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1
Although Hansol wasn’t thrilled to be there, he couldn’t deny the beauty of Jeju Island. No sooner had he arrived than he was greeted by the deep blue of the sea, the white of the sand and the sudden yet magnificent black of the volcanic rocks. A landscape far removed from his life in the capital. What surprised him most was the quality of the air. It was so fresh, so pure, so light, that Hansol briefly felt it passing through his airways and settling in his lungs, relieved not to have to work as hard as usual.
“Don’t forget your bag,” his father said. He bent down to pick up his rucksack and hurried to catch up with his parents and sister at the car hire desk.
The salesman was talking to them, showing them the various vehicles available, cracking jokes and pretending to take an interest in the two children (“How old are you? ” “You’re so tall!” “You have lovely children!”) but Hansol couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. This island was like paradise on earth and his brain didn’t know how to process and take it all in.
Too much information all at once. The cool night air, the soft lights of the pier, the delicious smells wafting from the restaurants in the harbour area… The birdsong, the saltiness of the water…
All he could conclude was that he was completely enchanted.
Well… Until they arrived at their holiday rental.
It was an extension of an old lady’s house. Not very big. Not very well furnished. Quite dilapidated. The place might have been charming if it had been renovated. There was a living room and a kitchen, two bedrooms and probably the smallest bathroom in the world. No washing machine, no tumble dryer, no dishwasher.
Hansol complained.
His father told him off.
‘Young man, there’s no question of us spending a fortune on hotel rooms, and besides, it’s about time you experienced something other than the luxury you’re used to in Seoul. So you’re going to do me a favour by unpacking your things and getting ready for us to go out for dinner; and in good spirits, thank you!”
The teenager had cast one last glance at his father before heading to the room he shared with his little sister to carry out the orders given. Once done, he slipped on a simple denim jacket and joined his parents outside the house.
*
Whilst his parents and sister had decided to play a game of cards when they got home, Hansol, still in a bad mood, had simply gone to bed.
The next day, he was the first to wake up, and it was hunger that forced him out of bed. He slipped quietly out of the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and then all the cupboards, only to find that there wasn’t much to eat or anything suitable for breakfast.
“Is that old woman so broke she can’t even stock her cupboards with food? It’s mad…” he sighed and pulled on some tracksuit bottoms, a sweatshirt and a pair of trainers before leaving the house. As quietly as possible, as always.
He’d taken it upon himself to find breakfast and bring it back to his family. The day before, he’d spotted a few food shops near the beach and that’s where he decided to go.
He walked down a long slope and, once he reached the bottom, found himself face to face with the park and the beach. To his right and left were a few shops lined up facing the sea. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be closed; he had perhaps got up too early.
He was about to turn back when a faint smell of warm bread caught his attention. It was clearly coming from his right; he decided to head that way. The further he walked, the more Hansol could pick up other food smells. He could smell apple tarts and chocolate cakes, golden croissants and crispy baguettes. On impulse, he rummaged through his wallet, calculating over and over how much money he had – it would be a shame not to be able to buy anything – until he found the bakery whose scents were wafting across this whole part of the island.
“Jwa Bakery and Patisserie,” Hansol read above the door in an impatient whisper.
He went in without bothering to glance at the person behind the counter; he was mesmerised by the vast array of treats in the display cases. After a while, Hansol decided to take two chocolate croissants for his parents and two chocolate éclairs for his sister and himself.
He finally looked up at the baker. He’d expected to see a man with a big paunch, but instead found himself face to face with a young lad. He had blond hair –dyed, no doubt– that fell over his very straight brown eyebrows. His dark brown eyes were framed by thick black lashes, giving him an incredibly charming doe-like gaze, and his prominent cheeks made it seem as though he were constantly smiling. His nose wasn’t squeezed between the two mounds of flesh on either side of his round face, and the tip of his nose, smooth and well-rounded, stood proudly. His full lips parted to offer Hansol a polite smile. He looked like an angel.
