A Perfectly Normal Romance Chapter 5.1 - Broken Heart

“Jio.”

One day, Hyun softly called Jio’s name. They were sitting across from each other at the table in his officetel, studying for an exam. Jio’s slightly bent neck, exposed by his bowed head, straightened, and his messy hair ruffled. His slightly puffy double eyelids looked cute, and Hyun had to clench his jaw to suppress a smile.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of style do you like?”

“What kind?”

“Your ideal type of woman.”

“…Suddenly?”

“Just curious. Everyone talks about it. I’ve never heard you mention it.”

It was the spring of their twentieth year. While every other guy around them talked about nothing else except when they were eating, these two had never had such a conversation.

Shin Jio’s drowsiness slowly faded with each blink of his slightly swollen eyelids. His now clear eyes wandered for a moment before he answered casually.

“I guess I like the same type. Like Yoo Soyoung.”

“Ah, the nation’s first love?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you like her?”

“She’s innocent.”

He mumbled the reason with a stunning lack of enthusiasm. It was the kind of name seven out of ten men you stopped on the street would probably give. Hyun, feeling playful, asked again.

“Another one.”

“Another one? Lee Chaemin.”

“Isn’t Lee Chaemin a different style from Yoo Soyoung?”

“She’s pretty. And she looks cute when she smiles.”

This time, it was a name the remaining two men would likely bring up. The reasoning was even simpler, a compliment so common it was almost generic.

Hyun, who had been quietly listening, showed a strange expression along with a bland reply of ‘I see.’ Shin Jio, who had been silently observing his expression, moved his lips.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

Hyun, thrown by the question, just spouted whatever came to mind.

“I prefer someone tall over short.”

“Ah.”

“I’d like it if she listens to me well and is kind.”

“You should be like that first.”

“I’d like her to stay close by my side.”

“What else.”

“A campus couple would be good for that, I guess.”

“Right. I see.”

Hyun thought to himself. Jio. You said you like the nation’s first love, Yoo Soyoung, the most, and that you like Lee Chaemin, the idol we see most often these days, so why do your eyes waver like that every time I list my ideal type in detail?

“That’s really specific.”

Why did his voice sound so dejected?

“Why? I think it’s better than someone who only likes superstars.”

“No. It’s not that.”

Shin Jio trailed off, then mumbled in a voice lower than usual. Hyun leaned in and asked again.

“What was that?”

“Seeing how specific it is. You must have someone in mind.”

Lee Hyun, who had been grinning, was momentarily at a loss for words. Jio grew even quieter, as if he found some kind of sincerity in the silence. A stillness fell between the two of them.

Those words had poked at a point Hyun had never considered. When you picture a specific ideal type, is that the process of drawing out your true feelings? Hmm. I just started listing things off as a joke. He tilted his head slightly, the tip of his nose looking 괜히 sullen as he purposefully glanced elsewhere. Hyun impulsively added one more thing.

“And someone cute.”

“Okay.”

“I said I like cute.”

“I said okay.”

“Why are you answering so cutely?”

“Hey.”

At the suddenly low voice, Hyun narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t joke around.”

Shin Jio, who had abruptly snapped, looked like he knew he’d gotten angry for no reason. He shot up from his seat as if pushing the desk and faced Lee Hyun, who was still sitting. Just for a moment, then he pushed his chair back slightly, extricated himself, and strode across the room. His hurried steps took him into the bathroom.

Even after hearing the clumsily closing door, Lee Hyun, who had been staring at the empty spot, slowly leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Tick, tock. From somewhere, the small, tickling sound of a second hand reached his ears. A moment later, when Hyun opened his eyes, the remnants of a smile were still on his smooth face.

It was all a joke, but he’s actually cute.

That night. Shin Jio, despite living a stone’s throw away, had dragged his feet, complaining it was a hassle, and ended up curling up on the floor below the bed. From his slightly higher vantage point, Hyun watched Jio’s back, visible as a faint shadow, for a long time.

His build looked lanky, like a willow tree arching over a waterfront; his limbs were long, and his hair was cute. In particular, on his legs, folded long like tree branches, the pale color of his ankle bones stood out whitely. Should I make him sleep up here next time? Musing over such thoughts, Lee Hyun only fell asleep in the early hours of the dawn.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Summer vacation. Hyun enjoyed exercising, but he had no hobby of weaving through crowds of people under the sweltering sun. However, he figured there was no reason to throw away the rock festival tickets he’d happened upon that summer vacation.

“Wow. Isn’t that a ticket for this year’s festival?”

“Yeah.”

“You bought it?”

“I just kind of got it.”

Shin Jio wasn’t the type to be interested in stories about how someone in the family had connections to the organizers or sponsors. So Hyun didn’t mention it. Just as he’d expected, Shin Jio showed little interest in the ticket’s origin, his brown eyes simply sparkling.

