World Chapter 2.3

It wasn’t a matter of color, composition, or realism; what was surprising was how much the painting really resembled Taewan.

Sungjoon smiled softly.

“I’ll draw you too, later.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Even if you don’t remember us later, Hyunwoo, we’ll remember you.”

“……Hyung, where are you going?”

Sungjoon shook his head and smiled, looking so fragile and pure he might break.

While I was admiring his painting, Heo Seok opened the door and came in to tell us dinner was ready.

Sungjoon quickly hid Taewan’s painting. As he covered it with a cloth, the still-wet black paint smudged, leaving little dots. It looked like the frightened eyes of a crouching beast.

I went down to the living room with him. Taewan, who hadn’t been home since his fight with Heo Seok, was sitting at the dining table.

“Hyung!”

I called out to him, happy to see him. Taewan noticed me and flashed a wide, refreshing grin. It was as if he had jumped right out of the painting.

I wonder if he saw the painting.

I was about to ask Taewan about the painting but stopped. When Heo Seok opened the door a moment ago, Sungjoon had hidden it. After all, those two were dating, and Heo Seok wouldn’t be pleased to find out that Sungjoon had painted Taewan behind his boyfriend’s back.

It had been a while since we all gathered for a meal. It had also been a while since I sat across from Hyungjo after our kiss. Hyungjo didn’t give me a single glance, maintaining his usual silence and just eating.

I wasn’t very hungry today, having been in and out of the convenience store at school all day. Heo Seok looked at me strangely as I picked at my food. It was understandable, since I was usually the first to dive into anything Heo Seok cooked.

“I ate a lot during the day. But your cooking is still the best, hyung.”

I answered his questioning gaze and then added, remembering something.

“The sandwiches and waffles there are really delicious. It’s a café between the College of Humanities and the College of Engineering. Have you been there, hyung? Should I buy some next time? What do you guys like?”

“A café?”

“Yes, a café. It’s a little more expensive than the one in the central library, but it’s much tastier.”

“A café? What are you talking about?”

Heo Seok asked everyone, as if he couldn’t understand me at all.

“It’s next to the College of Humanities and up from the College of Engineering. They sell coffee, sandwiches, and rice burgers, you don’t know it?”

I even explained the café’s location. How if you go up a little from the athletic field on the way to the College of Humanities, it’s quite a large place on a hill. He said he had never seen such a place near the College of Humanities.

“That’s weird, that’s the right place. It’s so crowded there’s barely a place to sit.”

“There was also a senior who said he only found out our school had a College of Fine Arts building after he graduated.”

It was a plausible story, given the campus was so wide you had to take a bus to get around.

Everyone burst out laughing at Taewan’s remark, and the topic naturally shifted. I somehow felt like I had become a liar. I felt a little wronged since they all said they’d never seen it. It was a place I visited every other day, and I’d even confirmed it while coming out of the humanities building after getting lost looking for a liberal arts class…….

I glanced at Hyungjo while eating. As an Eastern History major, he went to the College of Humanities every day. But Hyungjo seemed to have no interest in the College of Humanities or any café near it. I had secretly hoped he would back me up a little, so I pouted. Hyungjo’s silence often felt too heavy and burdensome.

I asked the hyungs, as if to make sure Hyungjo heard me.

“But is this guy Hyungjo always this quiet?”

“Quiet doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s frustrating.”

“Hyungjo doesn’t talk much. He’s the quiet type.”

“He’s way beyond quiet.”

As if they had been waiting, the hyungs all chimed in at my question. Hyungjo looked completely uninterested, even though they were talking about him.

I kicked his foot under the table.

Only then did Hyungjo look at me. His gaze said, What?

“He’s cute, Hyunwoo.”

“He’s more than cute. He’s a good kid. And his ki is so pure.”

There they go again with the ki talk. At Sungjoon’s words, Heo Seok turned to look at me.

“It’s definitely pure.”

“What is?”

“It means there are no impurities.”

“Impurities?”

“Yeah.”

“What are those?”

Heo Seok stared at me intently before speaking cynically.

“Talking with you, Hyunwoo, feels like talking to a very curious child. At the end of every sentence, you ask ‘Why? Why?’ like a baby bird opening its beak. Are you always the type to ask so many questions?”

His tone was mocking my childlike nature.

“Huh? No, well……”

I laughed awkwardly and lowered my gaze. I felt dismissed. I knew Heo Seok had a tendency to be blunt, but hearing it said to my face suddenly made me feel sad and embarrassed, so I just pointlessly counted the grains of rice on my plate. Suddenly, Hyungjo kicked my foot.

“……”

“That’s revenge for earlier.”

It was the first thing Hyungjo had said at the table. The atmosphere turned awkward. Hyungjo, perhaps embarrassed, whipped his head to the other side.

“What the hell did Hyungjo just say?”

Taewan looked back at Hyungjo, his eyebrows furrowed strangely, and Sungjoon looked at me and said, “Well……” and smiled. I burst out laughing too.

“Heehee.”

