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Part of him wonders how Eugene Han got hold of his number, but it’s saved in his phone, isn’t it? He can’t remember how he first got the Bahama Korea Head’s number. It probably came from Heo Jae. All the way, from the very beginning, his world began and ended with him.
-
Heo Jae is sitting in his car, shoved carelessly into the backseat – he manhandled the Deputy Prime Minister out of the building into the carpark, what great luck they had: none of the reporters or other staffers saw them.
The miracle to end all miracles, Yi Heon closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the glass of the window, Hye Joon didn’t see them.
And he knows the Level Five is a smart person, sharp like the sunbeam lancing him from the corner of his eye and about to give him a headache.
This thing that now has landed in his lap, oh, how he hates that he doesn’t know immediately what to do with it. And Officer Lee whom Eugene has access to will do only one thing.
She will come to him first, and he will be as conflicted as he is right now. She would be shocked first by his lack of immediate reaction.
Just like that time when he told her not to leak that evidence which would have hurt Heo Jae’s chances of rising to the DPM post.
Perhaps she will understand, the conflict in his head since they all will realise that Eugene Han is trying to play them.
But she cannot understand the conflict in his heart, because she is pure.
Perhaps she will understand, because she’s smart and will spot the patterns.
The moment he shifts his forehead to rest on the car body instead, there’s the sound of the window winding down a little. Yi Heon opens his eyes and what he sees is his reflection, tears streaming down his cheek.
Heo Jae’s one hand is on the armrest, fingers on the button, hidden by the door. His other hand is there, lined up with Yi Heon’s reflection on the lightly tinted glass.
His voice seeps out through the small gap at the top of the window. “I’ll drive.”
Yi Heon steps wordlessly away from the car, and the Deputy Prime Minister opens the door quickly. The Director of the IFB clenches his fist, unclench, clench, unclench, repeat.
He hates that Heo Jae’s eyes dart to them and then the older male is stepping towards him, catching him when his knees give way.
And he’s still tearing, but Heo Jae doesn’t ask anything – not because the man knows why he’s crying, only because they’ve been together long enough that the minister knows instinctively that now is not time to ask questions.
He hates and loves that.
Yi Heon moves his leg like a doll, Heo Jae guides him into the backseat, strapping him in, winds up the window; pulls the tissue packet out of the seat pocket, takes his car key out of his coat pocket.
Every little thing reminds him that he has laid himself open to the older male – every action is seamless. Even his own car’s engine throbs more sweetly under Heo Jae’s hands.
-
Yi Heon wakes up feeling like his shoulders have tensed in the wrong position. Combined with the tightness of his face that he knows are from dried tear tracks, he feels all-round shitty.
He takes a quick glance at his watch, 4.10, then at his phone, 1 unread message. It’s Hye Joon messaging him to say the press conference was tied up cleanly on their end. He replies her with a short, Noted. See you tomorrow.
If he were honest, there’s nothing else he wants more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a long time. He suddenly feels depleted and defeated, but the thing that scares him the most is that nothing really changes.
Even if Heo Jae did kill his father, Heo Jae is the only one who has ever tried to fix the economy in the way that Yi Heon wants it to be. Still, the only one who has the power to effect the change he wants to so. The only one whose hand he can hold…
There’s a cry bubbling up inside his chest, full of rage and helplessness, it escapes as a puff of air.
“You’re awake?” comes the quiet observation. In his sleep haze, Yi Heon didn’t realise that Heo Jae was still in the car.
He looks around them, out of the windows, loosening his shoulders as he clicks open his seat belt.
“Back then…” he starts and stops, as if afraid of the answer. If Heo Jae confesses, what is he supposed to do; If he denies it, what is he supposed to do?
The Deputy Prime Minister stays unmoving, attentive.
“When you said that you would kill me too, you weren’t talking about Seo Yang Woo.”
It’s not a question, really. Yi Heon sorts through his mind and the tumult of emotions and his faulty perception. Murder is murder – so is instigation to suicide. He had believed that Heo Jae killed Seo Yang Woo, but still continued to work with him.
“Yes. I wasn’t.” The elder male replies him simply, watching him in the side view mirror.
“Eugene Han sent me a video,” he says, and watches as the minister sits back against the seat, exhaling.
“When you first approached me, you already knew that you had killed my father.” His voice is quiet, small even. Unable to even drag up an accusatory tone. Yi Heon is too tired.
“I did.” An even shorter answer, no attempts to justify or excuse or even deny.
“Do you have nothing else to say to me?” Yi Heon tries again, his voice barely trembling. Trembling with what, he’s not sure.
“I have always known it will get out. I only hoped it would be later rather than –” Yi Heon cuts off his politician speak with a broken, “All this time you’ve been playing with me.”
For a moment, Heo Jae is at a loss for words, before he composes himself by looking out the window and the sight of Yi Heon’s hunched figure.
“If it wouldn’t have affected our relationship, I wouldn’t have hidden it from you. I knew that we would not have stood a chance of working together. I didn’t expect that there would have been a witness.”
