CEL 38

His eyes moved to his wrist. When the hour hand and the minute hand reached a vague angle close to a straight line, a crease finally appeared between his brows.

Should he have just told him he would come to pick him up?

The distance was too long for public transport, but when he suggested going by car, Hamin brushed it off, saying traffic would be worse, and only took the address. Yesterday he felt nothing, but now that he thought about Hamin coming into the space that had always been only his, it felt unfamiliar.

From early morning, far before the appointed time, he kept glancing at the clock. He picked up his brush to try working on an assignment, but it never stayed in his hand and he set it down again, repeating it over and over without knowing how many times.

His throat kept going dry, and he started to feel stifled, so he opened the door wide and set the air conditioner to the lowest setting. Even so, the heat at the back of his neck would not go down.

He felt anxious but also excited. He worried that if Hamin saw his work space, which he had never shown to anyone, he might realize something was wrong with him and be disappointed. At the same time, he still wanted to let Hamin into his world. Those two feelings kept clashing and separating.

In the meantime, he heard a familiar set of footsteps from a distance. Because the door was open wide, all kinds of sounds came in, but among them, this sound stood out clearly.

It was strange to be able to distinguish a person by footsteps, but Hamin’s really were different from the start.

Each step came at an even interval, almost as if someone nearby was keeping time. Each step had a steady rhythm, probably because the worn soles softened the sound. He once thought of buying him new shoes because the old ones were worn out, but the dull sound was endearing, so he never wanted to replace them. It was a ridiculous thought, but it was true.

He listened quietly to the endearing sound of those steps until their owner finally stepped inside.

“Hi.”

“There are only three minutes left until the appointment time.”

“You’ll get sick from the cold in here.”

Ignoring his words so blatantly was shameless.

Looking at his crumpled face, Hamin set down the fairly heavy bag anywhere. Seeing that, he let out a deep sigh, picked up the remote, and raised the temperature.

There was not a speck of dust on the floor, but Hamin fussily tapped the bottom of the bag clean before placing it on the spotless sofa. As he did, his gaze shifted from the person to the space.

Han Jaeha’s studio was a little different from what Hamin expected. Instead of a small space with a few paints where he would work quietly, the living room was cluttered with all kinds of materials, and the room glimpsed beyond was also filled with unusual tools. There was nothing like a bed, so it really seemed to be used only as a studio. The only place to rest looked like the single sofa sitting alone in the living room.

“Can I look around?”

“There’s nothing to see.”

Hamin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and slowly looked around the two rooms. There were several easels scattered about, but none had a canvas on them.

“There aren’t any paintings?”

“The finished ones are over there.”

He followed the line of Jaeha’s thick fingertips. What the finger pointed to was a built-in closet. When he stepped closer and opened the door, canvases of all different sizes were stacked tightly inside.

“…Is it okay to keep them like this?”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled one painting out from the middle as he heard the indifferent reply. Because of the poor storage, its condition was not good.

“What a waste.”

What exactly was supposed to be wasted?

The painting Hamin picked up was one Jaeha could not even remember drawing. Since he had no memory of it and felt no emotion looking at it, he guessed it must have been something he painted when he was under stress.

Come to think of it, Heo Juyeop hadn’t called lately.

He was never someone who contacted often, but about once every two months he would at least send a message to get on his nerves. It had been over three months since the last contact, which was a new record.

“What do you think about when you paint?” Hamin asked while looking at the calm sea.

Usually, calm things would make one feel at ease, but Jaeha’s sea stirred up many thoughts. Since the waves were not rolling on the canvas, it felt like they had come inside him and were surging instead.

He did not know much about art, but there was a clear difference between what Jaeha painted at twenty-one and what he painted after thirty. If anything, these later works were more emotional.

Without answering, Jaeha wrapped his arms around his waist from behind. He bent his back, rested his chin on Hamin’s shoulder, and looked at what he was looking at. It was a little funny to say, but it felt like they were at the sea together.

“Do you want to try drawing too, sunbae?” It was a very impulsive suggestion.

Having Hamin inside his space felt better than he thought. The way Hamin looked at his painting with more affection than he himself had, the way he studied it carefully, the way he wanted to keep it for a long time, it was so beautiful he wanted to swallow it whole.

Jaeha also wanted to leave behind something of Hamin. Maybe if he did, the studio that always felt suffocating might become a little better, he thought vaguely.

“What should I draw?”

“Just draw whatever you want to draw, sunbae.”

The result did not matter. What he wanted to see was Hamin sitting in the place where he always painted, in the space he always painted alone. He tied a large apron around Hamin and sat him down in his own seat.

When he pulled up a chair and sat beside him, Hamin gave him a look as if to ask, “Really?” Instead of answering, Jaeha filled the water jar and handed him paper. Hamin reluctantly accepted it and set it down on the desk. He even placed it in the wrong direction, which made Jaeha laugh.

“That’s the back side.”

“The back side?”

“You have to draw on the front side of watercolor paper.”

“What kind of paper has a front and back?”

As Jaeha flipped the sheet over and explained, Hamin muttered softly in complaint but still picked up a pencil. He had only told him to draw, yet seeing him actually start was surprising.

He couldn’t even draw.

Jaeha pinched his thigh to stop himself from laughing at the crooked lines. For a moment, hel thought that he liked this situation.

Why didn’t he think to bring Seo Hamin here earlier?

He hated the idea of letting Hamin into the most depressing place he had. Seo Hamin was quick to notice things, so just coming here would probably let him see the depression and anxiety, and then he might easily throw him away, saying a broken person was useless.

He had braced himself for the worst, but when Hamin actually looked glad, he immediately felt the felt the tension leaving his body and was more relaxed.