“Hello! What can I get for you?”
Hansol, who couldn’t believe he’d stumbled upon someone so magnificent in a bakery, remained speechless. The baker’s face fell, worried for his customer’s well-being. However, his smile returned when Hansol regained his composure and said:
“Two chocolate éclairs, please.”
Hansol watched as the young baker quickly slipped round to the pastry section and slid open the glass panel to access the display. With deftness, he grabbed two éclairs and placed them in a small cardboard box prepared for the occasion.
He handed it to Hansol and announced: “That’ll be 4,574 won.”
Hansol hastily handed the money to the baker and left the shop.
He only realised he had stopped breathing once the door closed behind him. Hansol headed towards the vacation house, still unsettled. He didn’t notice the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
Just before the climb that would take him to the old woman’s plot, Hansol looked down at the box he was clutching tightly in his hands and realised he’d forgotten the chocolate croissants for his parents. He immediately turned back.
The baker hadn’t moved from behind his counter, and seeing him there again confirmed that Hansol hadn’t imagined him ten minutes earlier.
“Hello... Ah, it’s you again. Is there a problem with the éclairs? Not enough chocolate in them, perhaps? I’m really sorry! I..."
"No, no, that’s not it. It’s just... Could I have two chocolate croissants, please? And a baguette too.”
The baker blushed slightly, embarrassed at having lost his calm like that, and served Hansol, who handed him another sum of money in exchange. Then Hansol fled the bakery, leaving behind an angel intrigued by their interaction.
*
“These éclairs are delicious! ’ exclaimed Sonia as she finished her pastry. Hansol nodded in agreement, savouring his as much as possible.
His mother asked him where he’d bought the pastries and he explained the way to the shop whilst picking up the cream he’d he’d dropped onto his paper towel.
Hansol loved chocolate éclairs and was very particular about their taste, size and even the amount of filling inside. When he’d taken a bite of one bought from Jwa’s bakery, he’d been surprised. It was incredibly perfect.
“Right, well, tomorrow morning, your father and I will go and get some more pastries from there."
"No need, I’ll do it myself.” Strangely, he wanted to be the only one to see the baker.
His mother replied: “I want to see what else they make. Let’s all go together; it’ll be better.”
2
“Hello! How can I help you?”
Hansol was stunned; the boy from yesterday had been replaced by a young girl. She had brown, long hair tied in pigtails swayed down her back as she bustled about taking the order from his parents. She had the same laughing eyes as Seungkwan boy from the day before, but her cheekbones were less prominent and her face more oval. Hansol assumed the baker and the girl must be related.
Whilst his parents bought a few slices of mandarin cake, Hansol walked round the display cases a second time. The pastries were arranged in the same way as the day before, but a small change caught his eye. The éclairs looked smaller and flatter. He doubted their quality so he asked if the same person had made them.
‘You’ve probably bought the ones my little brother made. I’m really sorry, he’s better than me at making éclairs.”
The young girl apologised once more as she collected the money owed to her by the family. Hansol, not wanting to seem too harsh, smiled at the girl, telling her that the éclairs looked good and that he’d take two.
As he handed the money, he thought that if he carried on like this, he wouldn’t have enough to buy souvenirs or anything other than éclairs.
…It would be okay.
He handed an éclair to his little sister as they left the shop, advising her to hold it steady so it wouldn’t fall.
A movement to his right caught his attention. The baker from the previous day was leaning against the front of the bakery and seemed to be in the middle of a phone conversation with someone. He had a bored look on his face, but every now and then a small smile would light it up – and Hansol felt as though his day had brightened at the sight of these little flashes of joy.
“It’ll be fine, I’m telling you…” said the boy with a sigh. “Come on, Gyu, you didn’t go all the way to Seoul just to use up your phone credit calling me every time you’ve got a shoot!”
