Yoon Jooho never thought he’d feel relieved just because he was connected to Yoon Jooho.
Up until now, the only person Song Hyunsoo could rely on, even a little, was Jung Jin.
He absentmindedly tapped the corner of the pillow he was hugging and spoke in a sulky voice.
“Why aren’t you sleeping? I let you go twice already, so you should be asleep by now.”
[What about you.]
“I watched a movie.”
[What kind of movie at this hour.]
“……”
[Hmm, let me guess?]
After you left my place, what movie would you watch because you couldn’t sleep? I know you that well.
There was a hint of laughter in his husky voice. But this time, it didn’t feel annoying.
Song Hyunsoo’s mind was so full of thoughts of Yoon Jooho that he couldn’t even feel annoyed.
“Yeah, I watched it. I watched <Abyss of Passion>.”
Instead of insisting that his guess was wrong, Song Hyunsoo admitted it cleanly.
He couldn’t resist the curiosity of wanting to know more about him, so he just had to watch that movie.
[How was it?]
After a sound like he was sitting up, the faint click of a lighter’s flint came through.
Song Hyunsoo pulled at the drawstrings of his hoodie and focused all his attention on the sounds coming from the other end.
He didn’t want to miss even the smallest sound Yoon Jooho made.
“I was jealous of Abi.”
[What part.]
“Yang Eomeoni says it clearly. She didn’t tell him who his real mother was because she was afraid he’d forget her if he found out. At least Yang Eomeoni cared about Abi enough to be that obsessed with him. Twisted as it was, it was still affection.”
The sound of the filter being inhaled and the smoke exhaled calmed Song Hyunsoo down. His confession flowed out naturally.
“When I was little, I sometimes imagined that. That maybe my grandmother was really my mother, and my grandfather was really my father.”
[…]
“My father supposedly disappeared the moment he found out my mother was pregnant, and my mother supposedly left me right after giving birth. But what if all of that was made up? I wished my grandmother and grandfather were my real mom and dad.”
[…]
“The whole time I was watching the movie… I kept seeing myself.”
And you, too.
“Is that why you like this movie, Sunbae?”
Because you couldn’t help but think of yourself.
Even if you didn’t grow up not knowing your parents’ faces, you must have always been thirsty for affection, just like me.
After a long exhale, Yoon Jooho replied in his usual dry tone, not sounding any different from normal.
[It’s because of Christopher Doyle’s cinematography.]
As expected, he played dumb.
But he didn’t seem uncomfortable at all, even after hearing such a dark story about birth out of nowhere.
Song Hyunsoo liked this side of Yoon Jooho. He might not be someone who tries to gently comfort others’ wounds, but at least he didn’t offer shallow sympathy. That was better for Song Hyunsoo.
He grew up not knowing his parents’ faces, raised by his grandparents. But even those grandparents might not be his real grandparents.
— Most people would get flustered and not know what to do if they heard that kind of story. Even if Song Hyunsoo said it lightly, people couldn’t just brush it off.
It wasn’t something anyone needed to worry about, and he didn’t expect that, either. If only people would just go, “Oh, I see,” and let it go.
He didn’t want anyone to look at him with extra warmth. He liked people who looked at him just as they were. Just like Yoon Jooho did now.
“The cinematography really was good. It’s amazing how green can feel so lonely and empty.”
The whole film was dominated by green tones. Not a bright, lively, life-filled green, but the green of a damp, foggy, isolated tropical jungle.
It was amazing that green was chosen to express loneliness.
At the unexpected sound of laughter over the phone, Song Hyunsoo felt a little embarrassed.
“Why are you laughing?”
[People say Baek Kang is like Lee San’s first love and all. Your interpretation is interesting.]
“Me?”
[Yeah.]
“Maybe… it’s just because I’m ignorant. I just say what I see, since I don’t know much. Carelessly.”
[Who’s knowledgeable, then? I only graduated high school, too.]
“You only didn’t go to college because you wanted to focus on acting. That’s different. Sometimes you use difficult words, though.”
[That’s just thanks to all the scripts I’ve read my whole life.]
After a short inhale through the filter, Yoon Jooho added,
[Interesting is a compliment. Whatever the reason, an actor needs their own perspective. Or at least the effort to have one.]
Knowing that Yoon Jooho would never offer empty praise about acting, Song Hyunsoo couldn’t help but smile.
He pulled the drawstrings of his hoodie and squeezed the pillow between his legs. For some reason, his whole body felt itchy.
“But still, Leslie Cheung’s line was just… so cheesy.”
[Which line.]
“The watch one.”
