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Perhaps because he had made large movements during filming, even though it had been tied loosely, his wrist became slightly red and swollen. To calm his skin, Bunhong applied ice packs that the staff had brought to that area.
Even with the cold sensation, the excitement from filming didn’t easily subside. It felt as if he had become some other being, and by the end, only emptiness remained, as if something had filled his body completely and then drained out. Throughout the car ride back to the dorm after finishing all schedules, Bunhong kept revisiting and constantly chewing over that feeling. Without realizing it, he kept biting his lips.
In the subdued atmosphere, a sound came from beside him. Jeong Ido, who he had thought was sleeping because his eyes were closed, opened his mouth.
“…You’ll make your lips bleed at this rate.”
Why did he have to end up in the same car? A severe headache suddenly hit Bunhong as he raised his hand to press his forehead. At the same time, thinking it was annoying how Ido pretended to be caring, he chewed on the straw in the disposable coffee cup he’d brought from the filming location.
Anyway, in this car there was only the manager, Jeong Ido, and himself. Just the three of them and no one else.
The manager seemed to glance at the back seat through the side mirror, then focused on driving again without saying anything. Not feeling the need to act like they were friendly members here, Bunhong answered halfheartedly.
“Don’t worry about it.”
However, as if Ido’s words were exactly right, as soon as he rejected the offered advice, just as predicted, his lip must have split because a metallic scent rose up.
‘Ah. I’m so tired.’
Burying himself deeper into the plush back seat, Bunhong stared blankly out the window. A plump full moon was shining brightly. When he was little, he thought the moon was following behind him.
“……”
But now it was Kim Bunhong in the darkness who was chasing the light. Reflected in the car window was not only his own face but another’s as well.
That’s when it started. The rain beginning to fall, pitter-patter. Each time raindrops hit the window, the afterimage blurred and became clear repeatedly. Watching that for a while, he suddenly thought their expressions resembled each other.
He couldn’t tell in that moment whether what was being drawn on the glass was tragedy or comedy, but the man’s desire to go up felt futile.
His unusually small appetite and always gaunt, thin body. When embraced, rather than feeling warm body temperature from the touching skin, the joints of bones that painfully poked like obstacles.
His protruding shoulder blades were so emaciated it seemed wings might sprout from them and he’d fly away someday, and Jeong Ido’s pitiful body that was only thin and sickly like an invalid—why had it felt so precious back then? There were times when he’d stay up all night with sleepless eyes, anxiously worried that when he woke up in the bed they’d slept in together, he’d be left alone.
Strangely enough, love only truly comes to be by one’s side after letting go. It was a lover who always acted like he would leave, but only after they’d completely turned their backs on each other did they finally walk side by side in the same direction.
Was that why? He became curious.
“Why are you going this far?”
“……”
It was a question he threw out without even expecting an answer. He was used to talking to himself beside Ido. Words thrown endlessly like arrows into the air. Hoping at least one would hit the target, he’d chattered endlessly beside Ido. Because Bunhong was afraid of the silence that would come between them when he stopped talking.
Those processes of romance that had felt like solitary monologues gained meaning through what Jeong Ido had said to him in the studio after regression.
‘That song was for you. The song you sang at the audition.’
So he had been listening after all. That one sentence had made him choked up, but it also made him feel hollow, wondering if his obsession with Ido had actually been compensation psychology rather than love.
At first, he had simply resented Ido for trying to change him to be like Lee Hanbit.
But as time passed, he couldn’t help thinking about the other possibility Ido hadn’t chosen. At this rate, there wouldn’t even be room for Lee Hanbit to squeeze into BLACK later.
“Why me?”
If Lee Hanbit had even confessed in the past, why did he choose the fake over the real thing? If he had recruited Hanbit instead of himself from the very beginning, he might have been able to reach his desired goal more easily and quickly.
In any case, as a result, Bunhong had gained another chance to stand on stage with the two legs he’d obtained in exchange for his voice.
Ido refused to answer and whispered instead. The rain became heavier. His subdued voice penetrated the noise and reached Bunhong.
“What does that matter?”
