-13-
“Hot chocolate. Chocolate. Chocolate cake. Chocolate latte. Chocolate shaved ice. Chocolate ice cream.”
Hangeul spoke with an extremely solemn attitude, slowly breathing long breaths between each word.
Because his eyelashes were heavy from being moistly wet with pooled teardrops, Bunhong barely opened his eyes.
“…”
When he blinked and looked with bewildered eyes, the corners of his mouth that had already been slightly raised drew a gentle curve. Hangeul, who smiled brightly, looked at Bunhong and shouted in a cheerful voice:
“Doesn’t that make you feel better?”
“…?”
“Huh. Don’t tell me you hate sweet things?”
I like chocolate the most in the world. After music. Hangeul said that while carefully bending his finger toward Bunhong’s eyes and finished his words.
“It’s a spell to make you happy.”
The teardrops that hadn’t been able to flow yet became dew and formed on Hangeul’s finger. Bunhong, who was staring blankly at that sight, had tears he couldn’t stop flowing from his other eye as well.
Then Hangeul said gently as if he couldn’t stop it:
“Stop.”
Bunhong, who had been embarrassed for a moment, now put strength in his eyes to stop the tears from flowing and muttered:
“…The tears… keep…”
“Oh my, a faucet must have burst in the sky.”
It’s pouring down here. Hangeul, who spoke teasingly, separated his body from Bunhong and instead went to sit next to him, plopping down.
That way, Bunhong’s tears finally stopped, but the hiccups didn’t stop. So the solution Hangeul came up with was to try holding his breath for a while.
While doing that, Bunhong, who suddenly had a question, asked Hangeul:
“But if you keep sitting like that, won’t your clothes get dirty?”
“…”
“I’m fine since it’s a school uniform, but isn’t that a shooting outfit…?”
When Bunhong, who still couldn’t stop hiccupping even after holding his breath for quite a long time, spoke haltingly, Hangeul answered as if it didn’t matter:
“It’s sponsored anyway. It’s not my clothes.”
The way he said that so confidently was so absurd that he couldn’t stop the laughter from leaking out weakly, and after laughing quietly, Bunhong realized at some point:
“The hiccups… stopped.”
The hiccups had stopped before he knew it. Rather than holding his breath, the laughter that burst out at an unexpected moment seemed to be a special remedy for hiccups.
“Then shouldn’t you be more careful? Since it’s not yours but someone else’s.”
For Bunhong, who had always cared more about others’ gazes than his own, Hangeul’s words and actions felt special.
Rather than feeling unusual, he liked his arbitrary attitude.
Ta-da. As if casting magic, Hangeul, who had been fumbling behind him for a moment, extended one hand he had been hiding in front of Bunhong’s eyes and asked:
“This is yours, right?”
At the object that appeared from an unexpected place, the thing he had been searching for so desperately, Bunhong opened his eyes wide and shouted:
“Oh! I found it. My MP3.”
In Bunhong’s mind, which regained reason belatedly, signals screamed to somehow smooth over this situation.
“He doesn’t think I was crying just because of this one object…?”
But he didn’t seem particularly curious about that, and due to Hangeul’s consideration in immediately moving to another topic, he realized there was no need to make excuses.
“What kind of music do you usually listen to?”
“…”
“Ballads? Hip-hop? Acoustic?”
“…”
Hangeul, who had been counting on his fingers, tilted his head.
“Or what else is there.”
“…”
“These days everyone puts music on their phones and walks around, they don’t really use MP3s. That’s why I was curious.”
That’s right. Bunhong answered while staring at the machine that was almost like junk with eyes that looked at something precious:
“…It was my friend.”
When loneliness grew abundantly in his heart, music was always there by his side,
“Don’t cry. Be happy. Don’t hurt. You can’t fall down.”
It was the only existence that comforted him with various words like that.
Even though it must have been incomprehensible words, Hangeul didn’t ask Bunhong anything as if he understood.
Just like he hadn’t asked why he was crying earlier.
Instead, he made a different request.
“The songs,”
“…?”
“Can I listen to them?”
Kim Bunhong decided to gladly accept.
“…Okay.”
Sharing his playlist with someone was a completely new experience for him, so it felt unfamiliar. But he wanted to do it for no reason.
In the dark changing room where light barely came in, they each shared one earphone and listened to music selected only according to Bunhong’s taste.
Occasionally, Oh Hangeul hummed along quietly to the songs. Then, feeling his shoulder getting heavy, Bunhong carefully turned his head.
Seeing Hangeul, who had fallen asleep at some point, leaning against his shoulder, he relaxed the tension in his body so he could sleep more comfortably.
Pondering over what he had said during the performance, Bunhong finally stretched out his legs that had been bent.
