“I’ll do it.”
“No need.”
Gi-hyeon flatly refused and snatched the kitchen knife, beginning to slice the tofu. Before long, he finished cutting with an air of confidence and turned to look at Do-gyeom. Unlike Gi-hyeon’s triumphant expression, Do-gyeom’s face was complicated.
“This looks fine, right?”
“Hmm…… yes.”
“By the way, what does this go in?”
“Doenjang jjigae.”
The corner of Gi-hyeon’s mouth stiffened slightly. Do-gyeom looked at the tofu cut in large chunks and tapped his chin.
“It’s fine. It’ll have a deeper flavor.”
“Mmm.”
“Still, it’s a bit on the large side, isn’t it?”
Do-gyeom flicked his hand, and Gi-hyeon wordlessly handed over the kitchen knife. Do-gyeom readjusted his grip on the knife and began slicing the tofu.
“You should press the back of your hand against the blade and curl your fingers. Otherwise you could hurt yourself.”
Watching the knife move through with clean, unhesitating strokes, Gi-hyeon let out a low murmur. Reading the faint admiration in it, Do-gyeom curved the corners of his eyes.
“I thought you were good at everything, but I guess not. Didn’t you say you live alone?”
“I do, but it’s such a hassle so I always just throw something together. More importantly, how are you cutting like that?”
Gi-hyeon examined the neatly sliced tofu with sparkling eyes. Throughout the cooking, he peppered Do-gyeom with questions, driven by his characteristic curiosity. It would have been reasonable for Do-gyeom to find Gi-hyeon annoying, yet he answered every single question faithfully. The meal they created together for the first time was humble, but more precious than any lavish feast.
By the time they finished washing up together, the sun had already set. Do-gyeom smiled in front of the stairs and gave a small wave.
“You worked hard today. Get some good rest, then.”
“Stay the night.”
Do-gyeom’s eyes blinked slowly. As he watched Do-gyeom gradually flush from the neck up, Gi-hyeon stroked his own brow with a serious expression.
“I wonder what you’re thinking.”
“Are you teasing me?”
“As if.”
“……Even without experience, I know what that means.”
At the blunt reply, Gi-hyeon’s lips parted. He pulled down the corners of his mouth that wanted to curve up and tilted his head at an angle. Amusement seeped into his languid voice.
“You might be more forward than I thought.”
“If you want to see my face again tomorrow, stop talking.”
“I meant it as a relief. I was debating whether I needed to give you a sex-ed lesson before anything about immunity or whatever.”
As Gi-hyeon pulled his lips up into a sensual smile, the fresh atmosphere shifted into something decadent. Gi-hyeon, who had been languidly watching Do-gyeom, stepped in close.
How should I handle this.
It was true that his body craved something. He could feel his patience wearing thin from just a kiss and a single embrace. Gi-hyeon’s gaze traveled over Do-gyeom’s straight collarbones and round shoulders. After a brief moment of deliberation, he curved his eyes in an endearing way.
“As much as acting out whatever Do-gyeom-ssi is imagining sounds good, I happen to like the ache of waiting too. Tonight, we’ll just hold hands and sleep.”
Gi-hyeon moved quickly and swept Do-gyeom up into his arms. Do-gyeom, suddenly finding the ground gone beneath his feet, clung desperately to Gi-hyeon’s shoulders. His prim eyes were now colored with bewilderment.
“What are you doing, put me down right now!”
“Why are you still this light? I’ve been feeding you well enough. I’ll have to fatten you up more.”
Gi-hyeon tightened his hold around Do-gyeom’s waist as he struggled roughly and climbed the stairs. Once upstairs, Gi-hyeon laid Do-gyeom down on the bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He stepped into the small study attached to the bedroom and returned with a book in hand.
“Let’s do this tonight.”
Gi-hyeon smiled gently as his eyes met Do-gyeom’s. When he turned on the ambient light, a soft glow settled over the bedroom. He sat down in the chair beside the bed and opened the book.
“When I was young, my father would often read to me, and it’s still a fond memory. He was such a busy man that he was rarely home for long, but in those moments, it felt like I had him all to myself.”
Do-gyeom gazed quietly at Gi-hyeon, who was lost in reminiscence.
“I’ll read to you whenever I have time.”
Just as his father had done long ago, Gi-hyeon read in a gentle, soft voice.
“Artists draw inspiration from ruins and remote places alike, but the primary source of their inspiration was their muse. The muse of Oskar Kokoschka, who represents Vienna, Austria, was Alma Schindler. From the moment Kokoschka saw Alma at a Secessionist gathering, he was captivated and the two became lovers, but……”
“……”
“Alma rejected Kokoschka’s marriage proposal and wed another man. As though he had foreseen this future, Kokoschka was plagued throughout their relationship by the anxiety that she might leave him. That emotion is laid bare in The Bride of the Wind, in which he painted himself and Alma.”
Gi-hyeon turned to show the painting printed in the book. Do-gyeom gazed quietly at the man and woman lying at the center of a swirling vortex. Unlike the woman who slept with a peaceful expression, the man — gripping her hand as though terrified of losing it — was steeped in a shade of melancholy.
“Kokoschka said that if theirs was a love that could not be bound on earth, then even if they were to drift through a stormy night sky, they must be together forever.”
