Cha Jae-woo and I set out early, moving busily from the break of dawn toward the East Sea.
At first I thought about going to the nearby West Sea, but if we were going all the way to see the ocean, I wanted somewhere that felt more open and clear.
My memory of the West Sea — probably because of a mudflat experience I’d had there — left it feeling murky and close rather than open and bright.
Since I was going to be the one behind the wheel anyway, I figured I was allowed to decide something like this for myself.
Maybe because it was still only four in the morning, the outside world was steeped in a bluish dark. Thanks to that, the roads were light on traffic, and the drive ended up being more comfortable than I’d expected.
The reason we’d randomly decided to visit the seaside was the same as with the comic café — to help Cha Jae-woo find inspiration.
A few days ago, we’d had dinner like usual and were watching a movie over shaved ice for dessert. That’s when an especially beautiful emerald sea appeared in the background.
“Working on music in a wide-open place like that — it’d probably go a lot better, don’t you think?”
“Then go.”
“Huh?”
“Let’s go to the sea.”
It had been a casual, offhand comment — but in an instant, it had turned into a decided plan to make time and actually go.
I hadn’t meant to bring it up, but having said it first, it felt wrong to back out, so I ended up taking the wheel again.
Lately, Cha Jae-woo had been rushing straight to the studio the moment he was done at the library, and coming home around the same time as me.
Right after we went to the comic café, there hadn’t seemed to be any change — so I’d thought it hadn’t done much — but apparently that wasn’t the case.
As a result, we’d unintentionally been ordering delivery a lot, and while Cha Jae-woo was clearly not happy about it, he didn’t want to interrupt the first good stretch of work he’d had in a while, so he eventually gave in.
If I could have my way, I’d have liked to cook dinner myself — but with my own fixed work hours, any serious cooking was out of the question.
It wasn’t that my cooking was terrible, incomparable as it was to Cha Jae-woo’s. The problem was that getting it to a certain level of quality took a corresponding amount of time.
In the end, to actually cook a proper meal, I’d either have to leave work earlier or push dinner back later — and with a set schedule, neither was realistic. That was why we kept ordering delivery.
“It’s chillier than I expected — should we head inside?”
I decided we’d seen enough of the sea and pointed toward a nearby café. Cha Jae-woo nodded.
It was spring, so we’d both dressed lightly assuming it’d be fine — but being right by the water, the wind was sharper than expected.
Looking out at the sea had been refreshing and lovely, but standing there too long had chilled me to the bone. It wasn’t cold enough to make my teeth chatter, but staying out much longer and catching a cold wouldn’t have been surprising.
We hurried inside, and even on a weekday morning, the café was fairly packed. It was almost a miracle that a single seat with a proper view of the sea was still available. I ordered a warm tea, Cha Jae-woo a cold coffee, and we settled in to take in the rolling sea through the window.
A sweeping blue that looked like it could clear your chest with just a glance filled our entire view.
Watching the waves swell up close had been wonderful, but seeing it like this from a distance wasn’t bad either. Just holding it in your eyes was enough to feel a sense of fullness in your chest.
Once our drinks arrived, Cha Jae-woo set up his composition notebook and laptop on the table, and I opened the book I’d brought.
With me focused on reading and Cha Jae-woo absorbed in his work, the only sounds that drifted through were the occasional noise of coffee being made and bits of conversation from nearby tables.
Time passed, and once I’d finished the book I’d taken out, I found myself quietly watching Cha Jae-woo across the table. Sensing the gaze, he pulled off his headset and asked with a questioning look.
“What?”
“Nothing — just reminded me of old times.”
My face carried a smile whose meaning he couldn’t quite place, and Cha Jae-woo furrowed his brow. What nonsense are you about to say now? His expression seemed to be asking exactly that, and I shook my head with a mild sense of injustice.
“No, really — we came to a café like this together before, back in the day. I was just thinking of that.”
“……What did we do then?”
“Just talked about nothing much?”
He looked at me like he was asking what kind of nothing — and despite myself, I let out a small laugh.
He could just ask if he’s curious, but instead he just stares and keeps his mouth shut. That was so like Cha Jae-woo.
“It wasn’t a big deal. I was just saying something like — couldn’t you write a song with me as your muse?”
“……Are you insane?”
“Yeah, that’s what you said back then too.”
I took a sip of my tea, which had cooled to a lukewarm temperature from sitting too long. Cha Jae-woo seemed thirsty too and downed the rest of his iced coffee in one go. The coffee in the glass vanished in an instant, leaving nothing but ice.
“So what happened?”
“What do you think. I just got lectured — you said idols these days don’t sing openly about love, it doesn’t fit the trends, so you couldn’t use it.”
