“So, what were you thinking about?”
What on earth does dating an ex for five years have to do with the nape of his neck turning crimson? The question intensified at the response that was beyond peculiar—downright absurd. Urging an answer, he stared at Yeonjun.
“I’ll keep it a secret.”
“What? You make me curious and then… What is it? What were you thinking?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing to say.”
“Then you shouldn’t have started in the first place.”
“It’s really nothing…”
“If it’s nothing, then tell me.”
“…I just imagined what hyung would be like when dating.”
Yeonjun mumbled and pointlessly raised his arm to stroke his jawline. Eunha blinked at his cheek. What he’d be like when dating. There were so many different forms that it was difficult to narrow down what kind of feeling he meant.
“What kind of imagination?”
Yeonjun didn’t give an answer. Saying that was the real secret.
Then, as if he’d reached some conclusion on his own, he suddenly spoke. With a voice that had become more emotional.
“…I think hyung would be incredibly sweet when dating.”
“Unfortunately, not at all.”
“I’ll meet them first and then judge.”
“What do you mean meet? What are you judging…”
He let out a hollow laugh. Really, he seemed to be getting more shameless by the day.
More than that, it seemed like a confession that should have come back to him as quite a shock, but was he completely unfazed?
“Don’t you feel your feelings cooling down or anything?”
He felt the gaze turning toward him. Eunha continued speaking calmly.
“If someone told me they dated one person for five years… I think I’d hesitate a bit. I think whatever feelings I had would cool down.”
Perhaps it was a projection possible because Eunha was that very person. Because from head to toe, he was still completely dyed in Kim Jiwoon. Imagining that others too would be similarly filled.
“Doesn’t it bother you? Something like that.”
Whether it didn’t bother him, or whether his feelings weren’t strong enough to be bothered by it.
“Of course it bothers me.”
“……”
“How could it not?”
It was a concise admission.
“But… there’s nothing I can change about it. Even if I’m bothered, nothing will change, and if I hold onto it, only I’ll suffer and there’s nothing particularly useful about it.”
I just accept it as it is. Yeonjun mumbled indifferently and added. That actually, he has a lot of questions for hyung. Things he wants to say, and thoughts he only has inside his head.
“But right now, hyung and I are nothing to each other.”
It was a quote that sounded like it was picking at Eunha’s statement.
“I think I should be making an effort so we can become something to each other, right? Meddling and asking questions comes after that.”
Yeonjun said playfully while looking at Eunha. Eunha awkwardly formed a smile as if responding to it and looked down somewhere at the pitch-black lake. At times like these, he felt uncomfortable and difficult.
He couldn’t define what ‘times like these’ meant. How should he put it… When he saw him brazenly scheming to make a move, he’d just snort without thinking much of it, but when he faced him as if he were a complete stranger, it felt like something unknowable was happening inside.
“What did you like about them?”
He asked readily. It was a question whose reason was unclear, so he hesitated for a moment. Would he want to hear such a thing? The good points of the person his crush liked. It seemed like it would be a rather unpleasant topic for him.
It wasn’t particularly pleasant for Eunha either. He said glumly.
“…What I liked about them—I don’t want to talk about it now.”
Because I liked it then. Because that’s the past. A past he couldn’t reminisce about.
It was just memory. Impressions that had nothing to do with his will, not engraved but carved. He didn’t want to speak of those memories stuck like sticky tar, saying ‘it was good’ as if reminiscing. Yeonjun nodded as if understanding.
“Hyung.”
“What.”
“Then tell me your ideal type.”
Ah. So that’s why. Eunha nodded to himself and fell into thought for a moment. What answer would be good—he fumbled through his mind and then opened his mouth calmly.
“Someone older.”
It was an answer full of deliberate intent. Immediately, a short, husky “Ah” sounded. Looking to the side, he was making a face that showed he’d been visibly struck. As if his stomach hurt.
“That’s not something I can do anything about…”
It was quite a pitiful appearance, but Eunha didn’t care.
“What else?”
When he asked again, after brief deliberation he spat out again.
“Someone who’s good at cooking.”
Yeonjun fell silent for a moment. As if understanding the meaning of those words. Then he let out a faint snicker. As if interest had been piqued.
“Yes. And?”
There was a hint of laughter at the end. Why do you keep asking? Eunha raised his eyebrows crookedly and leaned sideways against the railing, looking at Yeonjun. As if telling him to listen carefully.
“Someone who’s good at driving. A best driver.”
This time Yeonjun laughed with his throat.
“More.”
He made him look forward to what came next again and again. As if telling him to keep talking. Like a test, like a provocation.
Slightly scratched by it, Eunha began listing his ideal type with a feeling close to stubbornness. An only child. Someone who drinks well. Someone who can’t swim. Someone without a mole under their eye. Someone without a mole on the inside of their wrist. Heights starting from 187 aren’t great. Too tall.
Ahaha, Yeonjun buried his deeply bowed face in his palm and laughed.
Whether he did or not. Eunha didn’t stop. Leaning against the railing, he continued speaking without pause. Someone who can’t catch bugs. Someone who eats spicy food well. Someone who went to a regular kindergarten, not an art kindergarten. Someone who’s never gotten seven stitches in their knee from falling off a bicycle as a kid. Someone whose family home has a dog. Cats won’t do. Definitely a dog. And…
“Hyung.”
It was a low call. As if it were a power button that turned off the sounds of the world, silence descended all at once. Eunha gently raised his head and looked up at Yeonjun. Without knowing when he’d approached, he was standing facing Eunha. Close enough to feel his body heat. Their eyes met, full of laughter, and his smooth lips curved pleasantly.
“How did you remember all of that?”
It was a voice crumbling softly with joy, and he gripped both sides of Eunha. Eunha held his breath and stepped back at a dead end. The moment he hesitated slightly, the railing of the walkway pressed against his lower back.
Yeonjun lowered his eyelids further. A deeper smile spread across his lips. Like someone immersed in some impression that became more delightful the more he savored it.
A tickling breath leaked faintly between his lips.
It was quiet, and the wind fluttered around them.
The moment their eyes met, silence swept in. Silence sweeping in—what a strange thing.
With his gaze held straight, Yeonjun smiled subtly.
Soon he tilted his head down at an angle. Eunha clenched his fists.
“Don’t.”
He pronounced it clearly. Yeonjun stopped and pulled his head back very slightly. The laughter that had been faint returned to his eyes that had grown calm. Still like someone completely immersed in that pleasant impression. Or like someone who had guessed the expected words.
He knew he wouldn’t come any closer than this. But Eunha spoke again, giving weight to each syllable.
“Don’t, Yeonjun-ah.”
What. It was a warning where even he himself didn’t know the subject. Perhaps it was a warning where he didn’t even know who it was directed at.
“Hyung.”
Yeonjun still had a smile hanging on. As if wanting to convey some meaning, he held eye contact for a long time, then slowly lowered his head while smiling. Pressing his forehead firmly against Eunha’s shoulder, he buried it as if nuzzling and murmured.
“I’m telling you now.”
“……”
“Hyung will definitely come to like me.”