“Who are you going with?”

“Dunno.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Haven’t thought about it yet.”

His eyes lingered for a moment on the ticket as it disappeared back into the wallet, before he finally paid for his own can of cola and stepped aside. Lee Hyun, enjoying his intrigued expression, popped open his can. After taking a sip of his drink, he glanced to the side again. Considering how proactive he usually was, one would think he’d say he wanted to go, but he had an indecisive side when it really mattered.

“Wanna go together?”

Making him have to say it like this. And then, unable to hide his delight, his mouth would break into a broad smile. As if infected by that smile, Lee Hyun’s face also took on a bright, smiling color.

It was a time when everything was new. We’re twenty. It feels like it would be okay to try an adventure like this at least once. It was the first time he’d had such a thought, and for a moment, Lee Hyun found his own feelings a bit overwhelming.

“If the others say they’re coming, are you going to let them tag along?”

“Why. You don’t want them to?”

“Do you?”

Wanting to monopolize the moment his heat-flushed face grew even redder at those words, Hyun leaned in close in front of Jio, tilting his head. Lee Hyun remembered it clearly—the halo of light and the sound of the moment his wandering eyes blinked. He had a good memory, and he was the type who couldn’t forget particularly intense memories even if he wanted to.

At the last moment, Hyun pretended not to notice and turned his head away from Jio’s expression as he blinked, his mouth set in a slightly angry-looking line. He isn’t easy. And that’s what made it more fun.

With that feeling, he was the one who ended up confessing.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

The season was turning from autumn to winter. The memory of that winter was one that left Lee Hyun with not a single shred of coldness. Since they had started dating, back when it was still warm, his lover who would shove a camera in his face started getting closer and closer, until he was practically crushing him as he snapped away.

“Why are you taking pictures again today?”

“Just because.”

Shin Jio, lost in his own thoughts, lowered the camera and brought his face close. In his eyes, shiny like a lens, only Hyun’s face was reflected, and Hyun found it fascinating.

“Hyun.”

“Yeah.”

“You know you’re handsome, right?”

How should I answer this? In search of the most honest answer, Hyun took a moment to choose his words.

“Sometimes?”

At that, Shin Jio let out a small laugh and, with a sigh, lifted the camera again.

“Well, it’s impossible not to know.”

Jio usually seemed to pay little attention to his own appearance and such things, but he had a knack for suddenly throwing out questions like this that made the other person’s heart swell. By then, kissing and tangling tongues had become nothing, so he held Jio close as he rubbed against him, his face flushed with heat. Hyun lightly kissed his plumped, crushed lips again and sat up properly on the sofa where he had been slouched.

“Have you ever snowboarded?”

“No.”

“Let’s go.”

“Is it okay if I can’t do it?”

“You can learn there.”

“Will one day be enough?”

“I’m thinking of booking it for 3 nights and 4 days.”

“Is it that hard?”

“Not really, but I thought you might be tired since it’s your first time.”

Moving around on a snowy field with all the gear on drained your stamina twice as fast. And if they booked a resort, there might be other, more draining activities. At the suggestion, made with such calculations in mind, Shin Jio had nodded, already pulling out a calendar with a thrilled expression.

Jio said he had other plans that night and left. Hyun picked up the photos he had left behind, one by one. Everyone knows their own face. But in the photos left behind, there was a version of himself that revealed his emotions more nakedly than the face Hyun recognized as his own. The contours of his face, his features, his aura, even the tiny, fleeting expressions of his daily life—Hyun was able to get to know himself anew, in detail, through those photos.

And through the eyes of his partner, who loved all of it so dearly, he felt as if he had become a new person. You know you’re handsome, right? Hyun recalled the question again. Lately, he knew it especially well. Thanks to someone who captured it for him, photo by photo.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

The number of photos he received grew, one by one. One day a silhouette, another day his back. Or a sliver of golden light draped over his face, relaxed in sleep. Looking at them, Hyun came to a point where he had to admit his lover’s talent. Shin Jio was definitely good at taking pictures. Even to his untrained eye. That must be why that damn club wouldn’t let him go.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Winter. Shin Jio’s claim that he had never skied before was not a lie. He wasn’t just a beginner; he had no aptitude for it at all. A snowboard, which required both feet to be strapped in, was out of the question. They equipped themselves with skis, which were relatively easier, and went up the lift. Even while coming down the beginner’s slope, Hyun had to hold Jio’s trembling hands and lead him down backward.

“Aren’t, aren’t you in danger? You can’t see behind you. Hyun. Behind you. Look back.”

“I’m fine, so just remember this feeling for now.”

“I’m fine, so you!”

Fine, my ass. After leading him for the entire day without a moment to let go of his hands, Hyun watched Jio and laughed for a long while before giving up. It was impossible not to laugh watching him tremble all day like a baby swallow with a broken leg.

