In the end, Seonha was able to plant his ass in Hongdan’s home. No, to be precise, it was closer to slyly perching himself on the edge of the sofa armrest while Hongdan was spaced out. The actual homeowner was still standing in front of the shoe cabinet with the first aid kit clutched to his chest.
“…Hongdan.”
When he no longer tried to kick him out and remained silent for a while, Seonha called out to him gently.
But there was no response. Hongdan wasn’t even looking at Seonha to begin with. With vacant eyes, he just kept staring at somewhere on the floor.
Feeling a bit hurt by this, Seonha reached his arm over the low partition separating the living room and entrance, trying to turn Hongdan’s attention to himself. However.
Smack.
“Don’t touch me.”
Before his fingertips could even reach, Hongdan swatted him away.
Though he received Hongdan’s gaze as Seonha had originally intended, the face he finally met was filled with murderous intent. It would have been better when he was being ignored. Moisture welled up in Seonha’s eyes again.
However, it seemed to work as poison for Hongdan instead.
Click.
“This is really…”
Hongdan opened the first aid kit he’d been holding the whole time. It was definitely not to treat Seonha’s left hand. The ointment and bandages he took out seemed to have purposes other than treatment too.
Just watching them get mercilessly crushed in Hongdan’s hands made that clear.
Seonha blinked slowly, trying to figure out Hongdan’s intentions. But before he could reach a conclusion, Hongdan swung his shoulder like a whip.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack, thwack, thwack!
“Ow, that hurts! It huuurts—!”
Various medicines and medical tools meant to treat an injured person were being thrown to harm Seonha. Seonha blocked the things flying at him with his unswollen right hand. However, Hongdan’s first aid kit was unnecessarily large for its low frequency of use, filled with deep affection.
In other words, it meant there was quite a lot of contents inside.
As much as he knocked away, more came back. It was only the difference between getting hit three times versus twice.
Each time he swung his shoulder, Hongdan’s voice rose.
“Why are you crying? Why are you the one crying? What did you do so well that you’re bawling and making a scene, you son of a bitch!”
“Hongdaaan— why are you really doing this to me, ow!”
“Why are YOU doing this to ME!”
Clunk!
Finally the plastic box, completely emptied of its contents, fell to the floor, and Hongdan began tearing at his own hair with his now-empty hands. From his mouth poured words that could be either screams or rage.
“What? You don’t remember? You trampled all over a person like that and now you don’t remember? Fuck, even if someone has to lose their memory, it should be me, so why did you lose it! Why are you always the one who gets to be comfortable, why!”
“No, I’m frustrated too…”
“And what’s with only remembering the past? If you’re going to forget, forget everything. If you threw away almost ten years, couldn’t you have just erased me too? Why did you specifically leave the memories of when we first met? How do you only make such selfish choices, every single time!”
“Hongdan, how is that my choice? It’s just… it’s just an accident. It was an accident for me too.”
“…So.”
At the expression ‘accident,’ Hongdan’s voice instantly turned ice cold. His excitement seemed to cool along with it, as his cheeks that had been flushed from the heat of anger regained their original color. But the pitch-black eyes facing Seonha were still covered in thorns.
“I should deal with it too? Your accident?”
Hongdan finally peeled his back away from where he’d been leaning against the narrow entrance. He slowly approached Seonha. The obstacle called the partition still existed, but they were close enough that their faces would touch if he just lowered his head a little. Like earlier in the bathroom. But Hongdan’s expression was quite different. The cold voice asked once more.
“That’s not it, is it?”
Actually, it was hard to call that a question. Hongdan’s question was as good as premised on only one answer. And that answer could be easily known. The cold gaze that could never be thought of as the same person as the Hongdan existing in Seonha’s memories told him.
‘That’s right, Hongdan. You don’t need to deal with it. Don’t worry.’
He knew he should say that, but…
After his lips trembled for a while, Seonha finally carefully brought out his carefully chosen words.
“…Could you just… help me find my memories?”
A cowardly yet desperate request that he clearly knew was the wrong answer.
Then he squeezed his eyes shut. So far he’d been hit with salt, red beans, bandages, ointment, tweezers—things that most people might get hit with once in a lifetime if at all—so there was no telling what object would come flying at him next.
Seonha waited with hunched shoulders for something to strike his body. But what followed was just a voice that had become a bit calmer.
“Uh, no.”
“Uh…?”
Seonha’s tightly shut eyelids slowly opened. Before he knew it, Hongdan was picking up the things he’d thrown one by one with a calm face. It was hard to believe he was the same person who’d been screaming like it was a shriek and getting angry just moments ago.
With each sweep of the narrow living room floor, an indifferent tone continued.