[Ah…]
Yoon Jooho let out a sound of admiration mixed with laughter, as if he understood. Song Hyunsoo could almost see him nodding.
When Yoon Jooho laughed, Song Hyunsoo couldn’t help but laugh too. Trying not to make a sound, he just kept fiddling with the drawstrings.
He’d tightened them so much that it was almost choking his neck.
After a brief laugh, Yoon Jooho cleared his throat.
[Really? I thought it was pretty decent.]
“That was only because Leslie Cheung’s face made it work.”
[What about me? Wouldn’t it work with my face?]
“……”
He’s asking on purpose, knowing full well.
Ha, but… I really want to see that shameless face, asking on purpose even though he knows. Why did I insist on going home again?
“That line sounds like something you’d use on dozens of people. Surijin only fell for it because they’re so innocent.”
[Then it wouldn’t work on someone as jaded as Bibitan, huh?]
“Are you going to keep calling me Bibitan?”
[Don’t like it?]
“Earlier you said you shouldn’t call me Bibitan. You said I was in your top three.”
[Guess you forgot, but you were the first one to call yourself Bibitan.]
“Oh, that was just about losing in the sexy department! Honestly, it’s only because I’m up against you, but I’m not lacking in size anywhere else, you know?”
[I know. It’s not like I wouldn’t notice after putting it in my mouth and sending you off.]
“Then why do you keep calling me Bibitan?”
[Well…]
While Yoon Jooho trailed off, the sounds of the world slipped in.
Cars speeding down Hangangbuk-ro in the early morning, sirens fading into the distance.
They suddenly sounded so clear, but the moment Yoon Jooho spoke again, they faded away.
[Well, just because you’re cu—]
Goosebumps broke out on Song Hyunsoo’s arm.
The electric pad under his butt was warm, and with his thick hoodie on, he wasn’t cold at all.
No way, was this man really about to say “just because you’re cute” or something like that?
[But why didn’t you answer my question earlier?]
Look at him changing the subject as soon as things get disadvantageous. He’s surprised at himself for almost saying it, isn’t he?
Song Hyunsoo was just as surprised. Even though they weren’t face-to-face, his cheeks grew hot.
He loosened the tight drawstrings and pulled the hood down over his face, taking advantage of not being seen to play it cool.
“Oh, of course, if it’s our Superstar Yoon Jooho’s face, there’s no scene you couldn’t pull off. If you became Leslie Cheung, of course you could do it too.”
[Pretending it’s a joke when you mean it.]
You noticed?
You’re sharper than I thought.
Surprisingly, they went on talking for over an hour like that.
Stories about the Gukine cats, wondering where the location for Myeonghaeri— the important, fictional setting in <Dissolve>— would be decided, even talk about how there’d be a string of snow forecasts soon, so the roads would probably be jammed.
Dragging out the conversation with this and that, just like new lovers who didn’t want to hang up.
[Do you have work tomorrow?]
At some point, sleepiness crept into Yoon Jooho’s voice.
“Not tomorrow. I can sleep in. I’ll hang up now.”
He felt like he’d fall asleep the moment he hung up. In a way, he’d succeeded in putting Yoon Jooho to sleep.
[Thanks for making cocktails today.]
“In the end, I didn’t get to make one for you, though.”
[Next time. Something even stronger than Kiss of Fire.]
“Alright, now sleep.”
Song Hyunsoo hung up, listening to Yoon Jooho’s drowsy, stuffy laugh that sounded like he had a cold.
After the call, he stared at his phone’s call log in disbelief.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on the phone this long.
If he was going to be on the phone for over an hour, what was the point of coming home?
No, if he’d stayed at Yoon Jooho’s place, the rest was obvious.
They weren’t in a state where they could just stay next to each other without reaching out. Even if he didn’t think of him as a romantic partner, Song Hyunsoo could tell that Yoon Jooho still had unresolved desire for him. If he’d stayed, they would have tried to have sex, no matter what.
Song Hyunsoo pulled the drawstrings of his hood tight and smirked.
He realized that the confusion of recognizing his feelings had settled. He didn’t regret it.
Call duration: 1:17:08
Time call ended: 05:15
The day after Yoon Jooho turned thirty-three. 5:15 a.m.
He’d told Yoon Jooho that Abi’s line to Surijin was cheesy.
But Yoon Jooho made this time unforgettable for Song Hyunsoo without saying a single line like that.
Look at my watch.
Today is… the 16th. April 16th, right.
April 16th, 1960, just before 3:01 a.m.
Because of you, I’ll remember this moment forever.1)
■
1) From the film <Abyss of Passion>
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