GB 41

While listening to Haero showering, Yoon Moo-hwa checked his video viewing history.

Since the parental controls were still in place, it was easy to access. It was both cute that Haero had no idea such controls were still active, and Yoon Moo-hwa felt it was good he hadn’t removed them.

There was nothing particularly special in Haero’s viewing history. The most frequent were videos of safe-grade sea observations where civilian filming was permitted, followed by cat videos. The most recently played were the Naval Academy entrance speech scenes.

“It’s mine.”

It was the most recent and the longest-watched video. Yoon Moo-hwa smiled with satisfaction, somewhat childishly. Unaware of his own expression, he closed the viewing history window. 

Just then, Haero came out of the bathroom. “What were you looking at?”

“Recipes.” Yoon Moo-hwa lied casually. It was so natural that even he didn’t realize he was deceiving Haero.

Haero sat down without the slightest suspicion that Yoon Moo-hwa had lied.

The TV was on. It was a rare occurrence. Coincidentally, it was that trashy drama Haero had watched.

“Do you watch that too?” Haero asked, munching on crispy toast. Yoon Moo-hwa seemed to enjoy cooking for him in his personal time. He even sought out special places that allowed cooking whenever they booked a hotel.

Yoon Moo-hwa brushed off the crumbs from Haero’s mouth and glanced at the screen.

He had just left it on while waiting for Haero to wake up. But when Haero took longer than usual to get up, he went to wake him. He hadn’t paid much attention to what was on, so he didn’t even know what was playing.

“No. I don’t even know what it is. Do you watch it?”

“I’ve seen it once…”

For someone who claimed to have only watched it once, Haero couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.

Yoon Moo-hwa, who ended up watching some of the drama too, was left speechless by the absurdly unbelievable plot developments.

‘Isn’t this too stimulating for a kid to watch?’

Sure enough, Haero seemed completely engrossed, as if experiencing dopamine for the first time.

No matter how you look at it, it’s too mature for Haero. There must be a way to hide TV channels… While Yoon Moo-hwa was pondering this, contrary to his thoughts, Haero wasn’t actually absorbed in the drama. Watching the scene of an affair being discovered in the drama reminded him of Yoon Moo-hwa’s lavender scent.

In the drama, the protagonist was now practically shoving a shampoo bottle at the other person, interrogating them. The other actor was making ridiculous excuses, claiming they carried it around to use as a dumbbell. Hearing such an outrageous lie, Haero smeared jam on his mouth as he brought the toast to his lips.

And as he chewed the bread, an inexplicable complex emotion welled up.

Before Yoon Moo-hwa could reach out, Haero wiped it off with a tissue and asked directly. “You had a different smell before.”

“Before?”

“Yeah. On New Year’s morning, you smelled like lavender. We don’t have any shampoo or body wash with that scent here.”

‘It was a sharp question.’

Yoon Moo-hwa was rarely at a loss for words.

He hadn’t expected Haero to notice such a thing, let alone confront him about it.

Yoon Moo-hwa gave no answer. This was very unusual. He always answered Haero’s questions, even if vaguely. 

Seeing him silent as if caught off guard, Haero nervously moistened his lips. “Did you borrow someone else’s while working out?”

It was an urgent question, as if hoping for such an answer.

Yoon Moo-hwa was silent for a moment before finally speaking. Knowing full well the intention behind the question, he gave an answer wrapped in meaningless self-consolation that, strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie.

“No.”

“…”

Haero suddenly felt his appetite vanish. “In that drama, they asked if someone was having an affair because they smelled like a different shampoo.”

The toast returned to the plate, only a third eaten. Yoon Moo-hwa glanced at it, wondering if this was something Haero should be questioning him about. He didn’t recall his own initial flustered silence when first confronted.

Though rationally he thought it wasn’t the case, Yoon Moo-hwa felt a strange tension. It felt as if he had done, and was doing, something terrible to Haero. It was bizarre.

“Do you sleep with other people too?”

“…I didn’t realize Haero had grown up enough to ask such things.”

He tried to brush it off with a joke, but it was futile.

Haero stared directly at Yoon Moo-hwa and asked again, “Are you seeing someone?”

Haero didn’t think asking this was overstepping or meddling too much.

It was natural. To him, Yoon Moo-hwa was shaped by the deeply rooted core memory of being ‘his’.

Haero had always assumed Yoon Moo-hwa wasn’t seeing anyone.

Everyone, including Seon Ik-hyeon, said there was something inhuman about Yoon Moo-hwa, and the most prominent aspect was the complete absence of any dating news.

“That’s…” Yoon Moo-hwa trailed off. “That seems to be my private life, Haero.”

So Yoon Moo-hwa’s answer came as a great shock to Haero.

Beyond losing his appetite, it disappeared entirely. Haero was overwhelmed with shock. The idea that Yoon Moo-hwa, not just any Yoon Moo-hwa but ‘his Yoon Moo-hwa’, was seeing someone else.

Haero had learned enough to know that people generally go through cycles of meeting and parting, even without Yoon Moo-hwa’s childish parental controls.

But he had thought Yoon Moo-hwa was an exception to this obvious fact. He had believed that.

Yoon Moo-hwa’s answer was perfectly logical. It was excellent in both offense and defense, enough to leave Haero speechless and feeling as if his heart had been clawed.

