Underpainting Chapter 2.3 - Dépaysement (3)

“Kid. That’s alcohol.”

Dawon flinched and his eyes widened in surprise, but then he tilted his head and took another sip. It was bittersweet, with a sweet and sour fruity taste. It was completely different from any alcohol he’d ever tasted.

“It doesn’t taste like alcohol.”

Dawon insisted, even though he didn’t really know. Taehan looked dumbfounded, but he didn’t stop him. By the time Dawon finished his aperitif, the food started arriving.

After Taehan pointed out which fork and knife to use for each course, Dawon carefully used the cutlery from the outside in. Every dish was as fragrant and flavorful as it was beautiful.

The food was fascinating, but the way the man across from him moved his lips was even more intriguing. Dawon stared at Taehan’s face as he ate, until Taehan slowly raised his eyes to meet his gaze.

Perhaps because of the lighting, Taehan’s usually cool eyes looked slightly reddened. The moment their eyes met, Dawon heard the thump-thump of his own pulse in his ears. Warm blood spread through his body, raising his temperature.

He wanted to ask, ‘Why are you staring at me?’ but it wasn’t something he could say after staring so intently himself. Instead, he emptied his second glass of alcohol. Taehan asked with a worried look,

“Have you had alcohol before?”

Dawon nodded nonchalantly. Taehan wouldn’t know that the “alcohol” Dawon had tried was the leftover dregs in soju bottles and beer cans his uncles left in the workshop.

Taehan’s relaxed and comfortable demeanor suited the atmosphere of this place. All the strange and unfamiliar things Dawon had experienced today were probably just part of Taehan’s everyday life. The thought made him feel strange.

“Do you come here often?”

Instead of answering, Taehan looked around, and Dawon followed his gaze. Most of the diners were sitting in pairs, facing each other. Holding hands, talking, looking at each other with gentle eyes.

Dawon pictured the lovers in the paintings he had forged. He wondered if they felt like they were floating on air, their toes barely touching the ground.

“Not really.”

Taehan answered after a short silence. It was an unexpected answer, but Dawon wasn’t disappointed. He turned his gaze to the window, worried his expression might betray him if he kept watching Taehan eat.

The sun had begun to set, painting the sky with a red glow. The sunlight reflected off the city buildings, sparkling like scales. The fact that all of this was spread out below him made him feel slightly dizzy. In a way, he was floating above the sky right now.

With the main course, steak, came a new glass filled with red wine. It had a similar scent to what he sometimes smelled on Taehan. Curious about the new aroma, Dawon took a sip. Taehan frowned and interjected again.

“You’ll get drunk.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

“Cheeks… can get red.”

Dawon bravadoed, despite his flushed face clearly showing the effects of the alcohol.

“But I’m fine. My mind is clear. I can go home and fix that lens right away.”

“With your hand like that?”

“My hand is much better now.”

Perhaps drunk people all acted similarly. Despite having found his uncles’ drunken behavior so pathetic, Dawon felt the need to prove he wasn’t drunk.

“Mister, do you have a pencil?”

“What?”

“Or a pen, at least.”

Taehan, looking annoyed but slightly intrigued, took a pen out of his pocket. Dawon gripped the pen with his fingers peeking out from under the bandage and placed a napkin in front of him.

The napkin was thin and absorbent, but it didn’t matter. Dawon had once spent every waking moment sketching until his fingers were raw.

The only problem was what to draw. He’d always had a specific subject, but now it was different. Perhaps because he’d seen so much today, he felt like he might be able to draw something new and beautiful.

There was a sparkling chandelier on the ceiling, and the city lights were starting to twinkle outside the window, but Dawon first looked at the man sitting across from him.

‘Can I… draw him?’

Taehan was undeniably a good subject. But it had been too long since he’d drawn without a reference. He felt like he could draw him if he just started with a single line, but it was difficult. His hand hesitated, pressing the tip of the pen onto the napkin, leaving a black dot.

‘No. Not yet.’

After much deliberation, Dawon decided to draw what he always drew. An Egon Schiele drawing he’d practiced countless times. A woman sitting with one knee drawn up, gazing directly ahead with seductive eyes.

Once he started drawing, he quickly completed the human form. Taehan chuckled, as if in disbelief, and tapped Dawon’s plate.

“Alright, I get that you’re not drunk, so eat.”

“Just a moment.”

Dawon, who had been drawing smoothly, hesitated when he reached the woman’s face. Her face, looking back at him, was slightly different than usual. A familiar, unpleasant feeling. He realized he’d drawn her eyes to resemble his own.