The other person – “Gyu”, presumably – said something, and his bored expression faded once more, replaced by a smile – Hansol’s heart was racing a little.
“If you were really ugly, no one would have hired you as a model or anything to do with the fashion world. Stop putting yourself down and go and finish that shoot once and for all.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go. Kisses.” Then he hung up before heading towards the shop’s front door, where Hansol was still standing.
He saw the boy approaching him in slow motion. The man’s face lit up as he smiled at him.
“Hello!” said the baker boy politely before pushing open the shop door.
“H-Hello…” replied Hansol, blushing slightly. He’d felt as though the baker had called out to him because he really hadn’t expected him to say hello. He had expected to see him disappear inside, but he stopped in his tracks and turned around.
“How were the éclairs ?"
"You remember me?”
The boy chuckled a little at Hansol’s astonished expression. He leaned forward, his hand blocking ones from seeing his mouth. His laughter was light but powerfully sincere. He was clearly teasing Hansol because the latter had asked what was likely a silly question.
“How could I forget a customer who turns up first thing in the morning? We usually only see fishermen at six o’clock. So seeing a tourist did surprise me a bit, especially as tourist activities don’t start until around eight.”
Hansol took a short breath – that was all he could manage in his state – and ran a frail hand through his hair. He’d always found it difficult to speak easily to strangers, and the baker seemed like someone who was very sociable and at ease in public. The complete opposite of him. This made Hansol feel a little uncomfortable, and he replied cautiously:
“I just happened to wake up early for once…”
Sonia, standing next to her brother, sighed loudly. She wolfed down the last bite of the éclair and said, her mouth still full: “What Hansol means is that he’s an early riser and he’s a glutton too. So there’s a good chance he comes here every morning.”
Hansol felt his face flush at his sister’s words. That wasn’t at all what he meant, and now he looked like a glutton! He shot Sonia a glare before making up an excuse about an emergency to leave.
3
Hansol's parents had decided to go for a swim at the beach in the afternoon, and despite the fact that it was already three o’clock, Hansol felt as though the sun’s rays hadn’t softened.
Sitting on his towel and hidden under his mother’s large hat – no, he wasn’t ashamed to wear a huge women’s hat in front of everyone; especially if it was to avoid getting burnt–, he watched the waves wash over the beach then retreat and merge with the sea in a steady, lulling rhythm. He had a novel on his lap but he’d already lost interest in it and was desperately looking for something to do. He’d already been for a swim several times and had even tried to build a sandcastle with Sonia. Finally, after two hours of extreme boredom, he decided to go for a walk.
When he heard commotion coming from further away, Hansol left his things on the beach and headed towards the source of laughter and singing. After making his way through bushes and trees – he didn’t want to waste time looking for a proper path – je arrived at a concrete platform that vaguely resembled a small covered public square.
Children were sitting on the ground in a circle, clapping their hands or tapping their knees in time. They took turns singing a nursery rhyme, trying to keep the beat, and as soon as one of them made a mistake, they were out. Hansol watched them play as he sat down on a wooden bench; he found the activity quite entertaining.
“Seungkwan!” shouted one of them after successfully completing his turn. It was at that moment that Hansol spotted the baker. The baker jumped but began reciting the nursery rhyme, and once he had finished, he called out a little girl’s name so she could sing in turn. The baker boy, Seungkwan, was dressed in a simple pink T-shirt and black Bermuda shorts; it felt rather strange to Hansol to see him without his work uniform.
So, the baker’s name was Jwa Seungkwan? He thought it sounded nice.
“Right, that’s enough for now, children! Your parents will be here to pick you up soon, and you need to have your snack first.”
The circle broke up almost simultaneously, the children running towards a pile of small rucksacks to find something to eat. Hansol expected Seungkwan to join them, but instead, he walked over to him.
Hansol must surely have looked relaxed, but inside, he was completely panicked, and the closer Seungkwan got, the more he felt as though he were about to implode.
