LM 96

He heard a door closing. The sound of the elevator arriving crept through the gap in the doorway, followed by the heavy mechanical noise fading away. Woo Hyunse stood there motionless, wondering if it might come back up, listening for any knocking or the sound of buttons being pressed.

Time passed, but there was no sign of return. His neck felt stiff, and he slowly lowered his head. That was when he noticed the new shoes on his feet. Kwon Siyul had knelt down and put them on him personally, claiming it was a gift. Perhaps because they were new, even just standing still made his feet and ankles throb unbearably.

He took off the shoes and slumped onto the sofa, sinking into the backrest. His eyes felt dry, so he closed them. The light painfully pierced through his eyelids.

“Damn it…” he cursed, raising his arm to cover his eyes. In the darkness, Kwon Siyul’s back flickered. He had always been small, but today he seemed even smaller. His head, shoulders, even his nape and back. It felt like if he grabbed him, he would crumble like a sandcastle being eaten by waves.

‘This is the last time. Don’t go.’

What expression did Kwon Siyul have when he turned around at those words? He remembered that it was a determined look. There was a resolve in his eyes to cut off this relationship no matter what happened.

How many times had he held him back? Confining him, chasing after him, ignoring his tearful pleas to let him go, watching his every move like a malicious stalker. He could have done the same thing again. If only he hadn’t seen those eyes. Even if he held onto him, it felt like he would wither away or break his own small bird-like neck and die. How could he let that happen that? There was no more justification to hold him back.

‘I’m leaving.’

A voice devoid of lingering feelings or affection. A self-deprecating laugh escaped from his mouth. Finding something amusing, Woo Hyunse chuckled for a while, his shoulders shaking, before finally calming down with a deep sigh.

Had he ever been so obsessed with someone before?

Looking back, it was sheer madness. What grand emotions could he have felt for an orphan, a kid who used to sell drugs? He must have been out of his mind. He needed to come to his senses. He had to bury those bewitched days of the past and return to reality.

It wasn’t even that serious from the start. It was meant to be light, something to play with and discard when bored. There’s a saying about seasonal relationships for a reason. In fact, he had never struggled when breaking up with previous partners. Kwon Siyul was no different from them.

It was over.

The other had let go, and he had withdrawn his hand as well.

That was all there was to it.

He lowered his arm and looked up at the ceiling. His hand found a cigarette pack in his pocket. He took one out and put it in his mouth. When Kwon Siyul was around, he consciously avoided smoking. Perhaps that was why the pack, opened quite a while ago, was still heavy.

“…I’m tired.”

He lit it and took a deep drag. After filling his lungs with smoke, he exhaled slowly. Though it was the cigarette he always smoked, the smell spreading throughout the house felt unfamiliar, like traces left by a complete stranger.

Nothing had changed. The emptiness was a feeling one might have even when removing a potted plant from the house. The next day was no different, except for being unable to sleep due to the eerily quiet house feeling awkward. He woke up in the morning, stared blankly at the empty space next to him for a moment, then got up.

He washed up and entered the kitchen, habitually opening the refrigerator before closing it again. There was no reason to make breakfast anymore. He went to the dressing room, put on his clothes, and paused while choosing a tie for his outfit. Feeling as if someone was watching him from behind, he turned his head.

‘Can I choose your tie for you?’

A fleeting vision of Kwon Siyul sitting on the chair, swinging his legs and looking at him, passed by. He decided to just grab any old tie, shaking off the lingering image in his mind. He raised his shirt collar and began to tie it. But he couldn’t bear to finish. It felt as if a hand with long fingers and exceptionally white skin was resting on the tie.

“…”

He carelessly hung the tie on the hanger and left the room. He made it to the entrance with his car keys. As he opened the shoe cabinet, his eyes fell on those shoes haphazardly left on the floor. Not wanting to touch them, he had left them there–-one flipped over, the other lying there crookedly.

He quickly averted his gaze and took out another pair of shoes. As he put them on and opened the door, just like in the dressing room, he heard a voice from behind that shouldn’t be there.

