Seonwook sat on the comfortable lobby sofa, took a juice from the box, and leisurely drank it while imagining Director Hwang sitting in front of the large window upstairs.
Just thinking that they were in the same building, ideas for poems began to surface one by one.
The aloe juice was lukewarm and sweet. Seonwook shook out the last bits of aloe pulp, drained it completely, and organized his thoughts before taking out his notebook and pencil.
***
Hwang-sil!
You keep making the honeybee dizzy
Shy flower!
The honeybee, desperate for honey,
Calms its heart with aloe juice
The honeybee’s cock, momentarily soothed
Aloe has a calming effect, you know
It calms even the most aroused cock
But the honeybee
Doesn’t want to be soothed every week
Hwang-sil!
My dear Hwang-sil!
***
Seonwook, who had scribbled it down in one go, looked at the page with a satisfied expression. He tore out the page and went to the front desk.
“Can you give this to Director Hwang when he returns? Hwang Cheolmin, the director.”
The staff member, who was about to take the paper, hesitated for a moment.
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, I forgot the director’s full name… I’m sorry, I have so many clients to run errands for, and there are three people with the surname Hwang, so I get confused. What was it again, Hwang…?”
Seonwook put on an innocent smile and scratched the back of his head.
“Director Hwang Mujae.”
“Ah, right! Director Hwang Mujae!”
Seonwook pretended to correct something on the paper and folded it again.
“I almost messed up. Hwang Cheolmin is in Gangneung, not here. Thanks.”
Seonwook smiled at the staff and handed over the paper again.
“Just give this to our Director Hwang Mujae. He’ll know it’s from Kim Seonwook.”
“Yes, I’ll pass it along.”
Seonwook left the hotel with an even more satisfied expression, skated back to the inn, and slept soundly.
***
On the third Thursday he visited, Seonwook finally got to go up to Mujae’s room. Delighted, Seonwook skated from the elevator all the way to Mujae’s room.
“Hwang-sil, long time no see?”
Seonwook grinned as he saw Mujae opening the door.
Mujae silently turned and walked toward the desk.
“Do you remember? You pushed this to me.”
Seonwook held up his skateboard and asked.
“Leave that by the door and come in.”
Mujae, sitting at the desk, pointed to the door.
Seonwook leaned his board against the wall by the entrance and went inside.
“Back then, I named it Gikkal. Call me Gikkal instead. But you remember my name, right?”
“What’s this?”
Mujae pushed a piece of paper on the desk toward Seonwook with his index finger.
Seonwook went to the desk and looked at the paper. It was the poem he had left last week.
“Isn’t it great?”
Mujae looked at Seonwook with a face full of displeasure.
“You made me waste two weeks of my golden time running in circles. Of course, compared to my precious time, your time is worthless, so I’m not complaining about wasting your time. The problem is this…”
Seonwook placed the juice gift set box he had been carrying for three weeks on the desk.
“I bought this to give to Hwang-sil, but since last week, I’ve been carrying it around, giving some to people, drinking some myself, and now there’s not much left.”
“…”
“This set has six flavors, two of each. I didn’t know what Hwang-sil would like, so I picked the one with the most variety. But now, what’s left is…”
Seonwook opened the box and took out the two remaining juice bottles one by one.
“What, only two carrots left. Do you like carrot juice? They say it’s made with Italian carrots. What’s so special about carrots grown in Italy? It also has some apple…”
“I’m asking what this is. Do you have a problem with your intelligence? Why can’t you follow the flow of conversation?”
“Ah, you can’t tell at a glance? It’s a poem. I write poems. I’ve been stood up for two weeks, so my longing for Hwang-sil overflowed, and the inspiration just kept pouring out.”
“…”
“I wrote it all at once as soon as I was inspired.”
Mujae looked down at the paper for a moment, then back at Seonwook.
“…A poet? You?”
“Yes.”
“Is that your profession? A poet who’s published books?”
“No. I just write for myself. Do you have to publish a book to be a poet? If you write poetry, you’re a poet.”
“…”
“I have a poetic streak. Do you know what a poetic streak is? It sounds like a curse word, right? ‘Poetic bastard!’ But it’s not a curse at all. It means a habit of loving to write poetry. It suited me so well that I memorized it as soon as I saw it in the dictionary.”
“…”
“Do you want to see another poem?”
Seonwook took out his notebook from his back pocket, and Mujae leaned back slightly with a slight frown. The chair Mujae was sitting in moved back a little as he did so.
“No, why are you looking at me like I’m something dirty?”
Seonwook flipped through his tattered notebook.
“I was going to recite one of my best works for you, but they’re all so good I don’t know which one to choose. Oh, my very first poem was a real masterpiece…”
“Put that away and go sit over there.”
Mujae cut him off and pointed to the sofa with his chin.
“Do you know what’s good for reciting poetry?”
“Put it away.”
Seonwook shrugged and stuffed the notebook back into his pocket.
“Are you going to grope my chest again and do it alone?”
Seonwook went and sat on the sofa.
“Instead of just sitting quietly, can’t I join in too?”
Mujae stared at Seonwook silently.
“I’m pretty good at it. I want to show you, Hwang-sil.”
“…”
“Aren’t you curious about what I’m good at?”
“Take it off.”
Seonwook sighed and took off his hoodie and T-shirt.
“Come on.”
Seonwook spread his arms wide.
Mujae looked Seonwook’s body up and down for a while.
“Lower too.”
Seonwook looked at Mujae and slowly stood up.
“Just the pants? Or everything?”
“Everything.”
Seonwook casually took off his shoes and socks, then dropped his pants and underwear in one go. He stood with his arms and legs slightly apart, facing Mujae directly.
Mujae’s gaze traced Seonwook’s body up and down, then back up again.
It was the same expression he had when he saw Seonwook’s exposed chest, stomach, and shoulders the day they met near the subway underpass.
“Turn around.”
Seonwook turned very slowly, showing Mujae every corner of his body.
After a moment of silence, Mujae stood up from his chair, and Seonwook felt him approaching.
Seonwook recalled Mujae’s bare feet from last time. Those clean, beautiful feet that had approached him almost silently.
Mujae stood right behind him. His heat was palpable again.
The sound of fabric lightly rubbing together was followed by warmth approaching from behind. Mujae must have reached out his hand.
Seonwook stood still, focusing on that spot.
Soon, something like the tip of his finger gently touched his back, slid down, and then fell away. Goosebumps followed its path.
“…Are you cold?”
“No.”
“…”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