The place had always been filled only with the smell of paper, paint, and pigment, but now the scent of a forest calmed him. He even thought that maybe if he remembered this moment whenever the lines on paper felt like they were tightening around his throat, things might be a little better.

Looking at the quickly finished sketch, he bit down on his lip.

“This time it really is an abstract painting, right?” Hamin muttered with one eyebrow raised.

“Pessimist.” Who was calling who ?

Even after being scolded, he didn’t care and picked up a brush, so Jaeha held out a palette. From the way he brushed the lower part, it looked like a flower.

“What will you do after you graduate?”

While painting meaninglessly, Hamin asked. It was half a way of testing him, half wondering how he had ended up being an actor.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“What about… being an actor?” That made Jaeha frown .

“…Are you mocking me?”

“It’s not that.”

Liar, Hamin’s look said, and he let out a hollow laugh.

“I asked because you’re good looking.”

“Do you think so too, sunbae?”

“Wouldn’t anyone think so?”

“Then why does it seem like you don’t like my face?”

The truth was he leaned more toward not really caring either way. Even saying he was good looking was only an objective judgment. But Hamin brushed it off.

“A job that sells your face is the hardest.”

“…….”

“Do you know how strict people are with public figures, even in lawsuits later on? You get criticized whether you win or lose.”

As Hamin quietly continued painting and stacking up negative views about being an actor, Jaeha tilted his head.

Why suddenly talk about actors?

Out of all the jobs, acting was one he had never considered. Like Hamin said, he didn’t want to sell his face, and he didn’t want attention either. As he traced the thought with a puzzled feeling, Hamin asked,

“What about red?”

He lowered his eyes. The part that should have red was empty. He blinked slowly, then raised the corners of his mouth before it was too late.

“Can’t you color it yellow?”

“Why?”

“I used up all the red.”

It seemed unlikely, but he nodded and painted it yellow.

He noticed for a split second that Jaeha’s expression sank before quickly returning to normal, but he did not pry since Jaeha worked so hard to hide it.

Does he dislike red?

It felt less like preference and more like something else, but he deliberately ignored it and finished the painting.

Was it only awful last time because it was just pencil? Adding color made it look somewhat decent. Jaeha seemed to think the same, since he clapped softly.

“It looks like it has some kind of social message.” Apparently not.

“If someone tells you to draw again…”

“You did well. You haven’t had lunch yet, right? What do you want to eat, sushi? You liked that place last time.”

Cutting him off just as Hamin was about to growl, Jaeha changed the subject. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but the truth was Seo Hamin really couldn’t draw. Even a child at least drew in a way that showed the intent, but with Hamin, even with an explanation, he couldn’t understand it at all. He was worse than a kindergartner.

He skillfully hid his true thoughts as he untied Hamin’s stained apron. Because Hamin had mishandled the water, a new blotch had formed on it. Jaeha smiled brightly as he looked at it, when he received a delayed answer.

“Isn’t that place too far?”

“Is it? Ah, then there’s a Korean set menu place I like near here. Do you want to go there?”

“I’ll pay today.”

“Why? That place is expensive.”

“If it’s expensive for me, it’s expensive for you too.”

No one else ever said things like this, but Hamin always said words he had never heard before. In the past it only felt strange, but these days not so much. How much could he even make from part-time work? Seo Hamin was always restless that he couldn’t treat him more with that money.

It would only take someone with money spending a bit more. But thinking that when they were together Hamin would casually pay high prices, while alone he would eat something like a triangle kimbap, made his chest ache.

“I’ll just pay. That place is really expensive.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else.”

His stubborn reply made Jaeha sigh.

“My dream is to make you legally incompetent, sunbae.” What kind of words were those?

Lately, always by his side asking what this was, what that was, his vocabulary had gotten strange. Hamin was baffled.

“So I want you to only wear, eat, and carry the things I give you.”

“Wouldn’t that be your father pampering me?”

Hamin watched him seriously and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a green card from a hidden pocket.

“Since we’re talking about it, take the card.”

“Can’t I just use it freely?”

Jaeha scratched his cheek with an unhappy look. Up until now, Hamin had tried many times to return the card, but he always gave some reason to refuse it. Today, though, he seemed set on it and placed the card right on his hand.

He looked down with indifference at the card that had come back after a long time. Part of it was because he liked that Hamin had something of his, but truthfully, he really did want Hamin to use it comfortably.

Then he could focus more on studying, and they could meet more often, and he wouldn’t have to do those terrible tutoring jobs anymore.

As he kept piling up reasons, only advantages came to mind, so he was about to refuse again when Hamin quickly spoke.

“Don’t give your card to others.”

“Why? Because it’s against the law?”

“People will think you’re easy.”

Jaeha, who had been laughing, met his eyes at the serious answer. Just by his tone it sounded like the usual nagging, but what filled his dark eyes was concern.

He felt something heavy pressing down on him. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to avoid this conversation.

“Getting along well and being seen as easy are different.”

“…For me they’re similar.”

“Jaeha-ya.”

The soft call made him unconsciously stop breathing.

Did he just say… Jaeha-ya? Not Han Jaeha, not hey, not you, not just stiff Han Jaeha. Jaeha-ya?

His breath caught. His heart beat hard. His vision blurred.

Why did Seo Hamin always say things like this to him?

Why did he always make him not want to show his hidden side, then make him want to show it?

Seo Hamin always made him contradictory.

Lost in emotions that felt neither fully happy nor fully sad, he licked his dry lips with his tongue. If Hamin said just one more word, he felt he might spill everything hidden inside him. It was an irrational thought.

He stared at Hamin’s lips with nervous eyes.

Fortunately, nothing happened.