Han Jaeheon clearly came here often. He knew the roads well enough to drive without the navigation on, and he had the ferry schedule to Cheongpyeongsa roughly memorized.
Since they kept walking around outside, Eunseo got cold, and each time he tried to at least buy a coffee, Han Jaeheon refused every time; being turned down was embarrassing too, so now he couldn’t even offer.
The autumn leaves were beautiful. Eunseo took back his firm belief that the changing seasons moved him not at all. Maple leaves red as a child’s palms, yellow ginkgo leaves, and nameless trees turned brown filled his vision, and his heart lifted for no reason he could name.
But walking along, he saw no one in a strange relationship like his and Han Jaeheon’s. The combination of the person who confessed and the person who wants to pretend the confession never happened. He saw a man and woman holding a tiny child, couples arm in arm, and now and then men holding hands. What would you even call two people who were neither family nor lovers nor friends.
Eunseo felt confused by the situation, but he buried it and tried not to look at it. Because this moment was just so good. He kept sinking a little and then floating again, but the good feeling was bigger.
“This is pretty.”
“…Yeah, it is.”
Han Jaeheon picked up a maple leaf and showed it to Eunseo. Was he bragging about how pretty it was? As Eunseo stared blankly at the thing thrust at him, Han Jaeheon snorted.
“It’s for you.”
“…Why?”
“Because I want to give it to you.”
“………”
“Give me one too, TA.”
Eunseo, standing there blankly holding what had been forced into his hand, hurriedly bent down and picked up a yellow ginkgo leaf. Not a single bug-eaten spot or speck of dirt on it — perfectly clean. He blew on it once with a puff of breath, brushed it off, and handed the ginkgo leaf to Han Jaeheon.
“It’s pretty.”
Twirling the leaf stem round and round, Han Jaeheon started walking slowly again. Eunseo couldn’t count how many times his face had gone red today.
Every person who passed them glanced back at Han Jaeheon at least once. Men and women, young and old — their reasons and feelings differed, but he seemed hard not to look at. Some with envious eyes, some with jealousy, and some as if love-struck at first sight.
Once they’d passed the rest area, the sun set and it became that hour when sky and maple trees were indistinguishable. Eunseo slowly stopped walking. In all this beautiful scenery, he was looking at only one thing.
The tips of Han Jaeheon’s hair hung with sky, his broad shoulders with a single fallen maple leaf, the nape of his neck revealed every time he glanced up, his long fingers rolling a fallen leaf round and round — he saw only things that came from that one person.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was… thinking for a moment.”
What if Han Jaeheon likes me.
“Thinking what?”
Han Jaeheon kept wondering about him.
“TA?”
Too often and too long to be mere curiosity, he wondered.
“Do you maybe… me….”
The words were already on the tip of his tongue, spilling out without passing through his brain. But Eunseo just barely managed to stop — before his lips, drunk on the scenery, could babble nonsense. Thanks to that kind voice surfacing in his memory: let’s pretend it never happened.
To Han Jaeheon, who still seemed to be waiting for the rest of the sentence, Eunseo only shook his head. But he might already know what Eunseo had wanted to ask. Because he didn’t seem curious about the rest of the sentence at all.
“…The sun’s setting.”
“Yeah. Want to walk a little faster?”
It felt like the chain around his neck was tightening. Eunseo watched Han Jaeheon, walking ahead, whirl around and only start moving again once Eunseo was beside him — and at the truly choking sensation, he had to hold his breath. Every time their shoulders brushed, breathing got harder.
***
Only after the sun had fully set did Eunseo and Han Jaeheon return to the parking lot. Feeling how short the days had gotten, Eunseo realized at the same time that the year itself was ending. Barely two months left of it.
“Are you going to school tomorrow?”
“I’m staying home tomorrow.”
“Then we can stay out a little longer.”
“…It’s already eight.”
“If we head up now we’ll hit traffic.”
The car ran down the darkening national road. When Eunseo hunched his shoulders at the slight chill in the air, Han Jaeheon turned the heater up a notch. Rubbing his dry knuckles with his comparatively damp palm, Eunseo checked the navigation to see where on earth they were going, but the screen still showed only their current location — no destination.
“…Where are we going?”
“The place I always go to have tea at their house.”
When I ask where, I’d like a location or a name… Though it’s not like I’d know it if he told me. Eunseo stared holes into the navigation again. From the blue river on the screen, they seemed to be heading riverside.
“Somewhere you can get caffeine and food. That kind of place.”
“I see….”
“We’re here.”
Han Jaeheon parked in front of a clean-looking building. But it felt odd — eerily empty. The moment he opened the car door and got out, wind blew hard down from the mountain. Eunseo pressed down his wildly flying hair and followed only Han Jaeheon’s back.
Opening the door with the little bell and stepping inside, warm air hung thick. In contrast, the interior was quiet except for classical music playing very softly, and all these tables
with not a single person at them gave him the creeps.
“Ah, you’re here. You’re a little late.”
“Yeah.”