At that moment, Haero experienced for the first time feeling separated from Yoon Moo-hwa. When the obvious suddenly seems not so obvious, like humanity first realizing that glaciers wouldn’t remain in the Antarctic and Arctic forever, Haero felt Yoon Moo-hwa’s otherness.

It’s as shocking as hearing the news of the last glacier melting.

Like the foolishness of vaguely knowing this day would come but somehow believing it wouldn’t happen to me.

“Did you want me not to date or see anyone?” Yoon Moo-hwa asked gently.

Haero barely resisted the urge to answer “Yes.”

It felt like a huge lump had formed in his throat. Apparently, an unmelted glacier remained there.

“That’s… not something for Haero to meddle in.”

Even though Yoon Moo-hwa’s tone was still very gentle, Haero’s skin prickled.

“…”

“Now that you’re an adult, you’ll understand. Yes, I spent the night somewhere else.”

Haero gripped the mug. His hands were shaking, so he needed to hold onto something.

“As you said, I have sexual autonomy. I’ve had it for 12 years now.”

“… When did I ever say such a thing?”

Yoon Moo-hwa pressed his lips tightly. He hadn’t meant to remind him of that incident. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Yeah. Don’t remember. You don’t have to.”

Even as he quickly countered Haero’s perplexed words, Yoon Moo-hwa questioned himself.

‘Am I… am I being spiteful right now?’

If Haero remembers that night, our relationship will become even stranger. Like an ominously calm night sea, unable to predict what will happen even a step ahead.

Yoon Moo-hwa distanced himself a bit more from Haero.

Ships shouldn’t dock too close to each other. Especially large ships. Carelessly bringing them together could lead to them colliding and damaging each other in the waves, ultimately destroying them.

Yoon Moo-hwa wanted to be Haero’s guardian, not seek another position. Any relationship beyond that felt deeply secret and wrong. The moment he goes down that path, all meaning of bringing Haero from the island would be lost. Maintaining the status quo and keeping an appropriate distance is safest. For that, Haero doesn’t need to remember or realize. Like the parental controls he had set.

“… So does that mean I might come back one morning smelling of lavender too?” Haero asked in a trembling voice.

Yoon Moo-hwa couldn’t even imagine Haero returning home with an unfamiliar scent and damp hair. He gripped the cup tighter. He flexed his fingers a few times before grasping the handle again and bringing it to his lips. Even after taking a sip of coffee, his voice cracked dryly as he answered, “I suppose that could happen.”

“I can’t imagine it.” Haero denied it obsessively. 

Yoon Moo-hwa was about to say that he couldn’t imagine it either, but stopped. Could the idea that you could have a lover and that it would be okay be related to why the kids’ lock hasn’t been released yet?

“It’s strange. Strange and….” Haero rolled his eyes in confusion.

“You seem unfamiliar, hyung. Today, you … you’re like a hyung I don’t know.”

Finally, Haero stood up abruptly.

Yoon Moo-hwa stared blankly at the toast left in Haero’s place.

He had a premature prediction that the version of himself Haero would see from now on would only be unfamiliar.

‘Wanting to ride on the ship….’ Yoon Moo-hwa smiled gloomily.

He didn’t want to take Haero onto his ship. He didn’t want to be together in that closed and isolated space. He was quite different from the person Haero had seen. Restrained, moderately mischievous and moderately affectionate, meticulously caring despite the distance, in some ways an ideal guardian. An ideal older brother.

He could only be such a being thanks to Haero. It was because of Haero that this Yoon Moo-hwa existed.

Yoon Moo-hwa reached out and brought the toast Haero had left to his mouth.

He bit it to match the part cut according to the teeth marks and chewed it for a long time before swallowing.

* * *

Even when the sun was high in the sky, Haero didn’t come out. He was lying down listlessly. Suddenly, everything felt unfamiliar and changed. Was it because he became an adult?

How long had he waited to become an adult? He thought something would change dramatically the moment he welcomed the new year. However, he was just trapped in an unchanged, boring, and small reality, realizing that the change he had expected was actually unimpressive and worse than he thought.

Still, he should stop this childish behavior. Sulking like a child.

Although he knew it in his head, having come back after saying things like his hyung seemed unfamiliar, he felt really embarrassed, to use a vulgar term, to go out pretending nothing happened.

Haero buried his face in his raised knees. The bracelet Yoon Moo-hwa had given him sparkled on his drooping wrist.

And a moment later, a heavy knock was heard.

“Haero.”

“……”

“Come out. Let’s make up.”

Although he couldn’t show that he had been waiting, it was clearly the voice Haero had been waiting for.

Haero came out hesitantly through the slowly opening door. Yoon Moo-hwa patiently waited for him. Even seeing Haero with his mouth tightly shut after coming out, he exercised that patience and apologize first, “I’m sorry. I teased you too much.”

He couldn’t refuse the apology.

Moreover, he had just felt that his reaction was oversensitive. 

When Haero nodded, Yoon Moo-hwa took one step closer. “As a gesture of reconciliation, let’s go out together.”

“……”

“Of course, if Haero wants to.”

Haero mumbled, “How could I not want to?”

Yoon Moo-hwa smiled brightly. Haero felt the awkward knot in his stomach slowly untangling. He knew that becoming an adult wouldn’t dramatically change a person, but one thing seemed certain. Embarrassment hit harder.

Is this what it means to act your age? Is it more embarrassing because the unit has changed?

Still, Haero, who wouldn’t miss an opportunity just because of embarrassment, immediately grabbed the hand Yoon Moo-hwa held out.