“I said no. I’m not a doctor or your parent, so why would I? There doesn’t seem to be any reason I should deal with this.”
“B-but…”
“To begin with, if you had the sense to find your way here, even with memory loss it just seems like a bit of an inconvenience at most, so I’m not sure there’s even a need to find your memories.”
“But Hongdan, you…”
“Most importantly, we’re divorced.”
Hongdan, who had finally picked up even the last remaining medicine, straightened his upper body.
The eye level was naturally higher for Seonha, who was perched on the sofa. But Hongdan’s eyes looking up at him were so emotionless and profound that it felt as if Seonha was looking up at Hongdan from far below.
It was intimidation. A silent pressure he’d never felt from another person in his life.
Seonha blinked. That towering frame shrank even smaller.
It was clear submission, but Hongdan didn’t show even a trace of joy at gaining the upper hand.
“Thanks to that, I no longer have any obligation to indulge your whining.”
He just calmly informed him of the facts.
About the ten years Seonha had lost.
And about the ten years he’d decided to throw away.
Seonha’s head dropped to the floor again.
“Give me your hand.”
Even in the midst of all this, Hongdan couldn’t hide his soft nature.
Perhaps because he couldn’t help but be concerned about the fingers swollen from being caught in the front door, white, slender fingertips briefly appeared in Seonha’s downcast field of vision. But Seonha couldn’t be happy. He remained motionless with his lips pressed tight, just like when he’d been stubbornly standing earlier.
Eventually Hongdan let out a small sigh and pulled his left hand over himself.
Then.
“Ah… it was the ring finger. That got caught.”
After checking the injured area in detail, he muttered as if somewhat deflated. Understandably so, since that particularly bluish-purple finger was a place Hongdan had once coveted more than any other part of Seonha’s body.
Unlike what Seonha had expected—that he’d push it away right away—Hongdan kept his gaze on that spot for a moment. It was because a small question had formed in his mind.
How did he manage to get caught on a finger he doesn’t normally use much?
The bruise formed right at the root of the finger, between the back of the hand and the finger, naturally brought a certain image to mind.
“…It’s like some kind of ring.”
Right, just like a ring.
Thinking back, it seemed Yeon Seonha hardly ever wore his wedding ring. Unlike Hongdan, who wore it like his own skin throughout their three years of married life.
Since it wasn’t a marriage made from genuine love, Hongdan didn’t particularly force it during their newlywed days either. Even after living closely with Seonha and developing feelings, he’d grown accustomed to the empty finger and never really questioned it. Anyway, when he was sharing body heat clinging to that characteristically warm body, even just interlocking fingers was enough to make him feel certain that place was his, and he was happy enough.
Moreover, if Yeon Seonha had treated Hongdan poorly it would be one thing, but until he found out that even after marriage he was still running around like when he was single, hadn’t he been the most perfect husband?
He thought it was relationship-draining in itself to nitpick over issues that weren’t even important.
With his inherently dull personality, Hongdan just accepted what was given, ate what he was told to eat, and smiled when told to smile, getting along well.
Well. He did say he didn’t like accessories anyway.
When really he just didn’t wear it because it would be inconvenient when sleeping with other guys.
Hongdan, who had been quietly staring at that swollen spot, soon covered it with the ointment in his hand, cutting off his idle thoughts. Then he issued an eviction order to Seonha in a calm voice.
“When you leave here, go to the hospital first, not home. Turn the left corner and it’s right there. If you can’t find it, just go straight home and call a doctor there.”
“…”
“If you don’t have your phone or wallet, I’ll call you a taxi at least. Take that and go.”
“…”
“Hey, are you listening to me?”
But from above his head, not even a short “yeah” answer could be heard, let alone breathing. Hongdan eventually had no choice but to face the face he didn’t want to see.
“Yeon Seonha.”
Hongdan lowered his voice a bit more as he called his name. Even so, those characteristically thin and neat lips remained stubbornly closed. They were locked tight as if someone had glued them with adhesive.
No longer wanting to even have trivial quarrels with Seonha, Hongdan decided not to urge a response any further. To be really honest, he didn’t want to let Yeon Seonha’s pheromones grow thicker in his space. The desire to kick him out quickly was the strongest.
As silence flowed, an atmosphere befitting a divorced couple finally arrived. Having finished the treatment, Hongdan roughly stuffed the used items into the first aid kit and stood up. Then he picked up his phone to call a taxi to send Seonha back.
Hongdan, who had briefly considered entering the familiar address out of habit, just entered his family home address instead. It was remarkable that even after a whole year had passed, even that remained so vivid.
Just as he was about to press the taxi call button without any issues.
“…We’re friends.”
A small murmur flowed from the lips that had been shut the entire time.