I giggled and looked at Hyungjo, who couldn’t even meet my eyes. His ears were bright red.

After dinner, Taewan created a serious mood, saying he had something to tell everyone.

Taewan drank half of the amazingly delicious tea Sungjoon had brewed for him and still said nothing, but no one rushed him. We waited quietly.

Around the time the teacup had grown cold, he opened his mouth.

“The December 12th military coup,¹ the media consolidation, the subsequent purges…… Most of the activists² were sent to the Samcheong Re-education Camp.³ I can’t even count how many died. I can’t just stand by and watch the student movement get ravaged by informants.⁴ I’ve decided to become the chairman of the Sammin-tu.⁵ I can’t take it anymore.”

Taewan spoke with grim determination. I sat there blankly, staring at him. A strong desire born of sorrow and anger was etched between his eyebrows.

Just then, Hyungjo suddenly grabbed my arm and clasped my hand tightly. Hyungjo would sometimes grab me forcefully like this, as if I would disappear, and wouldn’t let go.

“No way! Are you crazy?! You’ll die! You’ll die! Don’t you know the informants are swarming, targeting you, and you still make a decision like that?! No!”

Sungjoon shot up and shouted. Taewan was an important figure at the peak of a student movement I neither knew nor understood. He had a record of being arrested by the police and released. He limped from the torture he’d endured then, and not long after getting out of the detention center, he was arrested again for violating the Act on Punishment of Violence, etc., for catching and assaulting a fake student on campus who was suspected of being the informant who reported him.

I remembered Sungjoon telling me that this incident had earned Taewan high regard among the student activists. I didn’t know when, or why he told me that, but the memory was vivid.

“Hyung, what are you talking about right now?”

I asked Taewan. Taewan looked at me and smiled bitterly. Suddenly, my mind went blank, and the many questions I had for him vanished without a trace.

I once again listened docilely to their conversation. Without knowing anything, I watched clearly what they were doing and what they were talking about. Watching was the only thing I could do.

“That’s not a good idea.”

While Sungjoon reacted vehemently to Taewan’s words, fidgeting restlessly, Heo Seok finally spoke after a long silence. Taewan replied with a detached air.

“……I can’t just watch my comrades walk into a deathtrap.”

“What do you think you can do? Isn’t it overly confident to think that things will only be resolved if you step up? It’s true the movement has subsided, but that’s a nationwide phenomenon.”

“At least I can gather people.”

Taewan replied to Heo Seok’s cold question. Sungjoon, who had been shaking his head, saying it was absurd and that he couldn’t let him go like this, denying the situation before him and growing anxious, finally burst into tears.

He should be stopped, he has to be stopped—the tears were a muddle of the regret and sorrow of someone who couldn’t, the gratitude for his sacrifice, and an uncontrollable sense of pity, all crushed and mashed together.

Taewan stared distantly at the sobbing Sungjoon. That gaze pierced through my heart like a knife, slicing it. My chest, my entire being, ached as if all my organs were being gouged out. I felt overwhelmingly sorry for him.

Taewan bit his lip, swallowing his words. Heo Seok wrapped his arms around Sungjoon’s crumbling shoulders.

Taewan turned his gaze away from them, giving me a bitter smile. It felt like a farewell instead of a “take care,” making my heart ache even more.

“I’m going now. I might lose contact. Wait until I contact you. Don’t try to contact me first. Don’t look for me either.”

After saying that, Taewan, who must have packed his bag in advance, slung a military duffel bag over his shoulder, opened the door, and left. Sungjoon let out a wail as if the sky were collapsing.

“No, stop him. Somebody stop Taewan. Please……”

“It’s his choice. We shouldn’t hold him back when we can’t even help him. Stop crying.”

Heo Seok said as he helped Sungjoon up and led him to his room.

My own vision blurred. Thick tears streamed down my cheeks, pattering onto my chest.

“Hyungjo, what’s going to happen to Taewan-hyung?”

“……I don’t know.”

“Why does it have to be this way?”

“Because if someone doesn’t step up, no one will. Maybe it wasn’t the passionate struggle, but the indifference and apathy that made this country what it is.”

Hyungjo helped me to my feet. Just like in Sungjoon’s painting, he wiped the tears that were smudging my cheeks into an abstract pattern with his own shirt.

“Stop crying. I don’t like seeing it,” he said, almost in a whisper.

“I don’t know either. The tears just keep coming. I’m so sad. I feel like I could die from sadness, but I don’t know why I’m sad. It feels like this is my body, but it’s not me.”

“Come here. Let’s go up.”

I went up to the room with him. Hyungjo laid me down on the bed. I was scared of being alone. The feeling of being swayed back and forth by something other than my own emotions was terrifying.

I was afraid he would leave me alone. I grabbed the hem of his clothes and didn’t let go.

As if he had no choice, Hyungjo lay down with me on the narrow bed. The thought that Sungjoon and Heo Seok were together in the other room made my tears feel even more bitter. Why did the thought of them being together make my tears bitter? I understood their love. I understood it, so why were these pitiful, bitter tears falling?