“I said eat.”

Looking up at the call, he saw Taehan holding a small piece of cut steak on a fork, offering it to him. The piece of meat was tinged with red.

Dawon’s cheeks, which had cooled slightly, flushed again as if he’d been wronged. He tried to refuse, but Taehan didn’t back down. Dawon filled in the woman’s eyes with black ink and finally opened his mouth.

‘My expression just now, it felt strange…’

Unconsciously mimicking the expression of the woman he had just drawn, Dawon lowered his gaze and picked up his fork and knife. The half-cooked beef was tender and rich, but he couldn’t quite taste it.

“Oh? Did you just draw this?”

When Dawon finally finished the steak that had been served a while ago, the server approached the table to clear his plate. He asked, sounding surprised, looking at Dawon’s napkin.

Dawon had shown his drawings to strangers many times, but this was the first time he’d been identified as the artist. He nodded shyly, and the server showered him with compliments.

“You’re very skilled. How can you draw like this on a napkin?”

His hand reached for the napkin, as if mesmerized, but a large hand appeared and covered it. Taehan smiled and pocketed the napkin. A sharp coldness emanated from his smooth smile. The intimidated server quickly bowed his head.

“I-I apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“There’s still dessert left.”

Even his gentle voice sounded threatening. After the server left, Taehan picked up Dawon’s red wine glass. He put his lips to the spot where Dawon’s had been and swallowed the blood-red wine.

“Kid. You shouldn’t drink any more.”

Dawon touched his cheeks. His already flushed face was now hot. The last dish, a chocolate cake drenched in syrup, arrived, but Dawon couldn’t taste it properly.

Even as they left the restaurant and headed towards the parking lot, the flush on Dawon’s cheeks didn’t fade; instead, they grew hotter. He felt like his breath was sweet.

Alone together in the elevator, Dawon took several deep breaths. He couldn’t help but ask,

“Mister. Do I smell of alcohol?”

Taehan’s eyebrows twitched. He seemed angry that Dawon had gotten drunk despite his warnings. Dawon mumbled defensively,

“I’m not drunk, really, I’m fine. I can go and fix that painting right now… but I feel like I smell strange.”

“…”

“Is wine usually like this? Or…”

“Just stop talking.”

Taehan said curtly, his furrowed brow showing his annoyance. Dawon fell silent, not wanting to anger him further, but the silence made him feel restless. His body felt slightly off.

However, Taehan, who had taught him so much, didn’t seem inclined to explain this strange sensation. As soon as they arrived home, he ushered Dawon into his second-floor room and said firmly,

“It’s late. Go to sleep.”

It was a strange thing to say, having just returned from dinner. He pushed Dawon into the room and then seemed to take a shower in the adjacent bathroom.

The sound of running water seemed to go on for a long time. It made Dawon’s stomach churn, but he figured he would feel better after washing up himself. Once he heard Taehan enter his room after his shower, Dawon quietly slipped out and went to the bathroom.

The bathroom, still damp from Taehan’s shower, was filled with a strange scent. A mixture of wine, body wash, and an indefinably erotic musk, intertwined with the steam, seemed to envelop him. Even after a long shower, the feeling didn’t subside.

‘Why is it so hot?’

As soon as he finished showering, Dawon opened the refrigerator in the hallway. He gulped down a bottle of cold water, his eyes scanning the rows of alcohol and drinks inside.

Reading Taehan’s habits from the refrigerator had become Dawon’s new hobby. Despite living under the same roof, he couldn’t shake his stalker-like tendencies.

The whiskey and lemons were gone. He had warned Dawon about drinking too much, yet he was drinking more in his room? Dawon recalled Taehan drinking red wine at the restaurant. The way his well-defined lips had gradually reddened.

Feeling thirsty again, Dawon finished the water. In his haste, a few drops dribbled down his chin and onto his neck. He felt the tickle of the cold water on his hot skin.

Suddenly, light flooded the dark hallway. The door directly across from the refrigerator opened halfway, and a large shadow stepped out. The moment Taehan reached out to him, Dawon froze like a deer in headlights.

“Uh…”

Taehan grabbed Dawon’s chin and rubbed his thumb over his wet lips. The lingering moisture spread, a tingling, stinging sensation, like poison, spreading across his face.

“Mister…?”

Dawon’s heart began to race with a strange premonition, even as he questioned Taehan with a puzzled tone. The dark hallway was filled again with that unidentifiable scent. A boiling sweetness.