Chapter 14
“Look, Choi. The fruit’s ripe.”
Michael pointed to the orange tree. Dozens of oranges, bright with a reddish hue, hung among the branches. Wow, amazing. Hyungoh responded with a forced smile.
Honestly, he couldn’t care less about the orange tree. Whether it was withered and rotting or plump and perfectly colored—none of it made any impression on him. All his attention was on his right arm. More precisely, on Michael, who was gripping it firmly, and on Marsha standing behind them.
“Choi. What’s wrong?”
“Huh? What?”
“Why are you tensing your arm?”
“Ah.”
Michael squeezed Hyungoh’s arm. Only then did Hyungoh relax it and laugh weakly. Sorry, the tree looks so nice I unconsciously tensed up… Ahaha.
What am I even saying right now?
Being nervous made him spout nonsense. When he glanced at Marsha, she seemed uninterested, staring straight ahead. But Hyungoh couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling from the smile he’d seen on her face earlier. An uneasy feeling. Michael pressed his lips together as he watched Hyungoh drop his head toward the ground.
As usual, Hyungoh entered Michael’s room. No—one thing was different. Michael was sticking close to Hyungoh’s side. I don’t know what’s gotten into him to make him drop his guard like this… Ah, could it be because of that? Because I comforted him that day when Michael was sobbing his heart out, like I understood everything?
Hyungoh sat quietly on Michael’s bed and let out a silent sigh as Michael stared at him. Well. This is how it ended up in middle school too. He recalled the second-year middle schooler with chunibyou syndrome.
You can understand me.
Of course. Hyungoh reached out toward Michael. That’s what you all want. Michael approached hesitantly and grasped Hyungoh’s hand.
“Choi’s hands are cold.”
Michael pressed Hyungoh’s hand against his cheek. It was warm. Despite giving off the impression that a cold wind would blow around him, he was ironically warm to the touch. I like cold things. Michael whispered softly into his palm after planting a quick kiss there.
“Michael.”
Hyungoh called out weakly. I’m sorry. Back then, I was just saying whatever to calm you down. So I can’t return your feelings. It’s awkward to say this when you’ve misunderstood my lie. Hyungoh swallowed the saliva pooling on his tongue. But you know, I don’t have much leeway either, so…
Let me be a little inconsiderate.
“Michael, are you close with my uncle?”
“Your uncle? Hunter?”
“Yes. Hunter.”
“Hunter…”
Michael tilted his head at Hyungoh’s question.
“Why Hunter?”
“Just—you two seem really close.”
“Yes. We’re close.”
“How did you become close?”
“Why are you curious about that?”
“Because I want to know more about Michael.”
It’s also my way of finding a way to survive. Hyungoh gently pulled Michael close and sat him on the bed. As if an invisible string tied Michael’s eyes to him, Michael hadn’t looked away since they’d entered the room. Though it was a bit much, Hyungoh accepted it. What else could he do when he’d brought this on himself?
When someone finally understands the unique parts of you that others don’t, and that someone happens to be me. Hyungoh felt guilty. That’s not really the case. In a way, I’m also not trusting you—I’m using you.
“Say that again, Choi.”
Michael held Hyungoh’s hand, his eyes bright. His hand, damp with sweat, slowly moved to rest near Michael’s heart.
Through the thin fabric, Michael’s shy, racing heartbeat traveled through Hyungoh’s fingertips from the delicate skin pulsing with heat. Hyungoh swallowed hard. A different kind of tension took over his mind. The exciting tremors were quickly replaced by a melancholic feeling that made him sad.
It feels like I’m becoming strange too.
The atmosphere turned awkward. Michael seemed to like that. Like a scene from a cliché but passionate shoujo manga—Michael’s heart pounded rapidly, and Hyungoh looked at him with flushed cheeks.
Everything was emotional. This sudden atmosphere, the racing heart, the heat melting his cold hands. Beyond the door stood Marsha, who had killed someone, and across the street, Hunter—a child abuser—was watching him. But those problems, at least for this moment, were fading from Hyungoh’s mind.
It was dangerous. Dangerously emotional.
“I want to get to know Michael better.”