Lying with my head on Hyungjo’s arm, I thought of them and agonized.

“Taewan-sunbae has liked Sungjoon-sunbae for a long time. It must have started in high school.”

As if he knew my confused heart, Hyungjo suddenly started telling me their story. I listened to his words.

“But he couldn’t confess. He couldn’t, just pining for him…… and in the end, it turned out like this.”

My tears slowly subsided. I moved closer, as if to lean against Hyungjo’s body. Hyungjo flinched and pulled back. I threw my arms around him, telling him not to run away. I buried my forehead in Hyungjo’s chest and asked.

“What about you?”

“……”

“Do you like Sungjoon-hyung too?”

“No.”

“What about me?”

“……”

“What about me? Huh? Me?”

“……No, we can’t.”

It’s not that he dislikes me.

But, no? We can’t? Why?

His once-shy eyes quickly turned cloudy. Hyungjo sat up, as if to avoid me.

I hugged him without thinking. I kissed him.

The sight of him constantly hiding and suppressing his feelings, unable to reveal them honestly, tormented me.

I admitted it anew. I liked Hyungjo. I clung to him stubbornly, begging him not to abandon me, forcing my lips against his, pleading for his love.

No matter how I tried to open his lips, Hyungjo kept his mouth firmly shut, resisting. I couldn’t even manage a proper kiss. Tense, my face scrunched up as I kissed him, I then slowly pulled my hands and lips away from him. My saliva had made Hyungjo’s lips damp.

Hyungjo covered his reddened face and wiped his lips with his forearm. Without a single word of rebuke or reply, he left my room.

What have I done…….

This is weird, it doesn’t feel like me. This isn’t me.

I grabbed my hair in my confusion, mussing it up, and pulled the covers over my head.

∞ ∞ ∞

After Taewan left like that, Sungjoon shut himself in his room and didn’t come out. In the dead of night, the sound of a brush being cleaned and an easel being smashed could be heard from time to time.

The night Taewan left, Heo Seok had been pacing in front of Sungjoon’s door when he received a call from someone and left in a hurry, and he hadn’t returned. It had already been a week since Taewan left us.

I readily admitted that I liked Hyungjo. And just as much as I was drawn to him, Hyungjo resolutely pushed me away.

If you’re going to push someone away, doing it properly and cutting them off is the polite thing to do for the person with the one-sided crush. His ambiguous attitude of being neither here nor there was exhausting. I was always glancing at him, and Hyungjo always ignored me.

It was hard to even see his face since Hyungjo was cooped up in his room studying for exams, so one day my chest felt tight, and another day I was listless all day long.

My feelings of affection boiled up like a fire. It was an emotion so strong it felt like something was stirring me up inside. My desire to get closer to Hyungjo was a sincerity that even I couldn’t hide.

The image of Hyungjo listening to the voice of Maria Callas was imprinted on my heart. Whenever I occasionally recalled that image, my mind would tingle.

And so, another few days passed like that.

After class, I returned home and stood in front of Hyungjo’s room. I was physically and mentally exhausted from the emotional drain of the past few days.

I wanted to end it now. To do that, I had to confront Hyungjo. I had to demand to know why he kissed me first on the sofa that day, why he kissed me first when he didn’t even like me. There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my chest felt tight.

You should have just pretended you didn’t know from the start, so why do you grab my trembling hand? Why do you grab it and not let go? And then when my heart wavers because you won’t let go, you coldly shake my hand off. What the hell are you? Just where is your heart? I would demand to know.

Countless thoughts surfaced in my mind as I stood before his door. I shook my head fiercely at the endless branches of thought. Now was the time for action.

Knock, knock. I knocked on his door.

No answer. I knocked again and called his name.

“Hyungjo.”

“What.”

Only then did a response come.

A corner of my anxious heart crumbled at the sound of his voice.

“Let’s talk.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“I’m coming in.”

“……”

I took the silence as permission and opened the door.

As expected, Hyungjo was sitting at his desk. A book was open on it, as if he had been studying. Hyungjo closed the book he was reading and looked straight ahead at his desk.

He didn’t turn to look at me, but his resolute back said, Say what you have to say quickly and get out.

I sat on Hyungjo’s bed and looked at his back. He seems so far away, like he’s about to disappear. A wave of fondness washed over me, like gazing at a crescent moon faintly veiled in clouds in the deep of night.

“Hyungjo, you know, I think… I think I like you.”

“……”

The confession was just that lonely. Hyungjo said nothing. His indifferent back just looked sorrowful. I wanted to hug that broad, muscular back right away.

It was the first time that I, who had always considered myself patient, felt such a distrust in my own patience—that’s how hard it was to endure. That’s how much I wanted to hug his back and bury my face in it.

“If you hate me, then make it clear. Stop confusing me. It makes it harder for me when you do that.”

Don’t suddenly grab my hand.

Don’t look at me with that sad face.

Don’t let me lean on your shoulder when I’m suffering and struggling.

After a long moment, Hyungjo turned to look at me. Our gazes, tangled in the air, were so far apart.