“Go ahead.”
“……”
Seowoo had been about to kick the ball back to Dano, but changed his mind and kicked it toward Hyeon instead. The ball skimmed across the grass and rolled quickly — the moment it reached Hyeon’s foot, it came right back to Seowoo. Seowoo reflexively lifted his foot and stopped it cleanly.
“Oh.”
Hyeon’s short exclamation felt like a mild dismissal. Seowoo felt a spark of stubbornness ignite instantly and this time kicked the ball considerably harder. The ball flew off with a satisfying thwack, and Dano burst into laughter clapping his hands.
With each pass, more force was added. At first Seowoo had only been stopping and returning Hyeon’s kicks, but gradually he started sending the ball back with rougher, more spirited passes, like an excited puppy. The ball flew back and forth between the two of them in a frenzy, zigzagging all over the place.
“Me! Me!”
“Does Dano want a turn?”
“Yeah yeah! Dano’s good too! I’m good!”
Dano, hopping up and down beside Seowoo, was bursting to join in. He received the ball with a flushed, eager face and gave it his hardest kick — but there was no matching his dad. The ball only rolled a short distance, and Hyeon ran over and flicked it up into the air, catching it on his chest. Dano blinked and startled at Hyeon’s explosive movement, but clapped and laughed and squealed with delight.
What had started as a reserved little exchange between the three of them grew increasingly intense. Hyeon tore across the grass in a way that existed nowhere in Seowoo’s imagination — a version of him Seowoo had never even thought to picture — and he showed no sign of tiring. In the end, the first to wave the white flag was Seowoo.
“I thought only Dano was a handful……”
Seowoo muttered, bent over with his hands on his knees. Running around since morning had left a sweet taste in his mouth and his legs trembling. Seowoo passed the ball to Dano and plopped down on the ground. Then, not even waiting for Hyeon to come jogging back from a distance, he flopped all the way down onto his back.
“Dad lost. Dano wins.”
“Hooray! Hooray, hooray!”
As Seowoo lay on the ground panting with both cheeks flushed red, Hyeon came over and held out his hand.
“Shall we go get something to drink?”
Seowoo looked at his hand. He remembered — the first time Hyeon had come down here and barged into his home, he had consciously chosen not to take that hand. Seowoo hesitated briefly, then quietly slipped his hand into Hyeon’s. Hyeon, as if he’d been waiting for it, pulled him up in one swift tug.
The sun had climbed to the very top of the sky. The three of them slowly left the park and stepped into the café that was visible just nearby. At this early hour the place was quiet, not a single customer inside.
As Seowoo walked up to the counter, Dano and Hyeon fell into line beside him. The person who appeared to be the café owner greeted the two of them with a welcoming look.
“Oh, you’re here? How come Dano isn’t at daycare today.”
“Hello. I’ll have an iced café latte, a Pororo strawberry juice for Dano, and……”
“I’ll have an iced tea.”
Hyeon answered, watching Seowoo greet the owner like an old acquaintance. The small café with not a single employee had a similar atmosphere to Sangoh’s place. The owner looked at Hyeon, then at Seowoo, then at Dano, with an observant eye.
“A guest staying at your place?”
“Sorry?”
“Oh, I just haven’t seen you before.”
The owner tossed out the question and turned away to start brewing the coffee. The grinding sound of the beans drowned out any chance for Seowoo to reply. Instead he turned his attention to Dano tugging at his sleeve and headed outside. The three drinks came out shortly after, and Hyeon was the one who picked them up.
“You seem like the type who makes friends easily.”
Hyeon said, handing Seowoo the plastic cup of coffee.
“He’s just a neighbor I exchange greetings with. This area is small……”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a city of at least 300,000 people.”
“That’s not what I meant — he also knows Donghyeok and Sangoh.”
“Ah.”
Hyeon didn’t ask further. With a neutral expression, he peeled open the packaging on the children’s drink he was holding. He even pushed up the round sports cap himself so it was ready to drink, and held it out — but Dano made no move to take it.
Hyeon had no choice but to hand the drink to Seowoo instead. Seowoo took it and passed it to Dano, and only then did Dano receive it with both hands and bring it to his lips. Hyeon’s eyebrows shot upward, naturally.
“That’s quite hurtful.”
“……Mm.”
“He was laughing and having a great time just a moment ago.”
Hyeon put on a deliberately stiff expression, and Dano averted his eyes and sipped his drink.
“He’s more than halfway there. Just a little more patience.”
Seowoo whispered, and Hyeon laughed, amused. Is that so? he asked, and Seowoo nodded, reaching up to stroke the round top of Dano’s head. The gaze looking down at him was endlessly warm, and the smile resting on his lips was soft as a flower petal. Hyeon watched that quietly for a moment, then spoke in a low voice.
