Chapter 199
“Huh?”
“……”
“Does something hurt?”
Jerome shook his head in response.
“…I’m fine, but Dad seems even stranger.”
“……”
“Are you sick, Dad?”
Jerome’s face darkened, seemingly worried about his father’s unusual state. Hyeon-woo gently stroked Jerome’s hair.
“Dad is fine. How about Jerome?”
“I’m fine too~”
“Nothing uncomfortable?”
“Nope~”
Jerome, who had been acting spoiled, blinked his eyes while looking at Hyeon-woo as if he had something he wanted to say. Hyeon-woo quietly waited for him.
“…Dad, but what about Uncle Tae-geon…?”
Hyeon-woo’s hand, which had been stroking Jerome’s head, froze.
“……”
“Where is Uncle?”
“…Uncle is sleeping in the room next door.”
“I see.”
Hyeon-woo’s heart throbbed strangely at Jerome’s casual response.
“Dad, you know…”
Jerome lowered his voice to a whisper, as if sharing a secret.
“Did Uncle Tae-geon save me?”
“……”
“Uncle promised he’d get me out. He told me not to be scared and to wait.”
“……”
“I was really, really scared at first, but when Uncle said that, it was strange how suddenly I wasn’t scared at all.”
It must have been an overwhelming memory for young Jerome. Yet, his composed attitude when answering the adults’ questions about the accident was just admirable.
And yet… To think that Tae-geon had made such a promise to Jerome.
“I woke up once in the middle, and even though it was in the scorching fire, Uncle’s embrace felt cool and nice.”
Jerome sat up and hugged Hyeon-woo tightly.
“Dad, I take back what I said before.”
Hyeon-woo’s throat felt tight for some reason. He strained his voice to keep it from trembling as he asked:
“…Which part?”
“When I said Uncle only likes you.”
Jerome continued with a voice full of apology:
“Uncle likes Jerome too. A lot, a lot.”
“……”
“I don’t think I could go into a fire to save Uncle. But Uncle came in, right? That means Uncle likes Jerome much more than Jerome likes Uncle.”
Hyeon-woo felt like he might burst into tears. He swallowed his tears, trying not to show Jerome. As if sensing this, Jerome patted Hyeon-woo’s waist where his arms were wrapped.
“But Uncle likes Dad the most, so if Dad was trapped in a big fire, Uncle would save you, right? Thinking about that made me feel really strong. Uncle will protect us all! So Dad, stop worrying about Jerome now.”
Hyeon-woo tightly hugged Jerome, whom Tae-geon had saved by throwing himself into the flames. Then he swallowed his inner monologue:
Yes, Jerome, you’re right about everything. Uncle has already saved Dad once from a big fire. And he brought you, my only treasure, irreplaceable in this world, back to me at the cost of his own life.
How had he treated such a Tae-geon? Hadn’t he been suspicious of him, distrusting him, even thinking of quitting his job at the mansion and leaving his side, fearing he might hurt Jerome?
The harsh words he had mercilessly poured out to Tae-geon came back like a boomerang, scratching his heart. His chest ached. Hyeon-woo closed his eyes tightly against the oncoming dizziness.
Late that night, after putting Jerome to bed, Hyeon-woo went straight to Tae-geon’s hospital room.
He carefully adjusted Tae-geon’s clothes and bedding to avoid straining his right arm, which was bandaged from shoulder to wrist due to severe burns. After turning off the lights in the room, Hyeon-woo moved by moonlight to lie down on the slightly lower cot beside the hospital bed.
Burning his arm with an electric kettle was nothing compared to this. In this fire, Tae-geon had suffered burns that damaged the entire dermis of his right arm. The doctor had diagnosed that even after recovery, severe scars would remain.
Lying in bed, Hyeon-woo stared blankly at Tae-geon. Tae-geon’s flawless profile, lying straight in a proper posture, was imprinted on Hyeon-woo’s retina.
The moonlight seeping in from the window flowed elegantly along Tae-geon’s forehead, nose bridge, lips, and chin.
Gazing at this, Hyeon-woo sat up and rested his arm on the edge of the bed where Tae-geon’s head lay, propping his chin. Then, from a distance close enough to see every single eyelash, he observed Tae-geon intently.
Hyeon-woo’s head slowly tilted to the left. Following that direction, his fine bangs shifted to one side.
