Arcadia Chapter 4.2

“…What?”

Van understood the single word that flowed from between the boy’s lips without difficulty, but he asked again anyway. He had no other choice.

“Don’t do it with him, do it with me. I’ll make you feel better.”

A series of astounding words burst from Dia’s mouth. Van’s jaw dropped, and he stared blankly at the boy spouting such ungrateful words, the origin of which he couldn’t guess, before muttering, unable to hide his bewilderment.

“Hey… You, what are you suddenly saying?”

For a moment, he wondered if the one Dia had struck with the book was not Wayne’s head, but his own. He wanted to press a hand to his throbbing forehead, but with his wrists held captive, he could only let out a hollow breath, “Haa.” Unable to laugh or shout, Dia took another step closer, wedging his foot between Van’s, and pressed himself close. Van, feeling helpless, stared at the determined boy.

“I’ll do it for you.”

When he didn’t answer, a demand that was more stubborn than childish followed.

“From now on, always. Until you die. Okay?”

Van tore his gaze away from Dia’s beautiful face, from which such forward words were spouted without hesitation.

It is a welcome thing to be the object of desire. But the story changes when that person is someone you raised yourself. Stunned, Van hoped for a moment that his ears had deceived him and he had misheard, but seeing the hands gripping his wrists tightly and their bodies now pressed together, it was not his ears that were wrong, but Dia. Locking eyes with Dia, who was very, very wrong, Van gently shook his captured wrists and forced a benevolent smile.

“Dia. I think you’re misunderstanding something right now… Since you’ve only been around me, it’s natural to be dependent and, well, it can be like that. But…”

“What am I misunderstanding?”

“You are. Your feelings.”

Van was sure of it. In a way, Dia had spent his entire life looking only at him. The naturally formed attachment had been negatively influenced by romance movies and YouTube and had veered off in a strange direction. It couldn’t be anything else. This really, really, really shouldn’t be happening.

“So let’s talk first. A conversation. Is that okay?”

His gentle, coaxing voice was sweet, and the corners of his eyes, relaxed from the lingering effects of alcohol, were attractive. However, Dia’s expression hardened coolly the longer the sweet talk continued. It was a clear case of being treated like a child. As the grip on his wrists tightened and Van’s smooth forehead creased slightly, Dia affirmed in a voice laced with frustration and stubbornness.

“It’s not a misunderstanding.”

The human-like breath of a non-human being brushed against his lips. Van’s eyes shot open at the breath caressing his swollen lips. Before he could avoid it, Dia rose on his heels and tilted his head toward the off-guard Van.

Dia, who had his eyes tightly shut, slowly opened them and moved his lips while looking into the golden irises. At a distance where each eyelash was visible, he rubbed his lips against the rough yet soft flesh, and a voice that seemed to be suppressing anger leaked out from close by.

“You’re really… going to get it, Dia.”

The wrist he had twisted free throbbed. Dia, who had buried his lips in the palm of Van’s hand that had been inserted between their faces at the last second, met his gaze directly without avoiding it. The look in his eyes, impossible to judge as either naive or utterly cunning, poked and prodded at Van’s resolve to let it pass gently.

“Get away. Now.”

Van warned him one last time. Unlike when he was coaxing him, his low, deep voice was tinged with coldness. But Dia didn’t pull back his gaze, nor his lips which held a fiery heat. The standoff lengthened. When Dia, who had buried his face deep in Van’s palm, finally set his teeth on the scratchy skin, a single, frost-like phrase fell.

“I told you to cut it out.”

Van Clark was a man full of laughter, mischief, and love. He went around sowing affection like seeds. If there was a flaw, it was that he was somewhat frivolous, but he had a terribly affectionate side that made even that seem charming.

He rarely got genuinely angry. There wasn’t much to get angry about, and even if he did lose his temper once, it would melt away by the next day, and he would usually be the one to casually strike up a conversation. The only exception was Wayne from the red brick house.

Van, who was generally lenient with everyone, though his words could be mischievous, was now angry. And at Dia, who had been tamed by Van’s affection, no less.

Dia, who for the first time in his life received such ice-cold treatment from Van, froze solid. Not even his eyelids moved. The boy, who didn’t even take a single short breath, slowly drew back his lips, which were moist from his breath.

The pale white fingertips, which had dropped from Van’s wrist and hung limply, trembled. It seemed he hadn’t anticipated this kind of situation at all. The boy soon clenched his fists tightly and, as if betrayed, sent a resentful gaze before turning his eyes away. Staring at the floor where a heavy silence had pooled, Dia left one last phrase in a barely audible voice and went up to the second floor.