Inevitably, Seungkwan sat down beside him, greeting him without realising the panic he was going through.
He gave him his sweetest smile, whispering as if he didn’t want to scare a wild animal. Had he finally grasped the state the other young man was in?
“We meet again, Hansol.” The hairs on the back of the young man’s neck stood on end at the sound of his first name.
“I… I heard the song and came to see what it was. I was surprised to find you here…"
"No need to be so formal, I’m sure we’re the same age. I’m 18."
"Me too.”
Hansol was surprised. He could have sworn that Jwa Seungkwan was younger than that; he would have guessed him to be 16. The baker smiled at him when he realised what Hansol was thinking and moved on to a trivial topic of conversation. They got to know each other better and only parted ways once Hansol’s parents came to collect him to go for dinner somewhere –his mother had given him a good telling for disappearing like he did- off on the way; she’d had the fright of her life when she realised he was no longer on his towel.
Hansol had felt Seungkwan’s gaze on his back until they disappeared round the corner of a building.
4
Hansol and Seungkwan were lying on the tall grass in the garden of Hansol's family's vacation house; they were watching the early evening sky.
Earlier that day – and as on several previous days – the baker had volunteered to show the tourist around a few places, and they had only just returned. Mr and Mrs Chwe were making dinner whilst Sonia took photos of everything and anything in the garden.
“By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while but I keep forgetting."
"What?"
"My name isn’t Jwa like my mother’s, but Boo, like my father’s. So don’t call me Jwa but Boo; that would be better, wouldn’t it?”
A pleasant silence settled between them whilst the information sank in.
Seungkwan took advantage of Hansol being elsewhere to observe his profile. His hair fell loosely over his forehead down to his ears, and he had only one desire: to brush it all back so his face was clear. Seungkwan adored Hansol’s thick, straight eyebrows as well as his very fine but numerous eyelashes. This boy was the sort of person with clear eyes in which one could read any emotion or shift in mood; their chestnut-brown colour was mesmerising, and Seungkwan loved to lose himself in them from time to time.
Hansol nodded and his lips moved – bringing Seungkwan back down to earth; he murmured: “Boo Seungkwan…” Beside him, Seungkwan laughed and nodded.
They lay there for a good half-hour, their hands brushing against each other and their fingers occasionally intertwining, before Seungkwan’s phone rang and his mother asked him to come home.
He got up very gently, pulling Hansol’s hand with him, which was still in his own. They parted.
“I’ve got to go, it’s getting late."
"OK, see you tomorrow?"
"Of course.”
And he left. Hansol felt strangely disappointed.
Hansol really liked Seungkwan, and even though he’d only known him for a week, he felt as though they’d known each other forever; that they were meant to meet.
“Hansol, Sonia! Dinner’s ready!”
5
Within two weeks, a little routine had settled in between them. In the morning, Hansol would come to buy his breakfast and around midday, he’d return to the bakery to wait for Seungkwan to finish his shift. Once that was done, the two of them would set off for a stroll around Jeju. Hansol would take his camera and snap pictures of anything and everything – flowers, birds, the landscape and, more often than not, Seungkwan; then they would stop to eat the sandwiches they’d each prepared themselves at one in the afternoon. Then they’d go to the beach and, from time to time, Hansol would join in the activities Seungkwan organised with a few children whose parents had left them in his care whilst they went shopping.
Hansol couldn’t deny it: Seungkwan was very interesting and, despite his strong character, he remained a very kind person with a good heart. He amused him, made him laugh and smile; spending time with Seungkwan was like discovering new sensations, new facets of oneself. Hansol enjoyed spending time with the baker, and just the thought that they would have to part ways at the end of next month made his heart ache.
Lost in thought, Hansol didn’t realise that Seungkwan had just sat down opposite him. Seungkwan placed a finger on his forehead to get his attention.
“Hey, Hansol? Fancy coming to look at the sky tonight? It’s very clear at this time of year and we might be able to see a few constellations."
