that have to do with him?
“…”
He glared at him, aggrieved, but the man seemed not to care. Instead, he started another line of nonsense.
“If you’re okay with it, want to go out with me?”
“Excuse me?”
He was dumbfounded. Flustered in a different sense. So the reason for the sudden question about a boyfriend was not that he’d guessed his heart, nor to torment him. It was just that…
“I really like you.”
“…”
“I don’t usually say this on first meetings. This is a first. Love at first sight, I guess?”
It was the first time he’d had a direct confession from a man. Seeing his troubled face, the man asked another question.
“Do you like someone right now?”
He averted his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t be found out.
“Not that, but… I have to study. I don’t have time to see anyone.”
“You can study together. I’ll give you materials.”
He had no idea what gave a man who’d been not-studying for years, though spoon-fed with a gold ladle, the confidence to say that. If he studied with him, he’d be on the long-term path too. Not that even as a top scorer would he want to study with him.
“I’m sorry. I…”
“Ah, my bad. I overdid it.”
Before he could finish declining, the man shifted.
“First time in my life meeting my ideal type at first sight—got ahead of myself. I mean, let’s just get to know each other.”
He was skilled at “hit and fade.” He’d meant to decline neatly and leave, but now he was stuck, fingers fidgeting.
“We’ve got plenty of time. We can take it slow, person to person. Right?”
“…Yeah, well…”
Instead of an outright no, he let it trail off. The truth was, a ridiculous thought had flashed through his mind earlier and disappeared, and he felt a flicker of guilt toward the man because of it.
At the moment of the man’s pass, he’d had the impulse to use him. They say you get over a person with another person; maybe, if he dated someone who liked him, he could put away his feelings for Seungjo. Which was to say, he was thinking about him that much.
These days, every time he faced the man, he felt like he was inching along a tightrope. More and more, he failed to hide his heart. He constantly feared the man might sense it.
This was someone who even avoided hiring female TAs to avoid weird rumors; if talk spread that a male TA liked him, what would his reaction be? Just imagining it was frightening.
He hoped the gaze with which the man looked at him would be, at minimum, no more than pity or compassion. He wanted to avoid disgust. His survival strategy had always been to shake off hurt and abandonment and adapt to a new life no matter what, but if the man sensed his heart and grew wary of him, he felt that this time, it would take him a long time to recover.
But could he meet someone else for such calculating reasons? He doubted it. He wasn’t in a position to date anyone anyway, and above all… there was no way he could like this man. He didn’t need to ponder to know that.
He repented of having entertained, even briefly, the rotten thought of using the person in front of him. Loud and careless as he was, he wasn’t a bad person; he didn’t deserve to have his feelings used just because he’d shown interest.
He’d stayed too long already. He forced the corners of his mouth up to end things well.
“It’s late, so I’ll get going.”
“Okay. See you next time.”
With that, he grabbed his hand. He jumped back, startled, but the man seized the moment and kneaded his hand like clay.
“Ah… your skin is really soft, Giyun.”
At the one-sided, unpleasant touch, gooseflesh ran up his arm.
What is he doing? He yanked his hand free, and the man smirked.
“It was a goodbye. A goodbye.”
“Right…”
With a stiff face, he managed to answer and turned his back. He ran, without looking back, all the way to the subway. He didn’t know whether he was a good person or a bad one. He just felt deeply, indefinably off.
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