“Dinner first?”
“Sure.”
“Have a seat and I’ll get it ready.”
Eunseo was staring at the center of the café, where a pure-white grand piano stood, when a hand tapped his shoulder and he whipped his head around. Han Jaeheon pointed at a window-side table and gave Eunseo’s back a gentle push.
“It’s cold, so let’s sit inside, not on the terrace.”
“But….”
“Hm?”
“Why is there not a single person here?”
“Because I rented it out.”
“Huh?”
“Rented the whole place.”
He’d rented out this whole big café? At a fact he’d never even considered, Eunseo’s lips just opened and closed a few times. And still dumbfounded, he was herded into the chair Han Jaeheon pulled out for him. On the wooden table with its pure-white tablecloth sat a vase of fresh flowers.
And outside the window, all of downtown Chuncheon spread out. No tall buildings, not very bright — a modest, warm view. Eunseo stared outside for a long while, then turned back to look at the interior. That he’d rented out this whole place was hard for Eunseo’s sensibilities to believe.
“You can even do that?”
“With money, anything goes.”
How much would you have to pay to rent this place? And on a Saturday evening, too. Wouldn’t you have to cover at least all the revenue they’d make at this hour? With his shabby imagination, Eunseo couldn’t even guess at the amount.
“It’s only three or four hours, so it’s not that expensive.”
“Do you… usually rent it?”
“My sister hates noise.”
“Ah….”
“And I wanted to play the piano to my heart’s content.”
“Piano… you really play?”
“Of course I really play.”
Eunseo looked at Han Jaeheon with more sparkling eyes than ever. At the curiosity and interest shining through his thick glasses lenses, Han Jaeheon snorted.
“Look at you, letting your guard down.”
“The piano and you, it’s a bit….”
“I look far removed from it?”
“Yeah.”
Such a decisive answer was rare. His eyes shone brighter than ever — half disbelief, half curiosity.
“You’re that curious?”
“…Yeah.”
“This is the first time you’ve reacted this enthusiastically, TA.”
Han Jaeheon smiled, eyes crinkling. Mischief hung clear at the crescent-curved corners of his eyes, but he didn’t look displeased. Eunseo dodged his gaze briefly, then looked back at Han Jaeheon. There was nowhere to hide anyway — it was just the two of them.
“I was going to play after dinner, but I’ll give you a little taste now.”
“No, you don’t have to….”
Pretending not to hear Eunseo trying to stop him, Han Jaeheon walked to the piano in the center. A few long strides on his tall frame, and he pulled out the cushioned bench and sat. The café owner, standing far off, cut the classical music filling the room.
He flexed his hands a few times and set them on the keys. And before Eunseo could even draw a breath, his fingers were already sweeping rapidly across the keys. His fingertips rode the white and black keys, soaring up and coming down, striking at a speed almost too fast to see.
Before he knew it, Eunseo was on his feet, walking slowly to the piano’s side. The pia-
no rang out — no, a clear sound like bells filled the wide, high space. He barely chased the feast of notes, standing about two steps from the piano, when Han Jaeheon stopped his hands short. At the happy glow blooming on his cheeks, Eunseo relaxed too.
“Want more?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t know you liked piano music.”
Han Jaeheon patted the empty spot on the worn piano bench — tap, tap — a couple of times. Eunseo looked at him, wondering what he meant, and he patted the same spot twice more.
“Sit here.”
“Huh?”
“Your legs must hurt. We walked a lot today.”
“No, I’m fine….”
Before he could finish — …I am — a hand shot out and yanked Eunseo’s wrist. The bench was too small for two to sit comfortably; they’d have to press their bodies fully together. The instant their shoulders touched, Eunseo tried to spring up, but Han Jaeheon looped an arm behind his back and pulled Eunseo’s upper body in.
“What is this….”
“I’m telling you to sit.”
As if Eunseo — uncomfortable with the contact, wanting to get away — were the strange one, Han Jaeheon stared at him with wide round eyes. Eunseo, who a few hours ago had almost asked do you like me —
wanted to curse out his former self. Han Jaeheon so clearly felt nothing for him.
“Kind of a waste for just a hobby, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
It was an irritatingly confident attitude, but Eunseo simply agreed. That was how good the music blooming from Han Jaeheon’s fingertips was.
“The elders in my family hate music.”
“…Why?”
“My brother, the musician, caused a scandal.”
“A scandal?”
“He fell for Heta and ran off. So my grandfather has a fit at so much as the ‘p’ in piano.”
“………”
“If he knew I still played piano, he’d probably be waiting in the living room with a golf club.”
Han Jaeheon told this not-at-all-ordinary story calmly. Eunseo wondered if he was even allowed to be hearing this, but he didn’t stop him. In their relationship it was always Han Jaeheon talking and Eunseo listening. He just figured he shouldn’t repeat it anywhere, and tried his best to forget this kind of talk.
After a soft, slow, tender piece ended, as if to show he’d said enough, Han Jaeheon steered the conversation back to the piano itself.
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