Hyungoh said it. It’s actually true. I came today to figure out Michael’s real feelings. Hyungoh tried hard to cool himself down. Why am I like this today? I feel possessed.
His perfect eyes, his lips, and…
Hyungoh, who had been tracing his fingers along Michael’s eyes, suddenly froze. It was as if his dormant reason had jolted awake. Hyungoh let out a short, flustered laugh and pulled his hand back. Michael, who had been closing his eyes with a satisfied smile, stiffened when Hyungoh’s touch disappeared.
“How did you become close with my uncle?”
Hyungoh asked. At the mention of Hunter, the heat that had risen to his face began to fade. With that single sentence, it felt like returning to troublesome reality from a dreamlike, hazy world.
“Hunter loves Maria.”
Michael blurted it out.
“He says I look like Maria.”
“Who’s Maria?”
“Haha.”
Michael, who had been speaking calmly, suddenly burst into laughter. Fool. Choi is a fool. Hyungoh just stared blankly at Michael, who was rolling on the bed in hysterics.
Huh?
“What’s wrong, Michael? Who’s Maria that you’re acting like this?”
“If I tell you all the answers to what you’re curious about,”
Michael stopped laughing abruptly and said,
“You’ll run away.”
Hyungoh’s forced smile wavered at Michael’s duality—laughing hysterically one moment, dead serious the next. He really is unpredictable. How does he read my thoughts so well?
“What are you saying, Michael? Why would I run away?”
“Choi, you’re really bad at lying.”
“No, no. Listen, how could I run away and leave you behind? That won’t happen.”
“…Choi.”
Michael threw himself into Hyungoh’s arms. His pale yellow hair brushed softly against Hyungoh’s chin.
Hyungoh gently patted Michael’s back. Hmm. He felt like he’d said something he shouldn’t have. There’s an old saying that a single word can repay a debt of a thousand nyang. Frightened by Michael’s sharp gaze, he’d made a promise he couldn’t keep.
“So, Michael, your uncle…”
“Choi.”
“Yes?”
“Do you hate Hunter?”
“…”
“Why? Why do you hate Hunter?”
When Hyungoh stayed silent, Michael urged him, tugging at Hyungoh’s arm. Like a child begging for a toy, Michael pulled at the arm, and when Hyungoh still wouldn’t answer, he yanked with all his strength.
Hyungoh collapsed onto the bed without a sound and looked up at Michael. Michael climbed on top of Hyungoh’s stomach. It was literal, unspoken pressure. Michael rose and fell slightly with Hyungoh’s breathing.
Hyungoh was surprised by Michael’s strength—he didn’t budge even when pushed to the side. The harder he pushed, the tighter Michael locked his legs around Hyungoh’s stomach. Okay. I get it. Hyungoh let out a sigh, went limp, and answered.
“Uncle did strange things to you. That’s why I hate him.”
Michael’s eyes widened as if in surprise. But he didn’t ask what “strange things” meant. Was he flustered? Michael stayed silent for a while.
“You’re worried about me.”
“Of course. So…”
“You’re worried about me, Choi.”
I’m more worried about you, Choi. Michael covered his face with his small, delicate hands and murmured. Hyungoh didn’t catch what he said and tilted his head. What did you just say?
“Choi is like an egg. Looks hard, but you’re actually surrounded by a weak protective shell, and inside you’re soft and tender—easy to stain.”
“…Are you saying I’m weak?”
After pondering for a moment at Hyungoh’s question, Michael said,
“If the truth you have to face is ugly and disgusting and utterly unacceptable, are you confident you won’t run away?”
“I don’t run away from things like that.”
As long as my life isn’t threatened.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
Michael smiled broadly. Hyungoh, unable to move, quietly watched Michael’s lips. They moved tantalizingly, almost speaking but not quite, making him anxious. As if aware of this, Michael giggled again.
“Stop playing around and tell me, Michael.”
“You’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
But I’m glad. I was worried—what if you didn’t want to know, what if you couldn’t accept it? In the end, like it or not, you were going to find out tomorrow anyway. As Hyungoh pulled back with a look of disbelief, Michael quickly leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“You can look forward to it. Hunter will tell you himself.”