Soaked and shivering, they returned to the room. As Jio was throwing off his wet gloves and clothes, it was Hyun who grabbed him.

“Let’s shower together.”

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

“Jio.”

“Yeah.”

“When I asked you to sleep over, did you know this would happen?”

At those words, Shin Jio, who was lying there groaning with a feverish face, let out a small laugh and tapped Hyun’s chest with his fist.

“How could I not know?”

“Right.”

The trip to the resort proceeded just as Hyun had planned. They skied on the first day of their arrival, and from the next day on, they didn’t even step out of the room. The evening of the third day. White snow was scattering down as if being sprinkled onto the slopes, which had been covered with artificial snow. Hyun, who had dozed off for a moment, reached out a hand to embrace the body that should have been clinging to his side, then opened his eyes.

The spot where the person he’d been holding should have been was empty. When he sat up, he saw a figure curled up in front of the large glass window, legs drawn together. He’d found and put on a bathrobe as if he were cold, but the nape of his exposed neck still looked chilly. Hyun took the blanket, walked over, and sat down next to him. Jio lifted his head from under the blanket that had suddenly been draped over him and smiled.

“You should have slept more.”

“You too.”

“It was snowing.”

“So it is.”

The first snow of that year, which had been so sparse, was now pouring down as if to cover everything. Hyun wrapped an arm around the body leaning against him and gently closed his eyes. It created the illusion that the whole world was being buried in snow.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

“Jio. I saw you sent the team project file at 11:45 PM yesterday.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“11:45 PM is still yesterday. What’s wrong?”

But why was he so busy, even after finishing the team project assignment so close to the deadline? Hyun was curious. When he suggested they get lunch, Jio had grabbed his hand and dragged him to the school cafeteria, ignoring all the decent food available outside. As he watched the fidgety sight of Jio rubbing his eyes while quietly sipping his soup, Hyun thought about Shin Jio’s schedule as he knew it. Besides this team project, there shouldn’t have been anything major to keep him busy. His part-time job was on the weekends.

Shin Jio, holding his phone while eating, was constantly exchanging messages with someone. His attitude was so frantic that he barely managed to take another spoonful of rice. Hyun watched him quietly for a moment before asking.

“Who is it?”

“The club.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve already delegated work to the underclassmen?”

“Yeah. I gave them the work, but we still have to do things together… and there’s painting to do at the studio we got outside.”

“Painting?”

“Yeah. Just a little on the wall. Sungjae-hyung said he’s buying the paint.”

“I see.”

Shin Jio knew it had been a mistake to mention that name. He snuck a glance at Hyun, then put down his phone and started picking at the side dishes again, focusing on his meal. Hyun also picked up his chopsticks again. Jio had seemed busy once or twice lately, so he’d thought nothing of it, but it looked like that damn club wasn’t just staying within the school but was now stirring up trouble outside.

Lee Hyun clicked his tongue softly, so as not to make a sound, and was about to say something, but then…

“You, that investment competition you entered, what’s the schedule for that?”

“I’m working on it. I’ll be a bit busy next week building the portfolio and writing the startup proposal.”

“Oh. I think I’ll be a bit busy next week too.”

Hyun held back what he was about to say at Jio’s words, as Jio asked with no hidden intention of trying to align their schedules. He knew it wasn’t right for him to meddle in the other’s domain, where they were engrossed due to their different tastes and thoughts. But Jio, who had clearly noticed his mood, pouted his lips slightly and grumbled.

“Why do you hate my club activities so much?”

“That club should’ve known when to let you go.”

It was a time when Shin Jio would still let that excuse slide without arguing.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Hyun thought about it later. Should I have made it a point of conflict from the very beginning and tried to stop him from doing it altogether? Thinking such thoughts, he stood up out of frustration and glanced at the clock. 2:15 AM. It was an hour when the image of the laptop monitor he had been staring at just moments before flickered in his vision like an afterimage.

The tension running from the nape of his neck was tickling the ends of his nerves as if gnawing at them. He leaned against the terrace and looked down at the street in front of the university campus, where darkness had begun to settle quietly. Just as irritation was about to surge, the phone in his hand rang. His eyes, checking the number, shot up once before returning to their place. It was his father, who had just entered the country. When he replied, the phone rang this time. He slowly brought the phone to his ear.

—What were you doing?

“Homework, sir.”

—You’re working hard at this hour.

“Not at all.”

It wasn’t false modesty. There were no overdue assignments, no conference presentations, no extracurriculars. He was just killing time, rereading articles or devouring op-eds and editorials. And even after all that, he was suffering from the phantom pain of his nerves feeling like they were being slowly gnawed away while waiting for Shin Jio, who still hadn’t contacted him.