“Then if I didn’t know, you would have continued to fool me?” Yi Heon is slowly trying to collect up anger to inject into his voice.
“Because I wanted you. I wanted you. And I needed you,” there’s a long pause, before he continues, “For our country’s economy. For myself.”
Yi Heon can’t. he can’t do this knowing that he’s been so close and is still so close to this person. The guilty and sick feeling in his gut barely distracts him from the burning feeling inside his chest.
Heo Jae unbuckles his seat belt and opens the car door to leave, only for Yi Heon to stop him with a lost sounding, “Buchonglinim, where are you going?”
The minister looks over his shoulder, expression twisting into a facsimile of a smile. “Either to turn myself in, or murder Eugene Han.”
“Then what about us?” he asks, his voice pained. Heo Jae freezes up as Yi Heon’s voice cracks.
“Like I told you that night you slept over, your father would roll in his grave. I won’t keep fooling you. You cannot want there to be an ‘us’ after knowing this.”
-
Yi Heon scrambles out of the car as Heo Jae closes the door, crossing the distance between them in a single stride, grabbing and pulling the elder male back again by force. Turning him around and shoving him back first against the driver’s door, holding onto his suit lapels roughly and trying very hard not to punch him.
“You should punch me,” the man says, reading his mind and the churning in his chest bursts into a smouldering yearning. Yi Heon shakes him and shoves him back again before releasing him, resting his head against Heo Jae’s chest and starting to cry again.
His senior’s warm and firm hands on his shoulders, pushing him away when Yi Heon doesn’t want to let go.
Before Heo Jae succeeds in shoving him away, Yi Heon grabs him and forcefully presses their lips together.
He tastes his own tears as he swipes his tongue aggressively over the minister’s lips, aligning their hips and pressing them close, right up against his car. He closes a hand around the man’s neck and squeezes but Heo Jae doesn’t move to free himself, relaxing in his grip.
But once his fingers begin to loosen; Heo Jae pushes him away once he shows weakness, gasping for breath. “I told you, Chae Yi Heon. You would regret it.”
For a moment it looks like the man might just cry but Yi Heon’s world is falling apart and he has realised that no matter what he does – be it with Chief Jo or Officer Lee, he cannot protect this person whose hand he took.
He’s going to be left alone, again.
And he loves seeing the reflection of the same burning emotion in the elder male’s eyes. His heart knows that he’s confused but that feeling in his chest is the same. That same disgusting, uncontrollable longing.
He hates knowing that Heo Jae can shove him away even though the man wants. Because he can’t.
Yi Heon can almost imagine it, in the next instant Heo Jae has cupped his face and pressed their lips together. It’s so short that his head spins itself into a frenzy wondering if it was their imagination.
In another breath, the minister has broken away, hands stuffing the car key into Yi Heon’s coat pocket.
“Hate me,” there’s an odd smile on the man’s face, full of loathing and regret. “It’s supposed to be easier that way.”
And Heo Jae says it like that explains everything, but Yi Heon only knows that his throat is locked up by equal measures of despair and desire.
The director watches in a daze as his minister, his lover, falls to his knees before him, bowing. “Give me a month. Let me crush Eugene Han first.”
The man known first for his ego, the man trying to keep the quasi-promise he made to him.
One and the same, and Yi Heon realises clearly that he loves.
-
Yi Heon gives him a month and then some. He’s ready to give him more because he can’t help himself.
He drives Heo Jae to the police station. The President didn’t ask too many questions. The Blue House was only too happy to relieve the other man of his position and duties, even if everyone was shocked.
Eugene Han was driven out of Korea, disgraced. Hye Joon is set for a promotion. Things were supposed to be good, but they were not.
The former Deputy Prime Minister gives him a meaningless smile before walking into the police station, a USB in his pocket.
After all, it wouldn’t do for him to confess, only to be let off for a lack of evidence.
-
The sentence is lighter than expected. Twelve years. He turned himself in, after all. And his service to the country was noted.
Yi Heon closes the news article with a sigh.
Hye Joon is there, knocking on the door a moment later. “Did you see, Director Chae?” He leans back in his chair, humming his assent.
“You knew,” her voice carries a hint of confusion and surprise.
Yi Heon only hums, not quite ready to look her in the eye. Still, she holds his gaze.
“Ah…” her soft sound of something, her eyes then reflecting the same complexity in his own.
“Did you know for a long time?” she presses gently, “Are you… okay?” He gives her a small smile, appreciating the sentiment but both knowing he doesn’t want to answer either.
In a moment of absurd clarity, she opines, “You… don’t hate him.”
He fakes a laugh, which in any case is the wrong way to express indignation, “What are you saying? Of course, I hate him.”
In her typical blunt fashion, she nods and pretends to acquiesce, “I’d believe you if you only signed an MOU. But I heard a rumour that you testified in his favour.”
He tries to downplay it. That it was a professional critique of his work. That they agreed beforehand so that Minister Heo would confess.
The young Level Four gives him a half-smile. “Liar.”
-
Everything begins and ends with him. Yi Heon is still trying to take responsibility.