Hyeon-woo’s hand, stretched towards Tae-geon’s face, slowly moved along the contours created by the moonlight. Starting from the center of the smooth forehead, his finger slowly slid down the bridge of the nose, lips, and chin, finally dropping to Tae-geon’s neck.
The fingertip that had been tracing the protruding Adam’s apple moved lower. He could feel a small pulse throbbing near the nape. It must be somewhere around here. The spot where Tae-geon would bury his nose deeply and breathe in Hyeon-woo’s pheromones frantically.
Unconsciously, Hyeon-woo brought his head close to that spot. He took a deep breath, just as Tae-geon would do to him. But he could feel nothing but Tae-geon’s familiar skin scent that he had known since childhood.
Unable to hide his disappointment, Hyeon-woo lifted his head, and his eyes caught sight of an old, now faded burn scar inside Tae-geon’s slightly open collar.
Hyeon-woo’s eyes sank deeply. The image of Tae-geon’s back as he jumped into the flames without hesitation was etched in his mind and wouldn’t leave.
Had he jumped in like that back then too? Without a moment’s hesitation to save him from the fire pit.
‘I’m sorry.’
That single phrase Tae-geon had left resonated heavily in Hyeon-woo’s chest.
For what…?
After safely bringing Jerome back. What was that apology for? What had Tae-geon seen in that fire pit?
Hyeon-woo’s paused finger moved outward along Tae-geon’s straight collarbone. His finger, sliding down Tae-geon’s unbandaged left arm, nestled into his palm. He caressed the uniquely textured skin inside the palm.
It was the scar from where his skin had been sutured after being cut by a broken plate. Although the trace had faded so much that it was barely noticeable unless looked at closely, to Hyeon-woo’s eyes, even the sweat marks from when it had just been sutured seemed clearly visible.
On the back of his hand and wrist, faint but to Hyeon-woo’s eyes unmistakably clear scars from childhood remained intact.
Traces of despair that had clawed at Tae-geon had left their mark all over his body. Moisture welled up in Hyeon-woo’s eyes as he looked at this perfect creation of God, now miserably stained with all sorts of wounds. He knew the story behind each scar, neatly engraved like tree rings.
Hyeon-woo’s hand, which had been stroking Tae-geon’s fire-singed hair strand by strand, suddenly stiffened.
Then he touched a small, long vertical scar above Tae-geon’s thick, well-shaped eyebrow. Except for just one.
“…This is one I don’t know about.”
It was a scar from a car accident that had occurred while Hyeon-woo was away in America. Hyeon-woo stared at Tae-geon with blurred eyes.
An overwhelming fear swept over him at the thought that he might lose Tae-geon forever like this. Although those around him had tried to reassure him that nothing was certain yet, he was too scared to bear it.
It was strange. He couldn’t think at all about the truth of the traffic accident in which his parents had died. The only emotion dominating Hyeon-woo at this moment was the fear that Tae-geon might never open his eyes again.
It was the moment when all his self-deception about staying by Tae-geon’s side only to uncover the truth about the accident was exposed.
He was afraid. Afraid that the long time spent with Tae-geon would become a memory only he possessed.
While he remembered so clearly even the stories behind each small scar etched on Tae-geon’s body. He became increasingly scared as Tae-geon’s coma prolonged, fearing that even at this moment, Tae-geon might be erasing his memories of him one by one, that he might never regain consciousness.
How could you leave me here alone? How could you forget me?
Something hot welled up in his chest. Hyeon-woo’s hand, stroking Tae-geon’s hair, trembled uncontrollably. His chest felt so tight he couldn’t breathe. Just as his vision began to blur, something trickled down his cheek.
He withdrew his hand from Tae-geon and gripped the sheet tightly. As Hyeon-woo dropped his head, the tears that had run down his cheeks poured onto the sheet like rain. Tears kept welling up from his eyes like a broken faucet, without any sound of breathing or sobbing.
Flustered, Hyeon-woo was about to lift his head to find something to wipe with when a familiar warmth touched his wet cheek. Startled, Hyeon-woo quickly examined what had touched him. It was Tae-geon’s hand. Tae-geon’s fingers were wet with the tears he had shed.
He quickly lifted his head to examine Tae-geon’s face. Tae-geon’s gaze, his eyes half-open and hazy as if covered in mist, met with his own.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