"Yeah! Um... I mean, why not?” Seungkwan laughed (you know, the kind of sound that’s music to the ears.)
“OK, shall I pick you up around eight?”
"Sounds good. ”
*
Just as Seungkwan had predicted, the sky was clear and the stars incredibly visible. If Hansol had to describe it, he’d say it looked like a giant canvas covered in dark blue paint verging on black, dotted with millions of bright white points. It was magnificent.
“I’ve never left Jeju. What’s it like over there?"
"In Seoul? It’s big and there are loads of people. Loads of shops too. You can’t see the stars as well as you can here, and sometimes the traffic’s ’s hell."
"Are you trying to put me off or something? You’re not going to tell me there’s nothing good about it, are you?"
"Yes, there are good things, but Jeju has nothing to envy to Seoul. In Seoul you can meet people who are all very different from one another and there’s plenty activities, but nothing beats the beach and the warmth of Jeju.”
Hansol felt as though he could never do without such a beautiful sky again, and he was less and less keen to return to the capital. Hansol dreaded the time of departure; every hour that passed was part of the long countdown Hansol kept in his head.
Would Seungkwan forget him? Could they keep in touch via email or text? Would they just end up going back to their daily lives, as if they’d never met? All these questions were swirling round in his head and it made him feel sick.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Seungkwan, catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Hansol’s pensive expression.
“Will we stay in touch, you and I?”
They were both eighteen, but at that precise moment, they felt as though they were twelve, so helpless did they feel in the face of the situation. Seungkwan seemed only now to have realised that their summer time wouldn’t last forever. A look of uncertainty crossed his face. Did he doubt that was possible? Probably.
Hansol hadn’t expected Seungkwan to slip his hand into his and turn to face him. He was looking at Hansol but didn’t seem to be there; he was somewhere in that mysterious world of his thoughts.
He and Hansol hadn’t known each other for long, but he was afraid he’d miss him once Hansol’d gone home, to Seoul. He felt he was exaggerating a little, but the way his heart had raced the first time he’d seen Hansol had told him that their meeting wasn’t as ordinary as that. And he’d been right.
Hansol was awkward and very shy, but he was intelligent and kind; Seungkwan felt so at ease in his presence. He loved the hours they spent discussing a topic; all the times Hansol had sat at one of the tables in the bakery to watch him finish his shift; all the times he’d caught Hansol taking photos of him and would end up stammering an apology. He loved his perpetually tousled hair and his pretty brown eyes; his habit of tucking his head between his shoulders when someone spoke to him. He loved spending time with him more than he had ever loved spending time with anyone else – not even Mingyu and Seokmin. Seungkwan didn’t want to say goodbye to these feelings and emotions; he didn’t want to say goodbye to Hansol.
Finally, his eyes lit up again and, moving a little closer to Hansol, he whispered: "Of course we will, we’ll stay in touch. And anyway, you and I are bound to see each other again eventually."
Hansol had smiled and Seungkwan had copied him. They were both still afraid, but they had pushed their dark thoughts to the back of their minds; they wanted to focus all their attention on each other, right up until the very last day.
6
Hansol had slept poorly that night and had decided to cut his sleep short by going out for a walk. He had never seen the island at this hour before and found the surroundings even more beautiful in the soft blue light cast by the faint rays of the sun, not yet visible on the horizon. He took a short stroll along the beach, savouring the surreal atmosphere and the calm all around him. He listened to the whistling of the morning birds, the sound of the waves lapping against the sand and his own breathing mingling with the songs of the wind.
He wandered about like that for a good hour before setting off in a specific direction. Taking his time, Hansol hadn’t expected to arrive at the bakery. To his great surprise, the front door wasn’t locked – even though the small sign hanging on it indicated that the shop was closed. So he went in, eager to eat.
He was about to greet Seungkwan, but there was no one behind the counter and silence reigned supreme.