“……”
“Would anything change if there were other reasons?”
Fleeting love. Easily changing emotions. Their relationship that would ultimately become nothing. A predetermined ending. Jeong Ido’s nihilistic perspective was similar to when he’d declared that nothing among these could be changed.
Clearly that was the case, yet Bunhong felt momentarily unfamiliar with Ido as he spoke those words.
From just the face reflected in the glass, he couldn’t easily guess the look in his eyes. For an instant, he felt the impulse to turn his head and look into Ido’s eyes. But he didn’t.
The car was still racing at high speed without being able to stop before reaching its destination, and the outside scenery kept changing without rest. Still, things that couldn’t be grasped. Feeling sorry for the stars that felt unreachably distant, Bunhong quietly reached out and placed his hand against the glass. Through his palm, he could feel the vibration of raindrops pouring down. It ached like a dream.
* * *
The confused feelings were brief, as daily life flowed by busily as always. Eyes sparkling, Lucy asked.
“Wow, OORA sunbae-nims? Then we’ll get to meet them directly?”
Bunhong thought it was a natural progression. Being from the same agency, and to raise the buzz for the reality program, casting the senior group OORA was essential. But having to make a fuss in front of the camera with that nauseating face as if he hadn’t guessed this fact at all felt ridiculous to Bunhong. At the same time, though he’d expected it, he couldn’t help hesitating the moment he heard that name.
“……”
It was because uncomfortable memories surfaced. The owner of that name he’d tried to forget in the flowing time but had always remained in a corner of his heart, Oh Hangeul—that moment when he’d last seen him,
…that face like a rain-soaked puppy pleading not to leave.
He was just a worthless, insignificant person, so why had Hangeul been so kind to him? That made him feel even more sorry. Bunhong wanted to make excuses.
Would Hangeul understand if he confessed that he had a talent for only disappointing those who had expectations of him?
Was he originally a kind person? Not just in front of people, but even after the cameras were turned off? He was certain Hangeul was a good person, but the entertainment industry was a place where you couldn’t survive just by being nice.
If he wasn’t originally that kind of person, if what Hangeul had given Bunhong was more than just goodwill, anxiety arose that he might have made a huge mistake.
In any case, if they were to meet again, they’d encounter each other often now that they were part of the same company family, and since they couldn’t live holding grudges forever, Bunhong resolved that he must apologize. Even though it had ended well with Hangeul’s proposal that they should make music together sometime in the future, he must have been disappointed on one level.
What they absolutely had to capture in filming was going over with the soon-to-be-released music CD to give proper greetings. After finishing signing the CDs individually, under the manager’s guidance, the BLACK members’ steps headed toward OORA’s waiting room. Before the door opened, the manager looked back at them and warned them several times to be careful.
“Don’t make any mistakes!”
Clunk. Hearing the sound of the door opening, Bunhong unconsciously swallowed. Actually, throughout the walk, he’d been so tense that the long corridor felt incomparably shorter than its actual length. Unable to watch any longer, Duho patted his frozen shoulders.
“It’s not like we’re singing and dancing, it’s just filming, so cheer up!”
“…Yes.”
‘I think singing and dancing would actually be easier’… was what Bunhong wanted to argue. Because tension greater than when going on any stage was wrapping around his entire body.
As soon as the door opened, cameramen and staff quickly moved and entered to take their positions.
“……”
Without turning his head at the door, he stole glances with his peripheral vision. Oh Hangeul was among the taller members of OORA, so he inevitably came into his field of vision easily.
Quite some time had passed since they’d parted until meeting again. As proof of this, Hangeul’s appearance had changed somehow from that time. Perhaps because his work as an actor had ended, his previously black hair had been bleached idol-like.
The color was subtle. It looked close to blonde but should it be called orange-tinted?
His previously short back hair was also quite long now.
‘Even with such unique hair, he’s still incomparably handsome. It suits him well.’
Thump thump. Bunhong was standing at the very end of the line of members moving in a row toward OORA, and as their movement got closer to Hangeul, his heartbeat grew so loud it was almost ringing in his ears.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