He knew his own personality—he wasn’t satisfied unless whatever he wanted was right in front of him when he wanted it. He knew that personality brought on a slight obsession, but he also knew it was a disposition too far gone to be fixed.

—I’ll have Secretary Kang send you a list of some short, helpful activities. Take a look and pick one.

“Yes, sir.”

Until he hung up the short call with a “Good night” and went back inside, there was no word from Shin Jio. He’s probably lost in his own world, engrossed in what he’s doing. He pressed on his throbbing temples, then returned to his bed and flopped down. He was at his limit. He forced his eyes shut, but the urge to run out and find him flared up several times. Then, beep… beep… beep… the sound of a door lock being slowly pressed echoed from a distance.

Hyun placed his left arm over his eyes and kept them closed. The presence entering the room was clumsy, knocking things over, but moved slowly, a palpable effort to be quiet. Soon, he felt a presence squirming its way in beside him. The familiar scent of shampoo mixed with the smell of skin washed over him.

Listening to the even breathing, Hyun slightly lowered his arm and glanced down. Beside him, Shin Jio had fallen asleep just as he was, lying on his side, his hand clutching the hem of Hyun’s shirt. He turned his body slightly toward him and closed his heavy eyes. He was tired.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you.”

What was the decisive thing he had said that finally made those words come out of Shin Jio’s mouth? Hyun always looks back on that time. Was it because he asked if it wasn’t taking up too much of his time? Was it because he said it was about time to start deciding on a career path? Was it because he’d casually asked what he was planning to do? There were so many points he wanted to go back to.

Facing the already-spilled milk, Hyun shook his head.

“No.”

“I know that to you, it might look like I’m not doing anything that builds up my resume, not doing any extracurriculars.”

“Jio.”

“But I wish you wouldn’t.”

Hyun had always reined himself in for having such thoughts. It’s not your place to meddle. You’re dating now, but still. Around that time, as Hyun faced his own career path and reality, he would sometimes have such thoughts during the dawns he spent waiting. Maybe we’re not a good match. And that initial, light thought began to creep up and grab him by the ankles. You were just going to give it a try. Don’t try to meddle unnecessarily.

Jio rubbed his eyes over and over again. His blinking eyes were shaking painfully.

“When you look at me like that, it feels like I’ve really become that kind of person.”

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

We’re very different, Hyun thought. Even when they voiced their thoughts and tried to understand each other’s worlds, the gap between them seemed far too wide. The times they woke up, the times of day they were energetic, and their interests were all different. The types of books they chose, the movies they watched, were different. But it didn’t seem right to point out every single one of those differences and try to force them to match.

Because.

Here, Hyun let out a long sigh by himself and clutched his forehead, which was throbbing with a headache.

That’s why he had thought they should break up. The thought that should have brought relief instead made his chest feel unbearably tight. Was it not the right answer?

Hyun went down to the convenience store and bought a bottle of soju. The part-timer, who remembered Hyun for always buying similar things, glanced at his face for a moment at the unfamiliar, solitary item. Seeing his deadly serious expression, the part-timer had guessed at the reason on their own as they scanned the barcode.

Holding the soju, not even bothering to put it in a plastic bag, Hyun walked through the neighborhood. The destination that came to mind at that moment was the local playground. Last time they’d had a bit of an argument, Jio had run off by himself and moped under the slide in this very playground. He himself seemed to have forgotten all about it the next day once he sobered up.

He considered sitting on the swing, but it seemed he wouldn’t be able to squeeze his large frame onto the small seat. Hyun scanned his surroundings once before perching on the low step under the slide. And just like that, he opened the soju and took a gulp. As soon as he drank it, an indescribably unpleasant smell of alcohol rushed up. He scowled at the burning in his stomach and gripped his forehead with his free hand.

It was awful. As expected, he couldn’t understand this either. Really, Jio and I seem so different. In a fit of anger, he took another swig of soju. One more time, just as his eyes were starting to well up, a sharp voice shattered the atmosphere.

“Is that Lee Hyun over there?”

With his face already contorted from the headache, Hyun glared at the person who had called his name. He never dreamed the other person would interpret his expression as him blubbering his eyes out.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Irrational. After much contemplation, Hyun came to that conclusion. This was simply wrong. The reason he couldn’t attach any other reason or excuse must be because of that. He didn’t want to be dragged around by such an emotion forever. Feeling a first, intense emotion for someone, clinging to it, being unable to forget it. Turning back. Lingering. He didn’t want to be the protagonist of that kind of story.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Breaking up was by no means a relief. Hyun admitted it. There was a time when they were happy because they had each other. Before that time had fully passed, they became each other’s weaknesses, and when they could go no further from there, it ended.