“Is anyone there?” whispered Hansol, unsure of what he was doing – perhaps he wasn’t allowed to be there? Only the sound of a door slamming and a running tap answered him. He jumped and his heart raced; he didn’t dare move a muscle. The tap stopped running and a voice rang out. Someone was singing.
It was a song Hansol knew very well, as it was the lead track from the latest album by a rather popular girl group, and he had to admit that the person singing was every bit as good as the original singers. The voice rose a little higher at the same time as the mechanical sound of an open oven could be heard; a delicious smell of bread wafted out and Hansol took a deep breath of it.
Finally, Seungkwan appeared from the sales side of the shop carrying a large tray full of bread, still singing. When their eyes met, Seungkwan nearly dropped his latest batch and Hansol, on reflex, stepped forward to help him keep the tray balanced. Seungkwan’s face flushed red after he’d thanked Hansol. He slipped the loaves into large wicker baskets hanging on the right-hand wall.
“So… . Did you hear me?" asked Seungkwan without looking at Hansol
"Singing? Absolutely." Hansol seemed spellbound, but Seungkwan didn’t realise it, ashamed of having made such a spectacle of himself.
The first and only time Hansol had heard Seungkwan sing was the day he’d discovered he looked after children. Hansol hadn’t realised Seungkwan had such a powerful voice, as it had been a nursery rhyme with notes that were easy to hit. But now that he’d heard him sing something more elaborate, he realised the beauty and power of Seungkwan’s voice. It had given him goosebumps, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck suddenly standing on end.
“Oh my God… Sorry about that. What can I get you?” asked Seungkwan.
" “Sorry”? Are you joking or something?! Your voice is amazing!”
Seungkwan blushed at the compliment and pretended to tidy up the various wrappers under the counter to hide his face. When he felt his red cheeks cool down, he reappeared and Hansol seemed reassured to see him pop up. Seungkwan put two chocolate éclairs into a box and a baguette into a paper wrapper; that was what Hansol had every morning. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Hansol fidget with his fingers and murmur something; Seungkwan asked him to repeat it politely, curious.
“You… You wouldn’t mind singing a bit more, would you?” Hansol finally said, and Seungkwan smiled.
“On condition : that you accompany me."
"I can’t sing... But..."
"But?”
Hansol was fidgeting with his fingers again and Seungkwan had to lean over the counter to hear what he was saying.
“Um... I rap from time to time.”
Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. How could this stammering machine possibly rap? He found it hard to believe.
Hansol caught the sceptical look Seungkwan was giving him and decided to give a demonstration. He selected the rap section of the song Seungkwan had been singing earlier.
He’d been rapping for a long time – to the point where he couldn’t remember his life before. People told him he was good and that his laid-back demeanour (which was just him being shy and not knowing how to act) gave his rapping that little extra something that people loved so much. He revelled in the look of surprise that appeared on Seungkwan’s face when he finished.
This was quickly replaced by a delighted smile and, shyly, Seungkwan joined in on the chorus – he discreetly added two chocolate croissants to the box containing the éclairs.
They sang other songs (“Oh, do you know this one? I love it!” “I used to listen to it on repeat last year!”) interspersed with little chats before Hansol’s father called him to ask where he was – he’d been in the bakery for a while and his family must have realised he was unusually absent – and the shop filled with fishermen ready to head out to sea.
*
“Sorry for bringing breakfast so late, I didn’t realise the time had flown by!” Hansol exclaimed as he entered the old lady's house annex. His parents and sister turned towards him in unison and Sonia lunged at him to grab the box. He laughed and didn’t try to resist her. He set the rest of his shopping on the table and sat down, ready to eat – now that he thought about it, Hansol’s stomach was rumbling quite loudly.
“Well… You look radiant this morning,” said his father.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied trying in vain to suppress his smile
“Does this have anything to do with Seungkwan?"
