“How is it that everything you order fits my palate like a ghost?”
“Eating together, I came to roughly know your preferences.”
It wasn’t simply because your taste and mine are the same? I was a bit surprised to learn it was calculated consideration.
“How?”
“It’s hard to explain but… if you observe people even a little, there’s surprisingly a lot you come to know.”
Observation. I clicked my tongue at the expression that felt more like an audience than a date.
“You don’t need to so proudly boast that you have talent for stalking.”
He laughed out loud again. The voice I hadn’t particularly felt was thick or rough when speaking rang low and husky as if slightly scratched when laughing. That also really moves people.
“Then what’s your preference?”
I asked while chewing a fragrant leaf of unfamiliar shape. He answered without much thought.
“I don’t particularly avoid or prefer anything.”
“There’s no one without preferences. It’s not like you eat everything given to you.”
“I wonder.”
“Even frogs? Snakes? Grasshoppers?”
“Possible.”
I teased hoping to see him flustered, but he was calm and composed. He added that among those, he’s only never eaten grasshopper, and even if it appeared on a plate he wouldn’t particularly refuse, then even laughed saying, “Your standards for disgust are too low.”
“I’m the one who’s surprised. I thought you’d be picky.”
“Bird’s nest, crab, snails—they’re all common luxury ingredients now, but wasn’t the original idea of developing them as cuisine quite bold?”
Certainly, if I were an ancient chef, I absolutely wouldn’t have felt appetite for snails. He slowly drank wine without wetting his lips. An elegant movement where I couldn’t imagine him eating snakes and frogs at all. Unlike the wine flowing and rippling down, his eyes were fixed straight on me.
“I even feel a kind of fighting spirit in the tenacity to thoroughly conquer unknown wilderness down to the tender flesh. So I don’t dislike it. No.”
The man laughed quietly.
“Perhaps that might be my preference.”
Hmm.
He was a kind and considerate man, but sometimes he said ambiguous things. I could feel something like metallic cynicism with a strangely different texture from his usual gentleness, but I didn’t bother asking because I didn’t want to dig deeper. Instead, I raised my glass and tossed out a shallow, light compliment.
“It’s fun being with you.”
“Is that so?”
“Every day riding in your car, going to eat new things, and it’s all delicious too.”
How could it not be fun?
“I’m glad. I was worried because I’m not used to this kind of thing.”
It was a statement as irritating as it was modest. Does that mean there weren’t even such ordinary dates during all that time meeting with his lover? That’s a real bastard. At this point, it reaches a level of admiration. I even understood why he’s occasionally cynical. No, it’s a miracle he’s not twisted. Thinking about how much youth he must have wasted because of that bastard after having his soul mortgaged with sex from his young days, my stomach churned as if it were my own problem. Forgetting my resolution to not get deeply involved and just enjoy it lightly, I said with emphasis.
“Then do it with me. A lot.”
“Yes.”
He nodded obediently and spread the salad I’d been roughly scooping with a spoon smoothly on bread and offered it.
“Try eating it like this.”
At the sensation of it tapping my lips, I reflexively opened my mouth. He never interfered or pointed out things like this is originally eaten like this or you shouldn’t eat it that way. He just watched me eat unfamiliar food as I pleased, then helped as if to say there’s also this way. Carefully, slowly, he pushed the bread in, paying attention lest the rough cross-section of the bread scratch my lips. What touched my tongue was acidic vegetables and plain bread, but the taste of chewing and swallowing was sweet. The taste of small consideration that touches the heart.
“Yeah, this is much more delicious.”
He smiled like a child receiving praise.
Are you happy? You lovely and devoted pushover. I sighed while chewing the bread. If he’s this good to me, how well must he have treated his lover? Please realize the absurdity of that relationship through me.
Not that I’m any kind of good man either.
***
“Go in first and wait. I’ll park the car and come.”
I shouldn’t get too used to this kind of luxury.