It couldn’t be.

He knew that. Yet his head turned automatically in that direction.

‘Have a good day. Drive safely.’

With toast crumbs at the corner of his mouth, wearing loose pajamas, rubbing sleepy eyes–that was how the other man used to say goodbye. Finding it adorable, he would wrap his arms around his waist and…

The continuous flood of memories made his eyes throb. He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose to chase away the headache and looked straight ahead. He opened the front door and stepped outside, ignoring the invisible force that kept trying to pull him back.

The silence in the house remained unchanged even after work. Neither the ticking of the second hand, the occasional mechanical sounds, nor distant noises could break the strange quietude.

The stillness, once familiar, now grated on him. He searched for the remote and pressed the power button. As the TV turned on, the light from the screen and the sound of advertisements filled every corner of the dim house.

Guests on an unknown program burst into loud laughter. Though it wasn’t to his liking either, it was better than hearing nothing at all. Leaving the sound on, he entered the bathroom. Even after he finished washing, the tedious variety show was still not over. Thinking the news might be better than that, he changed the channel.

He should dry his hair.

Unless someone else did it for him, it was just bothersome. His hand, which had been rubbing his hair with a towel, slowly came to a stop. In the past, such daily routines hadn’t been troublesome.

Feeling stubborn, he got up again. He picked up the hair dryer, but that was as far as he got. He didn’t want to turn it on. It wasn’t his job. He should bow his head, and someone else should gently run their fingers through his hair and dry it for him.

‘I won’t like you anymore.’

Who?

Kwon Siyul wouldn’t like me? How should he have reacted to those words? Should he at least have bowed his head and thanked him for liking him until now? Could human emotions be retracted so easily? If one decided not to like someone from today, did that mean their feelings were cut in half and thrown away like garbage from that day on?

Was all of that easy for Kwon Siyul?

There was a cracking sound of something breaking. Looking down, he saw deep cracks in the handle of the hair dryer gripped in his hand. The sharp edge had scratched his palm, leaving a long wound. Blood pooled round before trickling down.

“Hah…”

He felt most pathetic for thinking about Kwon Siyul over such a trivial incident. He was being an utter fool. He put down the hair dryer and headed to the sink. He turned on the water and held his wounded palm under it. The diluted blood was sucked down the drain.

After a simple treatment, he entered the bedroom. He deliberately organized tomorrow’s tasks in his mind as he lay on the bed. Though he was clearly tired, he couldn’t fall asleep, as if he had suddenly developed chronic insomnia.

Was this place always so spacious?

The table, lamp, bed–the simple room remained the same as ever, yet it felt empty and vast. Tossing and turning, he rolled onto his side. There was a pillow that had lost its owner. He had meant to remove it but left it there, using his busy work life as an excuse to not remove it. He sat up, intending to throw it away now, and pulled at the pillow.

That was when he discovered it. A tiny trace. A single, thin strand of hair lay quietly on top of it. It was jet black and straight, without a single kink to it.

Kwon Siyul had particularly thick hair. Even though it was just long enough to cover his ears, it took a long time under warm air to dry. It was smooth as if it had never been dyed, and its color was like the darkest, highest night sky. In contrast, his ears and forehead extending below were as white as snow seen at an island villa, making his already youthful face look even younger.

When their eyes met while drying his hair, he would smile broadly until his tear ducts almost disappeared, exuding a dense fragrance like wisteria flowers in May. Rubbing his cheek against his palm, he would smile as if nothing could make him happier—

Even though he had smiled like that.

He wanted to throw the pillow away. No, he wanted to remove it from his sight entirely. But Woo Hyunse just held the pillow, endlessly staring at the hair that had fallen on it.

He clenched his fist until the recently clotted wound reopened, then slowly reached out to pick up the hair.

This mere strand of hair, he could just blow it away as if it were mere dust.

Woo Hyunse couldn’t do anything, just holding the thread-like hair in his hand. Unable to discard it, unable to fully embrace it.