“The baby’s lucky.”
“Sorry?”
“To have a dad like Yoon Seowoo.”
“……”
It was said so offhandedly, almost in passing — and yet for some reason Seowoo couldn’t find a single word to say back.
As he’d always told Donghyeok, Seowoo had no intention of letting Hyeon into his life. He only hoped that once Hyeon’s business here was done and his own treatment was over, they could part ways cleanly without any noise. To go back to the way it had been for the past three years — lives with no point of intersection, as if they’d never known each other.
But because he didn’t know what Dano thought, and hadn’t even thought to ask — the question of whether he really was a good father still lingered.
Seowoo took Dano’s outstretched hand and began walking home, following behind Hyeon.
* * *
Late in the evening, after closing up the shop, Seowoo stood in front of the studio building with a look of grim resolve.
Dano, who had been playing with Donghyeok at home, had fallen into a deep sleep — likely thanks to the morning’s ball game. Hyeon had readily agreed to Seowoo’s request for an evening treatment session.
There was no telling how long Dano’s anxiety would last. He kept picturing the way Dano had clung to his legs, crying that he didn’t want to go to daycare. What if he does that again tomorrow morning? And the day after? On top of already taking up so much of Hyeon’s time, he didn’t want to keep causing trouble.
If tomorrow morning ended up being swallowed up by Dano again, he’d been thinking of suggesting they all go out together to take photos instead. He had to do something. Whether it was treatment or the work — he didn’t want Hyeon wasting his time and resources because of him. It all felt like debt piling up.
So it made sense to try the treatment when the opportunity came. Embarrassing or awkward as it might be, this time he had to be the one to make the first move. The sooner his pheromones found their balance again the better, and above all else — he could collapse again as soon as tomorrow. Once his mind was made up, there was no reason to delay.
Better to get it over with quickly.
Climbing the stairs to the third floor, Seowoo breathed slowly and steadily. The interior of the quiet building was dark as though no one lived there. There wasn’t even light filtering in from outside — the only thing visible was the red dot on the touch pad next to the front door. Just as he was about to enter the passcode Hyeon had given him in advance, the door clicked open and a fan of light spread out at his feet.
“You’re here?”
Seowoo looked up at the quiet greeting. Whether Hyeon had just stepped out of the shower, a scent carrying traces of warmth and moisture briefly brushed across his face. Hyeon placed a hand on Seowoo’s shoulder and craned his neck to peer behind him.
“Weren’t you scared? I could have sworn I put sensor lights on the stairs……”
Seowoo stood slightly stiff and said nothing, and Hyeon looked at him quietly for a moment.
“Come in.”
What followed was the same gentleness as always. Looking at his face, everything — whether from earlier in the day or before that — seemed to simply vanish, as if it had never happened.
“Excuse me.”
Hyeon let out a small laugh at Seowoo’s overly formal greeting.
Following the tilt of his head, Seowoo stepped into the work space, where a single round peanut-shaped armchair had been set out for him.
“Sit here. I’ll keep the pheromones faint.”
“……Thank you.”
After settling Seowoo in, Hyeon began preparing to work without much explanation. He set up the easel and adjusted the lighting. The faint smell of dried paint drifted past, and the soft shuffle of slippers moved around quietly.
Seowoo watched him with a slightly puzzled look. Wasn’t he the one who said it was too slow and that he’d be the one to decide how things went. Was he actually going to follow through on what Seowoo had first suggested — just being in the same space together? Really? Was he planning to sit Seowoo down here and just work?
Maybe it was just his imagination, but it felt like being transported back to when they were preparing for the exhibition three years ago — and not just any point during that time, but the very beginning, back when Hyeon hadn’t even called him by his name properly yet. The start was nothing like what he’d expected, and Seowoo sat there blinking, at a complete loss.
He told me not to run no matter what.
He’d demanded to know if Seowoo had really come asking for alpha pheromones without even being prepared for that.
For all the tension he’d built up coming here, the atmosphere was nothing but peaceful.
“If you get bored, there are a few books on the nightstand. All my taste, though. There are drinks in the fridge too.”
Hyeon murmured without lifting his eyes from his stack of sketches. He didn’t seem to be expecting a response — even when Seowoo stayed silent, he never once looked back.
“……”
Come to think of it, this was the first time seeing Hyeon actually work. Even during the times Seowoo had come and gone from Hyeon’s studio while preparing for the exhibition, all that had been permitted was conveying updates or exchanging opinions. When it came to the paintings too, he’d only ever seen ones that were already finished, or at most, only the parts of an unfinished piece that Hyeon chose to show him.
That was why. The moment Seowoo realized this was the first time watching Hyeon’s hands move in the act of creating — he found himself holding his breath, for reasons he couldn’t quite name.