“With just music, every moment gains meaning.”
The changing room felt cozy. The romantic atmosphere lingering in the space made his body languid.
The subtle shampoo scent coming from the leaning shoulder, enchanted by the melody flowing in his ears, Bunhong, who had been quietly closing his eyes, also dozed off at some point.
“Mmm…”
Feeling the cold air of the silent night flowing in through the crack in the door, Bunhong tossed and turned briefly before waking up.
Hangeul, who had been busily contacting someone with his cell phone, turned his head at Bunhong’s movement and whispered:
“Did you wake up?”
Startled by those words, Bunhong sat up straight. Certainly, until he fell asleep, Hangeul had been leaning on Bunhong’s shoulder, but when he woke up, their positions were reversed.
He didn’t know from when he had been sleeping while leaning on Hangeul’s shoulder, but their bodies were close enough that their breathing almost touched.
Watching Bunhong hastily move away, Hangeul smiled mischievously and asked:
“Want to go eat tteokbokki?”
Come to think of it, he seemed hungry too. Grumble, Bunhong, who belatedly noticed the signal from his stomach, quietly nodded.
* * *
Since it was quite late, and Oh Hangeul himself was a famous celebrity, they couldn’t go to a street food stall. So they had no choice but to choose the inside of the car.
Unlike during the day, the inside of the car that had come to pick up Bunhong was empty.
“Heave-ho.”
Hangeul split the wooden chopsticks in half and offered them to Bunhong first.
“Here, take these.”
After receiving the chopsticks he handed over, Bunhong picked up a rice cake with a pounding heart.
However, the tteokbokki he ended up eating was quite spicy. To what extent? It was so spicy he couldn’t eat it without water. His vision spun.
Bunhong, who wasn’t originally good with spicy food, kept reaching for his cup out of habit and fanned himself with his hand, and Hangeul, who witnessed this behavior, said:
“Is it spicy?”
“It’s really spicy… Isn’t it spicy for you?”
Then Hangeul looked out the window with a momentarily frightened expression and spoke:
“It’s not spicy for me. I have something more terrifying waiting for me after this…”
Wondering what was going on, when he followed him to look outside the car window, Hangeul’s manager’s determined face was quite fierce as he walked toward the car with drink cans in both hands.
Gazing wistfully at that sight, Hangeul’s premonition that something unfortunate was about to happen, muttered that something bad seemed to be coming, wasn’t wrong. As soon as the manager got in the car, he began fiercely hitting his back.
Oh dear, that must hurt.
Bunhong watched them while sipping the drink the manager had given him, like watching a fire across the river.
As soon as Hangeul got hit once, he immediately shouted quickly:
“Ah! Hyung!”
The manager said firmly:
“Who, hey, who’s your hyung. I never had a younger brother like you.”
Oh Hangeul pretended to cry and grabbed the manager’s hand that was heading for his back again.
“Wow, that really hurts. How many years have we been together?”
“Usually you boss me around, but only at times like this I’m your hyung? I’m already sad about getting old without being able to marry because I’m taking care of you guys, so don’t mess up the family tree and shut your mouth.”
The manager, who said he needed to be hit a few more times and shook off his hand, began the angry beating session again.
Giving up, Hangeul raised both hands as if being punished and declared surrender:
“Honestly, I admit I did something deserving of being hit, but please hit me a little more gently.”
Even with Hangeul’s aegyo, the manager seemed quite angry.
“You deserve to be hit more! Do you know how surprised I was when you suddenly disappeared?”
“But we’re eating right now. They say even dogs aren’t touched when eating, so isn’t there something like accumulation? Save it up and let me get hit later when I want to come to my senses.”
That’s right. We’re eating right now. The manager, who was convinced and about to turn around, got frustrated saying, “What kind of beating has mileage like points to accumulate! Then you’re saying you’ll pull these extraordinary stunts again next time!”
Kim Bunhong also understood that feeling and looked at Oh Hangeul’s manager pitifully, remembering past memories.
“In the past, Duho hyung had that kind of image in BLACK.”
Direct and honest in expressing his feelings, acting as he pleased.
To Kim Bunhong before regression, he had said this:
“Hey! Get a grip!”
“…”
“Even if you cry and cling here, Jeong Ido won’t look at you anyway. He’s originally that kind of bastard, and he’s lived like that all along. You’re really something too. Do you think he’ll change just because you’re like that?”
Toward Duho, who grumbled as if frustrated with burning anger, Kim Bunhong of the past had answered like this:
“It’s okay. I’m good at waiting.”
While each promise has its own weight, waiting is one-directional. Rather than the person who made the promise, only the heart of the person waiting becomes anxious.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