Van, left alone in the messy living room, clenched the palm that still held the sensation of lips. The silence that had descended, as if doused with cold water, was similar to the state of his mind. Massaging the wrist that still felt like the boy’s hand was clinging to it, Van walked over and picked up the fallen book. He neatly arranged the books scattered here and there and cleared the table. As soon as he put the remaining beer in the refrigerator, he went into the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth passionately and shampooed his hair so hard it felt like all his hair would be pulled out. After scrubbing the palm where Dia’s breath lingered with soap until it was squeaky clean, his chilled mind regained its normal temperature. Van, with a towel wrapped around his hips, sat down on the toilet with the lid down and his legs trembled.

“Haa…”

Looking back after cooling his anger with a shower, he felt that his reaction might have been too excessive. As he had judged in the moment, Dia had never once in his life socialized with anyone other than him. There was Wayne, but when the two met, it was hard to say they formed a normal human relationship, as they would just stare at each other blankly before passing by, leaving it unclear if they even had a conversation.

Then had he had a variety of experiences? That wasn’t it either. The only place Dia had been to was a deserted lakeside in the forest. He had never been to an amusement park, on a picnic, to a festival, to the wilderness, or even to a supermarket. For Dia, there was only him. Van Clark, and only him.

“Ah, damn it…”

Just because the boy, confined to a small house staring only at a laptop and books, had made one mistake, there was absolutely no need to react so cruelly. Of course, Dia had done something wrong, a huge mistake at that… but it was also true that he himself had handled it in an un-adult-like manner.

The image of Dia’s shocked expression wouldn’t leave his mind, and Van, tearing at his wet hair, finally left the bathroom after a long deliberation.

‘What is it that I’m allowed to do?’

The fragile words Dia had left behind, as if vomiting them up, echoed in his ears relentlessly.

There was no one in the room. Van, who had gotten dressed, paced around the small room before cautiously peering out into the hallway. The door to Michel’s room was closed. Dia, who used to barge into others’ rooms at all hours, making the room given to him seem pointless, was quiet. Van, whose daily routine had been to complain, “Please just let me be alone,” felt an inexplicable emptiness as he stepped out into the hallway.

He hesitated before knocking on the door. “Asleep?” he asked, but there was no answer. Knocking again and announcing his entry, Van stuck only his head through the open doorway. The room, dimly lit by a single struggling lamp, was only faintly bright around the bed. The bedding, disheveled in the shape of a person who had gotten out, was empty, contrary to his expectation.

“…Dia?”

Puzzled, Van stepped into the quiet room. He lifted the thick blanket and checked under the bed, but Dia was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, Van headed for the small bathroom attached to the room. “Why is he holed up in the bathroom like a pauper,” he wondered. But when he opened the door, what greeted him was an empty space. Blinking, Van was then startled. His heart, which had sunk for a moment, began to pound.

Thump, thump.

He hastily opened the closet, but sure enough, not even a single strand of bright hair was to be seen. He checked the window, but it was firmly locked. Realizing that Dia was gone, Van rushed out of the room, calling for the boy.

“Dia!”

The boy, who used to come running like a ghost even when called in a small voice, was silent. A curse slipped out from between his teeth. Van, who had thrown open all the doors on the second floor and checked even the corners untouched by light, rushed down the stairs without even thinking of grabbing a coat. “Where on earth at this time of night… No, does he even have anywhere to go?” Worry and anxiety scorched his mind.

Van, who had been running straight for the front door without hesitation, managed to stop just before turning the corner. His head snapped around. At the edge of his vision, he caught sight of the decorative cabinet that revealed the entrance to the basement. He was sure he had closed it. Soon grasping the situation, Van let out a deep sigh and trudged toward the basement.

Dia, who had disappeared as if running away, was sitting inside the glass wall with his back to the entrance. Because the dolls and toys had been cleared away, the only thing inside the glass wall, under the stark blue light, was a wall clock that hadn’t been put away yet. To think this was the place he chose because he didn’t know where to run or hide. The boy’s back, sitting all alone in the empty, cold space, looked particularly lonely.

Even though he must have heard the sound of footsteps on the ladder, Dia didn’t even glance his way. “I don’t know who’s really at fault here,” Van lamented inwardly. Climbing into the glass wall, Van called out to the boy with a pet name that was dripping with affection but somehow frivolous.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Dia, who knew very well that he was pretty and would immediately look up when called “pretty boy,” didn’t stir, as if he was seriously sulking. At times like this, he was just like he was when he was little. Feeling awkward, Van scooted his bottom over and moved closer to Dia.