"Pfff, what, no! What are you on about?"
"I was right, darling!” his father high-fived his wife, who let out a little squeal of excitement as she clapped wildly. “Ah, summer romances... Have you kissed yet?"
"What... What no! He and I are just friends!”
No matter how much he insisted to his parents that he and Seungkwan were and would remain just friends, they continued to give him meaningful looks throughout the rest of the day.
The next morning, Hansol arrived at the bakery at a reasonable hour, but instead of sitting at his usual table, he headed straight for the counter. Leaning against it, he watched Seungkwan go about his morning routine, humming – he was clearly no longer embarrassed to do so in front of Hansol – a tune that was unfamiliar to him this time. But that didn’t stop him from savouring the sweet voice rising up in the morning silence.
“Why don’t you audition to become a singer?” Hansol asked innocently.
Seungkwan set down the tongs he was holding firmly. He’d had this discussion with his mother, his sisters and a whole host of islanders – even his friend Mingyu had called him in the middle of the night to ask him to audition for PYJ – and every time, he gave the same reply.
“Who would look after the bakery if I leave? What company would hire a guy from Jeju? Anyway, I’m not that good.'
"Your sisters already help your mum with the bakery, and besides, whether you’re from Jeju or Seoul, it’s only your voice that counts, isn’t it?"
"Thanks, Hansol, but no thanks. I refuse to do that. Especially as a solo artist. Why don’t you audition?”
Hansol blushed with embarrassment. He didn’t have reasons as noble as Seungkwan’s; he was just shy and thought he didn’t have the strength to live the life of an artist.
Not wanting to reveal his insecurities to Seungkwan, he simply shrugged. But Seungkwan continued, smiling gently:
“I really feel like I’ve discovered a new side to you. I never would have imagined you could rap so well."
"Honestly, you’re better than me, Boo."
"I don’t think so. Your rapping is impressive.”
“Your voice is just as impressive. Don’t be selfish—let the world know how well you sing.”
“Don’t be selfish—let the world know how well you rap.”
Hansol frowned. Was Seungkwan making fun of him? Was this the start of an argument? He had a strong feeling it was. He was about to retort when his phone rang.
It was Jeonghan, his ex babysitter and now his friend. He decided to answer and walked out of the shop without a word. Seungkwan was watching him through the window, and Hansol felt his gaze piercing through his back as he picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
*
Seungkwan had dreamed of becoming an idol since he was a child, but the more the years passed, the more he felt he wasn’t cut out for show business. He was too different from all those people on television; he wasn’t tall like the male singers or charismatic like the female singers. Of course, he had nothing to envy in terms of muscle tone –lifting huge sacks of flour for years had certainly built up his leg and arm muscles– or vocally, but he didn’t feel capable of handling the life of an idol.
Seungkwan felt a little guilty about hiding part of the truth from his friend, but he knew what the other would say if he revealed the ultimate reason why he couldn’t become an idol –surely that he should try and hang in there, that it was all a matter of adapting. Seungkwan would then risk coming into conflict with Hansol, and Seungkwan didn’t want to waste time on such trivialities.
It took Hansol half an hour to come back inside, but too much time had passed and he’d had to go back to his family. Earlier that day, they’d met up at the beach and, after a swim in the sea, they’d gone to one of the island’s museums. Around six o’clock, Hansol had to meet his parents at a restaurant, and the two boys parted ways then.
“Kwanie, I’ve been thinking about your talent since our chat yesterday…”
Seungkwan turned to Hansol, looking bored – the latter snapped a photo of his expression. He was about to tell him he didn’t want to talk about it again, but Hansol stopped him.
“And I stumbled across this after going to the restaurant.”
Seungkwan took the flyer Hansol was holding out to him and read what was written on it in garish colours. It was a talent contest being held at one of the nearby hotels.
Seungkwan shot a sceptical look at Hansol, who hastened to explain: “You could take part, that way, you’ll get to see what it’s like to be on stage."