It ended, and the world lost its color. At his words “let’s break up,” Shin Jio had burst into tears. And yet Hyun, the one who had sent the crying guy away after consoling him, sat on his bed the next day and stared blankly ahead. Love and breakups were supposed to be matters of reason and brain chemistry. So why on earth did his chest feel so suffocating?

Every time Jio came to find him and cry, Lee Hyun, though he couldn’t say it, cried too. He couldn’t bring himself to cry in front of him, so he would cry after. Not to the extent of sobbing like someone else; it was more like lying down on his own for a long time, wiping away the uselessly gathered wetness, and then getting on with his tasks.

Every time, he thought. It’ll get better. Everyone said it gets better. Around that time, unable to bear his symptoms, Hyun had even searched the internet. Symptoms after a breakup. Among the results, one study with no official credibility said: The stress of a breakup is of the same intensity as the stress experienced during war. Hyun decided to think of this as a war.

He thought about going back now that he had lost everything. Each time, he thought with a cool head. He couldn’t let his life be held hostage by a moody idiot who threw away this good environment and these good conditions to cling only to a camera. But that idiot was someone who was desperate to capture Hyun’s face first with every camera he brought.

“You’ve been drinking again.”

Hyun supported Jio’s heavy, sagging body and helped him up. With each step, his body swayed so precariously that Hyun found it a nuisance and simply pulled his shoulder to make him lean on him instead. He also thought that the shape of his ear, peeking out from between his hair, was still pretty. He brought his lips close to it and whispered.

“Jio.”

“…”

“Shin Jio.”

“…”

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

That was also a promise Hyun made to himself. It has to be okay. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up the stairs. In that moment, he felt that the waist under his arm seemed to have gotten a little thinner. Shin Jio, who had been moving his feet, suddenly lifted his head and mumbled something. Hyun brought his ear closer to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“I’m… not going to regret it.”

He had expected him to say he was thirsty or felt like throwing up at most, so this was unexpected. Drenched in the smell of alcohol, the words came out haltingly, and Hyun listened intently.

“I’m going to cling on with all my might… and not regret it.”

With those last words, he hung his head again. Hyun looked at the sharply bent neck and the round top of his head before starting to walk again.

That’s a good idea. That’s why I came to get you, so I won’t have any regrets either.

On the way back from dropping Jio off, Hyun trudged down the stairs alone, taking in the night view as the elevation gradually lowered. All the places they had gone to together were spread out before him. Cheonggyecheon, Namsan, Itaewon, Hongdae, the Han River, the observatory, the restaurants in front of the school, every nook and cranny of the campus, lecture halls, the library, the rooftop, the officetel, and the streets. Hyun remembered it all. He had reviewed it again and again while looking at the photos Jio had given him. He knew that forgetting all of this would not be easy.

After that, Shin Jio went through a long, long series of farewell parties and left for the military a little before Hyun. Hyun walked up the old, crumbling stairs he had always worried about, alone. And after taking in the memories spread out below his feet one last time, he left.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Age 25. As Hyun was checking the PowerPoint for the next day’s presentation, a senior he’d seen a few times at the academic society approached him and asked.

“Hyun. Do you want to be set up with someone?”

Hyun had already mastered the art of showing just enough interest to not be rude. Keeping his hands moving, he asked back in a voice even more polite than usual.

“Is she someone I absolutely must know?”

Hyun knew full well that the question was deliberately ambiguous.

“Who in this world is someone you absolutely must know?”

“There are.”

“Oh. Right. She’s a very important person. A year younger than you, do you remember the girl from the English Department, a senior, who was new at last week’s society after-party? The one who wore a red dress.”

“Hmm. I don’t remember.”

“Her family is no joke either. I heard her father served as the chairman of some soccer sports association.”

“Is that so.”

The senior, after a few more attempts at persuasion, eventually gave up in the face of the lukewarm response and left with a “see you later,” opening the seminar room door and exiting. Hyun rotated his wrist once and erased the recent event from his memory. He was still in no mood to meet anyone.

His female peers had started coming to school less frequently as they began internships and job preparations. That evening, Hyun briefly met with Seungpyo and Geonjung to receive some materials. The two, saying they hadn’t had dinner, brought gimbap and cup noodles and laid them out on the table. Hyun looked at them and asked casually.

“Who have you guys been hanging out with lately?”

“Us? Hmm. Just hanging out.”

Instead of Seungpyo, who looked bewildered, Geonjung, who was unwrapping the foil from his gimbap, answered what Hyun was asking with precision, his voice impassive.

“Jio hardly comes to school. The thing he was doing that split off from the club, he turned it into a startup.”

Hyun stared at Geonjung’s face, which clearly showed he knew what had happened without being told. For some time now, he had been acting like he knew something, but the two of them never brought up the past.

Seungpyo, chewing on his gimbap, said cluelessly.

“You guys fought, didn’t you.”

“No.”

“What do you mean you didn’t fight? You two used to be attached at the hip, and now you’re asking us what the other is up to.”

