Whenever he fell into that inexplicable, strange agenda, Eunha would chew over his intended purpose like a vow. What was he even doing? He was just in the process of meeting ten times and then parting ways. This was a relationship with a predetermined end, a connection that could be severed at any time, and when the time came, it would naturally be so.
Why only three meetings had been fulfilled so far was truly a mystery. It felt like they’d met about twenty times.
In reality, they had met just a bit less than that. It was just that they hadn’t shared meals, and they hadn’t held hands. It should be fine to let them come to a cafe and idle around a bit. It should be no problem to occasionally keep in touch. He had thought of it so complacently, and then Yeonjun had seeped into becoming part of his daily life. Regret came too late.
Then Eunha rebuked himself. What was there to regret? That was something only those with remorse would do. Eunha had no remorse whatsoever. He had no feelings, and because of that, it didn’t matter what form the process took. Whether they met a few more times or not, the conclusion would be the same.
So, once those ten times or whatever passed—
“I’ve come here often.”
“With who?”
“Various people. Different ones each time.”
The implication wouldn’t be hard to guess. That those ‘people’ were all partners he’d spent more than one night with.
Should he show his pathetic side, or should he try to maintain a decent appearance? Between the two extremes where he could hardly make a decision, Eunha had nearly given up on choosing. It was because he’d realized something. Even if he showed his pathetic side, Yeonjun wouldn’t process it according to expected values.
No matter what behavior he showed, there seemed to be no sign of affection particularly waning. That’s why he became reluctant to treat him especially well too. In case it would only make his emotions more solid. That kind of thing… wouldn’t that be somewhat deceptive, he thought on one hand.
So Eunha gave up worrying about his attitude. Instead of going through the headache of fabricating something, he decided to be roughly honest. Leaving the judgment entirely up to Yeonjun.
In the middle of the long bridge, there was a space that protruded in a round shape. Reaching that spot, Eunha rested his arms on the railing.
“The wind is really blowing.”
“It is.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“A little.”
Though it was these days when temperatures hit up to 30 degrees Celsius at midday, the nights were still quite chilly. Moreover, perhaps because this was the riverside, the air was particularly cold. It was around the time he was hunching his shoulders.
“Then can I hug you?”
It was a voice that sounded as clear as an innocent question. Was he hearing that right? Looking to the side incredulously, Yeonjun, who had likewise been leaning his elbows on the railing, wore a faint smile in his eyes. Then he pulled back his upper body, spread both arms slightly, and took a posture as if leaning toward him.
Eunha exhaled through his nose and slid a few steps away in the opposite direction. Could that even be called a question?
“No.”
“But you said you’re cold.”
“I’m not cold anymore.”
“I’m cold.”
“What’s cold about you?”
He was wearing a hoodie that didn’t look very thick, and so he did look a bit cold, but Eunha coldly dismissed it. He looked forward as if shutting off his concern. Then Yeonjun murmured quite pitifully from the side.
“I’m so cold…”
Good grief. What am I supposed to do? Turning his head sharply to the side again, he spoke with clear pronunciation as if stating explicitly.
“We’re not anything to each other. Holding hands is the maximum.”
Loosely bending his upper body again and leaning his elbows on the railing, Yeonjun turned his body in the direction facing Eunha. Their shoulders lightly touched, and he tilted his upper body and head a bit more, narrowing the gap between them even further. His eyes were intent.
“Then how about… hyung tries liking me a little, so we can become something to each other.”
It was a murmur that seemed like whining.
“There’s nothing to lose.”
With the fingers resting on the railing, he tapped at Eunha’s fingers placed nearby. It was a gesture that seemed desperate. These days, he would occasionally reveal his inner feelings like this, as if finding it hard to endure. What am I supposed to do with you… Eunha twisted his lips dryly.
“What did you make of what I said last time? Romance itself is nothing but a losing proposition.”
Why would there be nothing to lose? The end of romance was a breakup. The person who was your closest and most intimate existence just yesterday becomes a stranger in an instant.
What fills the spot left emptily behind are all bad feelings and countless memories. Even when the person who was the source of it all disappears, the things engraved as memories don’t disappear. Even if they fade and become buried with the passage of time, they don’t become as if they never happened. That’s because memories don’t only remain in the form of scenes existing in one’s head. For instance, things like formed personality or habits. Things like familiar sensations remaining in the body and newly acquired perspectives. Things that have been colored. Things that have become the form of a ‘person.’
In other words, it was like leaving traces on an extremely wide canvas. The ink is time. So once you draw it, you can’t erase it, and you can’t correct it either.
You could paint over it, but that would only make the failed area bigger.
The canvas is, as the saying goes, extremely wide, so if you focus on the clean surface that hasn’t been painted yet, the wrongly drawn parts fade outside your field of vision. Sometimes they completely escape your attention.
But that didn’t mean they disappeared. They couldn’t become as if they never happened in any way. You just, live like that. While trying hard to focus on the parts not yet painted. While pretending not to see your own failed portions.
Something that can’t be erased but has no value. All of that was loss and waste. There might be people who love in a form where they gain lessons and grow. But at least Eunha wasn’t one of them. Eunha’s canvas was dyed black in spots here and there with countless traces born from one person. The form of trying to forcibly erase that by rubbing it, only to have holes punctured through it, becoming like a rag.
“How many years did you date that person?”
A suddenly emotionless voice was heard. It was the first time Yeonjun had asked about Kim Jiwoon. Eunha, glancing at him, answered honestly. With that too, leaving the judgment to Yeonjun. It wasn’t a story to be concerned about.
“5 years.”
They started dating from the summer when he was twenty and it ended in the summer when he was twenty-five. How would he react? Throwing a glance to the side out of slight curiosity, Eunha was able to witness a rather peculiar sight. With a face that seemed lost in deep thought, his eyes on some distant part of the lake, his profile gradually turned reddish. Areas like his nape, earlobes, and around his cheeks.
“…Why are you turning red?”
“…What do you mean turning red, hyung?”
“You’re doing that right now by the second.”
“You must be seeing wrong. I’m not that kind of person.”
Yeonjun subtly turned his head in the opposite direction. Eunha laughed incredulously as if he’d heard the most absurd thing in the world. Not that kind of person?
“Ha… Are you serious, Yeonjun-ah? Then what’s this right now?”
“Ah, don’t do that. Don’t look, hyung.”
“You’re saying something ridiculous. What is this right now? I’ve never seen anyone in my life who blushes as easily as you.”
“Don’t tease me, hyung, ah, really…”
Following after Yeonjun, who was spinning his body around this way and that to avoid showing his face, Eunha pressed him to the end about his reddened skin. Their quarreling for a while concluded with Eunha narrowing his eyes as if letting it go and resting his arms on the railing again.