Looking into his face after gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders, which had now grown noticeably more defined, Van was so surprised he was at a loss for words. Van gently stroked the boy’s shoulder, from which the soft, squishy feeling had vanished, and turned him towards him.

“Why are you crying…”

Only then did Dia lift his gaze, which had been fixed on the floor, and meet his eyes. Tears, beaded like droplets on the ends of his long, wing-like eyelashes, fell. He must have cried so much that even when Van wiped his drenched eyes with his thumb, new tears quickly welled up and soaked his flushed cheeks.

His mouth went dry. Van, who had a weak spot for tears anyway, didn’t know what to do with Dia’s silent crying, as he hadn’t even cried as a baby. As he fretfully wiped the wet face with his sleeve, the tightly closed lips slightly parted.

“Can’t we just live here, just the two of us? Let’s live here… Like before, okay?”

The voice, thoroughly soaked with tears, tickled his ear.

“I don’t like it when you hang out with him. I don’t like it when you talk to him, I hate everything. I’ll be quiet, so, so let’s just the two of us stay here…”

Dia, throwing a tantrum, finally looked his age. The hand that tightly gripped the hem of his sweater, as if afraid Van would leave, was heartbreaking. Van, who had been wiping away the tears that burst forth as if his tear ducts were broken, finally gave up and spread his arms wide.

“Come here.”

Dia fell into his arms without hesitation. Dia, who hugged his waist with his now quite firm and long arms, buried his face in his chest and sobbed. What could be so sad? No matter how much his body had grown, to Van, Dia was nothing but a child. Van patted the back of the pitifully crying boy, waiting for him to calm down. But it seemed that what Dia wanted was not to be calmed.

“Why can’t it be me?”

“Still on about that?”

A small laugh escaped him at the question, asked through sniffles, thinking he really couldn’t give up. It seemed unlikely that he would listen to any persuasion that he was just confused because he only had one person to get attached to. There was no other way.

“That’s because you’re still young, and I’m an adult.”

He never dreamed he would say something so cliché. And to a non-human being at that. Van, who was laying out a logical excuse of his own, saying, “Do you know how big our age gap is,” was flustered by the louder sobbing.

“No, that’s… I’m not saying it’s completely impossible. Huh? I’m telling you to come back when you’re grown up. All grown up.”

The world’s most sorrowful crying stopped abruptly. Dia, who had his head buried in Van’s chest, peeked up and blinked his wet eyes busily.

“…Really?”

Van was inwardly amazed as he witnessed the sorrow that had been painted on the sharp-featured face transform into anticipation. He knew he was smart, but to think he had even learned how to use tears as a weapon. The child’s attitude, asking as if he had been waiting for this very moment, was absurd, but he felt that if he found fault with it now, he would cry until the sun came up. It wasn’t hard to make an empty promise.

“Really. Come back when you’re all grown up. Okay?”

As he flicked the pink-tinged tip of his nose, Dia reflexively closed and opened his eyes gently and released his arms from around Van’s waist. A white hand came up and cupped both his cheeks. The body heat transmitted from the palms was hotter than a normal person’s. Dia, meeting his gaze with his reddish, bloodshot eyes, attached a condition that was difficult to accept in a soft but subtly intimidating tone.

“Then until I’m all grown up, don’t meet anyone else. No holding hands, no kissing, it’s all forbidden.”

“That’s too difficult…”

The hands cupping his cheeks tightened. Van, with his cheeks squished, mumbled with his pouting lips.

“Alright…”

“Promise me.”

“Yeees.”

As he agreed to the demand, which was tantamount to a threat, with a feeling of resignation, the soft hands fell away. Dia, who had pulled the corners of his mouth, which had been drooping, up ever so slightly, fell back into his embrace. It tasted bitter in his mouth, as if he had gained nothing and only been swayed.

“The audacity of youth is really something,” Van thought, and casually reached out his hand, sweeping through the lusciously waving hair before catching a strand on his index finger and twirling it. The softest texture of all the hair he had ever touched and caressed lingered at his fingertips. He gently rubbed the strand between his thumb and index finger, then helped the boy up.

“Let’s go up. I hate it here, it’s cold.”

The room was unusually messy because he had turned it upside down thinking Dia had disappeared. He had no energy to clean up. When he lifted the blanket and gestured with his eyes, Dia, who was hesitating as if he didn’t want to be separated, placed his knees on the mattress.