“That’s a fair point.”
Cha Jae-woo nodded like he thoroughly agreed. Then, as if checking my reaction, he shot me a sideways glance and asked:
“……How did that make you feel?”
“How did what make me feel?”
“You said I wouldn’t write the song. How did you feel about that.”
“I didn’t really think much of it?”
Unlike Cha Jae-woo, who was asking with such care, I answered with complete indifference. It wasn’t that I was hurt and pretending not to be — I genuinely hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
It wasn’t something I’d said seriously in the first place. It had been said in passing, almost thrown away.
Cha Jae-woo, who was obsessively protective of his career, would never have said he’d write me a song over a single offhand comment — and if he had, I’d have figured something was wrong with him and taken him to a doctor.
“Oh, but there was something I did say.”
I let a mischievous smile settle on my lips as I recalled the memory from back then, and met Cha Jae-woo’s eyes. A faint flicker of curiosity passed through those dark, unreadable eyes looking back at me.
“I never asked you to write any particular kind of song — but you were the one who brought up love songs, saying they were off-limits. So I thought.”
I continued slowly, as if re-enacting a scene from the past.
“You must really like me, huh?”
“……”
“……That’s what I said, anyway.”
Cha Jae-woo was quiet for a moment. He fiddled with the coffee cup in front of him, his expression giving nothing away.
It had been a joke — but since he wasn’t reacting, I started to feel oddly embarrassed for no real reason. Instead of waiting for his answer, I pulled out another book from my bag and opened it.
It wasn’t noon yet, so the plan was for me to read and for Cha Jae-woo to get a bit more work done before having lunch and heading back to Seoul before the end of the workday.
Dinner would be better sorted at home rather than eating out. I was thinking that far ahead, when —
A buzz sounded as Cha Jae-woo’s phone went off. I caught a brief glimpse of the caller, and it seemed to be from his agency. Cha Jae-woo answered immediately, and his expression turned suddenly serious.
The word plagiarism came up, and I closed my book and looked at him. Cha Jae-woo was scowling, raking roughly through his own hair, then stood up from his seat.
“I’m going to step out to take this.”
“Go ahead.”
With that short reply, Cha Jae-woo headed straight out of the café. His back as he rushed out without even grabbing his coat looked somehow unsettling.
I told myself he’d be back soon and tried to refocus on my book — but it wasn’t easy. My eyes would follow the words on the page, then pause, and drift toward Cha Jae-woo.
I checked the time. More than ten minutes had already passed. The wide-open window designed to give a full view of the sea let me see Cha Jae-woo clearly — his face grave, the call still going.
It seemed the call was running long, and I was worried about him being cold out there — but I couldn’t follow him out.
Cha Jae-woo was obsessively attached to his career, to the point of perfectionism. At the same time, he hated it when I pried into or fussed over his work.
Even through eight years of being together, there was always a line in front of me that I was not to cross. I never crossed it — I didn’t even try to get close to it.
The same held now, now that we’d become strangers after the breakup. Cha Jae-woo wouldn’t want me crossing that line. So the right answer was to play dumb and pretend not to notice.
“Let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
When Cha Jae-woo came back in after finishing his call and said that, I got up from my seat without hesitation. I’d seen this coming, so I’d already tidied up the tea and coffee cups in advance.
Rather than asking Cha Jae-woo about the call, I kept quiet and focused on driving. When we were younger, if it looked like something had happened to Cha Jae-woo, I’d ask what was wrong, whether he was okay — but that hadn’t been a wise choice.
Cha Jae-woo could not tolerate anything that left a mark on his career, and he could not stand having it worried over either.
Once, he’d picked a huge fight with me, saying was I asking because I didn’t trust him. After that, I got into the habit of not asking even when it seemed like something had happened.
I’d told myself it was because I didn’t want to get into pointless arguments with Cha Jae-woo — but looking back now, I think it might have been one of the steps in the process of giving up on him.
Then again, if Cha Jae-woo hadn’t been the type to obsess over a perfect career in the first place, we wouldn’t be here like this. He didn’t have feelings for me — so he wouldn’t have bothered to come find me and ask me to help him find inspiration to compose again, unless it was for that.
Thinking about it that way left a bitter taste in my mouth. Because in the end, the reason Cha Jae-woo was here with me like this was for composing — his career, nothing more.
In an instant, my thoughts turned cold. All the way back to Seoul, I only threw out pointless questions that circled around what actually mattered. Both Cha Jae-woo and I knew it — but neither of us pointed it out.
Cha Jae-woo occasionally glanced my way, as if he had something to say — but I kept my eyes on the road and pretended not to see him.