And then Seungpyo delivered the news that Hyun least wanted to know about Jio.

“He’s busy, but I heard he’s seeing someone.”

“Who would Shin Jio be seeing?”

“Uh. I don’t know either. But it’s probably someone from another school? Or maybe not. Did he say he met them through work?”

At those words, Hyun slowly turned his eyes. The moment he saw that Geonjung wasn’t denying it and was just looking at him with a “what are you looking at” expression, he clenched his fists tightly.

He bombed the presentation the next day.

With Seungpyo and Geonjung in front of him, who had come over suggesting they order chicken instead of gimbap today, Hyun forced strength into his eyelids, which were trembling with fatigue, and said.

“Shin Jio. Make it so not a single syllable of that name enters my ears.”

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Lee Hyun thought. Meticulously rewatching this video was by no means some lingering attachment to a past relationship. The only problem was that an overwhelming portion of his life’s record just so happened to have been filmed by his ex-boyfriend. That was a problem… but it was something that couldn’t be undone now.

On an evening at the end of the year, after the video had finished, he was sinking into a stupor, listening to the sound of a clock as the second hand moved one tick at a time. It was an utterly incomprehensible feeling. The floor felt too close, and the ceiling felt like it was pressing down on his body. From that swamp of a feeling, Hyun pressed the space bar on the laptop resting on his knees and replayed the video. In an instant, the room was filled with a bright voice that didn’t suit the season.

“There’s nothing filmed from the end of the year.”

Why not? As he thought about it, he pressed the knuckle of his thumb into his throbbing head and leaned his body to the side to lie down. He remembered they’d been too busy fooling around to have time to film. He wondered if it was because they had fought, but that wasn’t it either.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Age 26. That day, Lee Hyun put on a movie he could never understand in the past. It was a movie he used to watch with Jio. Unlike Hyun, who always chose whatever movie was popular at the time, Jio would always put on the same movie and mutter the lines he had memorized over and over.

He even cried at the same part every time. Hyun couldn’t understand that at all. Around the time the movie’s end credits rolled, he would sniffle and mumble that the movie, which had become a word-of-mouth hit with five million viewers, seemed to resemble this movie. Hyun had thought that was a load of crap, too.

Hyun sometimes thought that if he could understand this movie, he might miraculously change and be able to understand Shin Jio. And then he could acknowledge his own mistakes. He didn’t know what he would do after that, but still.

Still, over the years, there was one thing he had come to admit. That breakup was the worst mistake of his life. And he wished. I’ll admit it and humbly reflect, so please let me forget now and meet someone new. He was so exhausted that he’d even had such thoughts. The reflected blue light from the cinema beam illuminated Hyun’s pale face and jet-black hair, making them look a little gloomy.

Even after having such proactive thoughts, reality remained the same. It was too pathetic for him to contact him again now, and Shin Jio seemed to be living well and eating well. He even seemed to be changing the guys he was dating quite well. His company seemed to be doing just fine, too. Fuck. I must’ve been crazy.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Age 27. That day, a slightly different thought came to mind. Unlike the days when he always tried to understand Jio, that day he thought about himself as seen by Jio. ‘You’re like a blockbuster movie.’ What on earth did that mean?

In the hours close to dawn, Hyun turned his car around and went to a movie theater. He watched a certain film that, thanks to being a blockbuster hit, had showtimes packed tightly at every hour.

2:00 AM. The movie ends, and the backs of the heads of the people leaving sparsely move in a line below the screen. He stood up from his seat at the staff’s announcement signaling the end of the screening. As he walked down the long, long corridor, he thought. The blockbuster, with every sequence controlled so that not a single gap was visible, flowed like water, but in the end, it left him with a somewhat rambling impression. He felt like he could now vaguely understand what Jio had said to him. Was he insulting me?

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Age 28. Lee Hyun’s tolerance for alcohol had grown quite a bit. He had reached the point where he could open a bottle of wine at home alone on New Year’s Eve and stay up all night. After turning off his phone, which was piled high with messages from “what are you up to” texts to work-related contacts and questions from people, he settled on the sofa. By now, even settling into the posture was familiar.

Leaning back at an angle, he pressed the remote. Hyun, who had been pressing the buttons firmly, hesitated for a moment before playing the overly emotional movie he still didn’t understand. After the screen went dark and then lit up again, the movie he had practically memorized scene by scene began to play.

He picked up the wine bottle and, without any finesse, poured it to the brim of his glass. He lifted the teetering, sloshing glass and drained it. Then he rolled his eyes to the side. He wasn’t in good condition today. His head seemed to hurt a little, and it felt like there was a certain emotion he was particularly unable to bear. Useless thoughts also came to mind. He shook his head for a moment, then pressed his palm against his forehead once before taking it away. And he poured more wine.