These days, thinking the man’s manners are going beyond polite to close to an overprotective parent, I entrusted my body to those hands meticulously fastening my clothes as if sending me to the North Pole rather than the gay bar 5 meters ahead, and fell into well-fed self-reflection. Riding in the car he drives, eating expensive food he buys at restaurants he chooses, then having sex that feels like my body will sweetly shatter. I feel exactly like an emperor wrapped in golden cloth being waited on. At this rate, I’ll become a weak and helpless spoiled brat. I should do something adult-like.
“Parking’s hell here. Should I watch the back for you?”
“I’ll park in the back lot, so it’s okay.”
“By car you have to go way around to get there. Why did you come in this far? It’s one-way so it’s hard to get out too.”
“Then you’d have to walk from there.”
Ah, just live as an emperor… Yeah. Let’s just live like that.
With a touched heart, I affectionately caressed his lips that are good at not only kissing but also pretty words.
“Is it your nature, or because you lived in America?”
“What?”
“The default setting of your manners is different. No, it seems like the default setting of your character.”
All the foreigners I know were assholes. At my added comment, he smiled ambiguously and even the rear view of the departing car was modest.
“Hey.”
As I opened the shop door in a good mood, Pujo hyung threw down the ice bucket and rushed out. I obediently raised both arms like an arrested criminal.
“What’s wrong, hyung? I have money to receive but no money to pay back.”
“Did you go out and do it with him?”
“Yeah.”
“What fortune exploded for this bastard…! Spill the details.”
“He’s coming now, want to hang out together?”
“What?”
Hyung’s head shot up. I was more surprised by his momentum.
“I made you harbor unexpected hopes. It wasn’t an invitation for a threesome…”
“Just shut up for a bit. I wasn’t even thinking that!”
“Say hello. I’ll introduce you.”
“He’s really coming? You keep meeting?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would he?”
“Oh, that just felt shitty.”
As I took off my cardigan while squinting, hyung looked at me with a face wanting to nag.
“It’s March and your clothes are thin?”
“These days I only ride in foreign cars so there’s no time to be cold.”
Hyung punched the wall with his fist.
“What’s with the darts?”
Regardless, I looked at the disc swaying next to his fist and asked. Instead of answering, hyung smirked.
“What, foreign cars don’t have darts?”
“Don’t be cute.”
“I got it as a gift.”
“Oh.”
I casually threw a pin, but it fluttered feebly and dropped in front with a thud.
“Not easy.”
“This isn’t the time to play with that. Tell me about it. What’s he like?”
“He’s really great. I’ve never met or even seen anyone this much my type.”
“Of course. At that level, is taste even the issue?”
Hyung clicked his tongue.
“You always liked those kinds of guys anyway—neat and nice-looking. But why are the ones you actually date always like that?”
“No, this one really has a good personality and is cute.”
“I wonder. Even after getting screwed over by guys whose insides were the opposite of their looks?”
“When you’re dating, that’s part of the appeal. It’s just shitty when you break up.”
I just grinned and threw the pin again. This time it flew fairly stably and stuck in the corner.
“He’s especially perfect in that regard. No lingering attachment and there’s a stimulating option too.”
“What is it? More details…”
Hyung’s mouth, which had been pressing me, closed. Even without hyung’s expression, I could tell right away. The air behind my back tensed, then soon a dry scent like winter wind, a long shadow, covered over me as if embracing me in succession.
“You shouldn’t move your shoulders.”
The man grabbed my shoulder as I tried to turn around and gently pressed down.
“Don’t hold the pin with the tip pointing down, pull it.”
His large hand moved together, gripping both my hand and the dart pin. He whispered in my ear.
“Throw.”
My hand moved as if guided. The man’s thumb pressed my wrist, smoothly adjusting the snap. The pin flew in a stable parabola I’d never seen before and landed precisely near the center.
“Wow.”
I looked up at him with admiration bordering on awe.
“You’re really amazing. Are you a pro?”
“Of course not.”
“Have you done this a lot?”