Gi-hyeon softly brushed the corner of Do-gyeom’s eye. At the tender touch, smooth eyelids slowly lifted. Gi-hyeon pressed his lips to the corner of Do-gyeom’s eye. Holding his lips there gently, he whispered words of devotion.
“Even if it’s a love that cannot be bound on earth, even if we drift through a stormy night sky — I won’t leave you.”
His voice, which quieted all anxiety, was as gentle as when he had been reading. Do-gyeom smiled softly at Gi-hyeon’s vow. The lips that touched were tender, and the heart behind them was steadfast.
Gi-hyeon began loosening up his body, savoring the ease of the weekend. His muscles, stiffened from the relentless work he had been pushing through recently, screamed even at simple stretches. Gi-hyeon narrowed his brow and pulled his elbows back. He wasn’t sure he could run well since it had been a while since he’d jogged, but he started running anyway. His legs, built with firm muscle, cut through the cold air. With each push off the ground, pebbles flew up around him. The farther he got from the mansion, the more his back became soaked through. Gi-hyeon felt his muscles slowly unwinding and picked up his pace.
“Hoo.”
Having finished his jog, Gi-hyeon wiped his damp cheek and pushed open the mansion gate. The mansion was quiet at this early hour. He passed a few servants cleaning the windows and climbed the stairs. His unhesitating steps came to a halt on the second floor. A stunned voice escaped between his ragged breaths.
“Surely not……”
Light was leaking from Gwok Un’s study, exactly as it had been in the early morning hours. He hasn’t slept until now, has he? He already knew that Gwok Un had been busy lately with the Milan Triennale. It was well known that he handled everything with near-obsessive perfectionism, but to this extent……. Gi-hyeon stared blankly at the study where the light had not gone out. Even under his dazed gaze, the light from the study didn’t waver in the slightest. Blood began circulating rapidly through his loosened muscles. He had been heading toward his bedroom, but he turned his steps toward the studio instead.
When he arrived at the studio, books that hadn’t been there until dawn were now piled up on the table. Gi-hyeon stared blankly at the mountain of stacked books, then approached the table. On the sticky note attached to the cover, only three characters were written.
— For reference —
The no-nonsense notification pointed unmistakably to its sender. Gi-hyeon let out a hollow laugh and flipped through the books Gwok Un had gifted him. As he looked over the books written on various subjects — aesthetics, art theory, trends in contemporary art — a sense of déjà vu washed over him. He scanned the covers with a discerning eye.
“……!”
Every one of the out-of-print books he had been unable to obtain was deeply connected to his portfolio. Reading Gwok Un’s intent, Gi-hyeon let out a short laugh. How had he managed to identify, just from looking at his paintings, the exact philosophies and ideas reflected in them? He had known Gwok Un was exceptionally perceptive, but this was truly……. The dried sweat no longer bothered him. The yearning to paint consumed Gi-hyeon like a wildfire. He picked up a brush.
Gi-hyeon, deep in his work, sensed a presence and lifted his head. The moment their eyes met, Do-gyeom froze in place with a start. He laughed awkwardly and mumbled.
“Don’t skip your meals.”
Do-gyeom set a tray down on the worktable. He fidgeted with his empty hands and lowered the heels he had risen up on. Gi-hyeon set down his brush and smiled brightly.
“Thank you. I’ll eat well.”
“Then I’ll be going now. See you later.”
Gi-hyeon lightly caught Do-gyeom’s wrist as he tried to slip away. His smooth lips curved upward.
“Eat together with me.”
“No, I made this for Jakka-nim to eat. Please go ahead.”
“Then Do-gyeom-ssi can have some coffee. I had mine a while ago.”
Gi-hyeon pressed a coffee cup into Do-gyeom’s hands and picked up a sandwich. He took a big bite of the sandwich. The flavor that spread through his mouth made Gi-hyeon’s eyes go wide.
“This is really delicious. It doesn’t look like much went into it — how is it this good?”
At the voice full of admiration, the corner of Do-gyeom’s lips rose ever so slightly. Do-gyeom, watching Gi-hyeon with proud eyes, noticed sauce on the corner of his mouth. He tapped his own lips to signal.
“You’ve got something on the corner of your mouth.”
Following Do-gyeom’s gesture, Gi-hyeon wiped away the sauce from the corner of his mouth. He brought the sauce-covered finger to his mouth. His tongue slipped out between his red lips, licked the finger clean, and slipped back in. Do-gyeom’s gaze, which had been watching, went rigid. It was an ordinary, everyday scene, yet to Do-gyeom it called to mind his kiss with Gi-hyeon. Having lost his composure, he hurriedly gulped down some coffee. As the hot coffee poured over his tongue, his pretty face scrunched in pain.
“Ugh……!”
“Are you alright?!”
Startled, Gi-hyeon pulled Do-gyeom’s chair closer. A large hand gently cupped his soft cheek.
“Did you burn yourself? Open your mouth, let me see.”
When Do-gyeom carefully opened his lips, a reddened, swollen tongue was visible. Gi-hyeon furrowed his brow and headed straight for the refrigerator. When he returned, he was holding milk. He poured it into an empty glass and brought it to Do-gyeom’s lips.