When you watched this movie, you would snack on those hard, brown crackers that I never understood the taste of. You would laugh heartily at the unfunny comedy scenes, as if deliberately letting yourself trip and fall. And you’d tremble by yourself at scenes designed to be startling, then laugh.

And because of you like that, I laughed.

Hyun almost lost his grip for a moment on the neck of the bottle he was about to open. When the light from the movie flowing over his blank expression dimmed again, he seemed to come to his senses for a moment and pulled out the cork.

Now, understanding the movie no longer mattered. He finally remembered. How much Shin Jio had loved watching this movie. And how much he, who had watched him, had… loved it.

The next day, Hyun, waking up in the middle of a trashed living room, stood in front of the sink with staggering steps. He was about to mindlessly pass by his own reflection when he stopped and faced it directly. His eyes were swollen. That was a first.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Age 29.

So in the end.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

It wasn’t that he was actively avoiding his college connections; he was simply too busy to have the time to meet them. In the midst of that, Hyun finally made time and booked a table at a Korean beef restaurant. And he called Geonjung and Seungpyo and brought it up casually, as if it were nothing.

“Shin Jio. Is he doing well?”

The staff member who had been grilling the meat on the brazier finished up and left. Geonjung and Seungpyo, who were just about to pick up their chopsticks, simultaneously revealed similar expressions on their different faces. It was an attitude that said they had heard something they shouldn’t have.

“All of a sudden?”

“Why? Am I not allowed to ask?”

“No, it’s just that you used to storm out whenever his name was even mentioned!”

Seungpyo, who was voicing his grievance, quickly asked his question, afraid he would lose the chance to speak at the angle of Hyun’s rising eyebrows.

“But why all of a sudden?”

“That company. A request for a proposal came to us, and his name wasn’t on it.”

It was a good excuse, as he’d been meaning to ask about it sometime anyway. Hyun had first tried searching things like social media that he could check himself, but Jio was surprisingly inactive. The latest update was over a year old, which said it all. And even that was a picture of some tree branch with not a sliver of his face visible. Hyun’s assumption that he would be active on social media because he liked photos and videos was spectacularly wrong.

Just as his prediction was wrong, Jio’s current situation was also a far cry from what Hyun had expected.

“Because he was taking care of his father.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“His father collapsed from a cerebral hemorrhage. He was going back and forth for a while taking care of him, then he quit and moved back home. He’s back now, but I think he’s probably working on filming projects elsewhere.”

“Why would he quit just because his father collapsed?”

As Seungpyo shrugged at Hyun’s raised voice, Geonjung cut in.

“Don’t think of it ‘like that’ this time.”

“‘Like what’?”

His tone was already accusatory, and Hyun consciously controlled his breathing.

“Why did you give up? Don’t say it like that. Jio had a really hard time too.”

Lee Geonjung’s cigarette, which he had lit after leaving the restaurant first, burned down. Hyun, standing beside him, slowly moved his hands to light his own. He put it to his lips and said nothing. Geonjung scanned the unusually grave expression on Hyun, who stood beside him with his arms crossed, and said calmly.

“You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t.”

Not at all. Hyun thought about what kind of time Jio must have gone through while he himself was wallowing in self-pity, trying to understand him. The image of him giving up everything he was doing to help his collapsed family member and turning away. The feeling in his heart when he quit the work he loved so much he would pull all-nighters at the studio and trudge home at dawn.

For a moment, Hyun’s face contorted as his heart clenched painfully. The phenomenon he couldn’t understand as a child—why thoughts in his head made his chest hurt—was still the same.

“It wasn’t that Jio wanted to leave at first, either. The company was a son of a bitch.”

“He was working with people he knew, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. The club president from back then and a junior who followed Jio. The three of them were co-CEOs, but the other two ganged up and pushed him out.”

Hyun couldn’t understand those words.

“Lee Sungjae. He was the president, right?”

“Right. That person.”

“That bastard who stuck to Jio since he was twenty and started the studio with him.”

“That’s right.”

“How could that bastard push Jio out?”

Part of the reason Hyun had called it a waste of time to Jio back when they were younger was the structure of what was happening at the studio. Most of the work was Jio’s share, and it was impossible to tell what the other humans were doing besides running their mouths or making a fuss while creating shoddy documents and presentation materials and taking all the credit.

Ha. Hyun sucked in a breath. This shouldn’t have happened. Of course, the world is full of sons of bitches who all look out for their own share and try to snatch away others’ shares… but while he himself might be the leader of those sons of bitches, in the world where Shin Jio lived, Shin Jio shouldn’t have to encounter such things. It just shouldn’t happen.

Geonjung, seeing his grave attitude, tried to change the subject.

“Jio was super annoyed, saying that even if he didn’t want to hear about you, all sorts of people kept giving him updates.”

“Are you picking a fight with me right now?”

“It’s just fascinating. I thought you’d never see each other again for the rest of your lives.”

Geonjung trailed off, scratching the side of his nose, then spoke again.

“No, wait. Seeing how you both cared about each other like that, I did think you’d probably see each other again.”

Geonjung flicked his cigarette into a trash can, dusted off his hands, and said this. Hyun, who had been glaring at the long plume of rising smoke, put the cigarette back to his lips and took a drag. The tips of his fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.

What had happened to Shin Jio without his knowledge. And Hyun was still captivated by the story he had heard inside the restaurant earlier. I, of all people, did that to Jio? No. How hard had he tried not to meddle like that? He may have acted like a complete ass all over the place, but not to Shin Jio. He wouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have.

He threw away the quickly burned cigarette and took out another long one, holding it in his hand. He took a deep drag, letting the nicotine swirl in his head.

In truth, Hyun was not certain about anything. Was I really that good to him? What was it about him that I disliked so much? Now, all he could remember was him sobbing under a streetlight, his reddened eyelids and eyelashes soaked as he rubbed them. The image seared into his memory wasn’t any of the many good times, but that one.

“I said that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I. To Jio. Said that?”

The smoke from the chain-smoked cigarettes felt like it was churning his insides. Tightly suppressing the urge to claw at his frustrated chest, Hyun asked again. That can’t be right.

“I, I spouted that kind of crap every time he did something?”

“You were probably harder on him because you were close.”

“Ha.”

“Usually, if you don’t care, you don’t give a damn what anyone does. You just cared about him too much. So make up.”

“Make up.”

Make up. He was rolling that lukewarm word on the tip of his tongue. Just then, Seungpyo finally came out, and Hyun was about to go his own way when he suddenly turned back to face the two of them.

“Do you have plans to see our Shin Jio?”

“We all have to see each other. My wedding invitation gathering.”

Go Seungpyo answered with great cheer.

The day before that wedding invitation gathering, Hyun took out an old photo. The photos were now neatly placed in an album that sat on the lowest shelf of his study. The photos, which he had thought were many, filled two large albums once they were all organized.

The reason the album occupied the bottom shelf was simple. Seeing it often as he passed by would interfere with his work. Now, just seeing it as he passed by made Hyun want to tear out a part of his past.

Hyun knew. The reason the photos from this time could remain like this was not because he himself was so great. They were photos that came out because Jio saw him this way. At that time, Shin Jio had loved Lee Hyun dearly. Because he loved him, he could remain in this form.

If so, how do you see me now?

Lee Hyun made a decision. The moment Jio looked at him, he would see that straightforward gaze and think about what to do next. Shin Jio, who didn’t know how to hide his emotions, would surely give him an answer. About what he should do.

Would he, by any chance, come first? Hyun, who had arrived at the gathering first, sat there meaninglessly, letting the conversations wash over him. Among the words flowing past, there was one that struck his heart.

“Is Jio running late?”

“Ah. Just thinking about Jio makes me feel so bad for him. Quitting that company, what kind of hardship is this now?”

“Let’s stop. Jio hates talking about that.”

“That’s why I’m talking about it now. I can’t even say it when he comes.”

Geonjung, listening to the conversation, took out his phone to call him and gave a warning.

“I’ll ask him now when he’s coming.”

Even if he strained his ears, it was impossible to tell what Geonjung’s phone call was about because of his habit of speaking in short sentences. After waiting like that for a few minutes…

Screech. He heard the sound and an approaching presence. Hearing the presence, Hyun prepared himself. To act as nonchalant as possible, to just face him. And to acknowledge his own feelings in that moment.

A man enters, receiving a hearty welcome. The real-life Shin Jio, his cheeks a little less full than in the past and a bit more mature, stood there. Their eyes met naturally, and Shin Jio, who had frozen for a second, showed a faint curiosity and wariness. Just as he seemed to be turning his back, he turned again and opened his mouth, his voice cheerful.

Shin Jio found a seat and stood in front of Hyun. Hyun saw a faint joy in his eyes as they brushed past. Hyun hopes that seeing that joy was not just his imagination. Hoping, he averted his gaze, which had been staring intently. This was the limit.

What the hell. He’s just as pretty as ever.

Hyun bit his dry lips lightly before schooling his expression again.

There’s nothing for me to pity.

Shin Jio had defied Hyun’s expectations again today. The moment of anxiety, wondering if he would be dispirited, if there would be something pitiful in his steps as he entered, was rendered meaningless.

So I’m going to stop imagining you and interpreting you on my own.

The noise of the bustling room flows past his ears. He wanted to talk, to have a conversation. How have you been, how are you feeling, what are you thinking. Hyun, who had been gathering every little piece of emotion, turned his neck, stiff with tension, and met his gaze directly.