"Hansol, I..."
"Please, I really want to see you blow everyone away...”
Seungkwan avoided Hansol’s gaze and turned his attention back to the flyer. He could take part, and besides, he had nothing to lose, did he? But he didn’t want to go on alone. Standing there in front of a whole crowd of people, with nothing but a microphone for company? No. Thank. You.
Hansol was champing at the bit; he could tell Seungkwan was seriously considering his proposal and he was eager to hear his answer.
“OK, I’ll do it..."
"Great!"
"On condition that you take part with me.”
Hansol’s face lost all trace of joy and he looked at his friend as if he’d lost his mind. Seungkwan played his last card.
He took Hansol’s hand and fixed his dark gaze on Hansol’s light eyes, pushing his lower lip forward. The whole thing gave him an adorable pout that he knew Hansol couldn’t resist.
“Right… OK,” he finally said.
7
“Hansol, meet Seokmin! He’s my childhood friend.”
The tall, lanky boy standing opposite Hansol held out his hand, and Hansol took it stiffly. They smiled politely at each other, but Hansol wasn’t really paying attention to what Seungkwan was saying at the same time.
He’d heard about Mingyu – tall, handsome and charming but very clumsy – loads of times, but Seungkwan had never mentioned anyone called Seokmin, and Hansol suspected Seungkwan was hiding something from him.
Then, after spending half an hour together, Hansol noticed the way his new acquaintance behaved towards Seungkwan.
He was clingy. Really clingy. Seokmin spent his time touching Seungkwan’s face and body, cuddling him and whispering sweet nothings. And Hansol began to wonder if they weren’t in a relationship that was more than just friendly.
When he got back to the vacation house, he headed straight for his room and flopped down on the mattress that had been assigned to him, for lack of a bed.
“Are you OK?” asked Sonia, who was reading in a corner. He grunted and finally rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Noticing his annoyed expression, his sister decided to put down her novel and approach her brother. He hadn’t been in a bad mood since they’d arrived on the island – which was a miracle in itself.
“There’s this guy! He’s always sticking to Seungkwan and it’s annoying!”
Sonia left the room, finally deciding the situation was out of her jurisdiction. She asked her mother to deal with her son herself. The forty-something woman sighed before sitting down on her son’s mattress.
“Sonia told me things you have a problem."
"Seungkwan’s cancelled our next two outings to spend time with Seokmin."
"Who’s that?"
"He’s one of his friends.
"If they want to spend time together, what’s the problem? It’s their right, and besides, don’t forget that you haven’t known Seungkwan as long as he'd known this Seokmin."
"But that’s not the problem!” Hansol exclaimed, before adding more calmly, “They’re too touchy-feely..."
"Oh...” his mother stroked his hair. “If that’s all it is, it’s no big deal. If they’ve known each other for a long time, they’ve already moved past the stage of being reserved. There’s nothing to worry about; there’s probably nothing more than friendship between them, if that’s what’s bothering you."
"If you say so…"
"Relax, you’ve still got a chance with Seungkwan. ”
She smiled at her son, clearly teasing him. Hansol didn’t get the joke and exclaimed, flushing red: “Mum! I don’t like Seungkwan and I don’t want to go out with him!”
Who was he trying to fool?
*
The awkwardness Hansol felt in Seokmin’s presence was palpable. Seungkwan had disappeared somewhere at the back of the bakery and the other two teenagers found themselves alone, with nothing to talk about.
“So… Have you known each other for a really long time?”
"We went to the same nursery when we were four and six."
"Ah."
"And you? I was away for quite a while, so…"
"Oh. Ah! Just since July. We met at the bakery.”
Seokmin cast an inscrutable glance at Hansol, then, before Hansol could ask him what seemed to be bothering him, turned away.
Hansol didn’t dare carry on talking. Seokmin did.
“So you’re just… acquaintances ?”
"I suppose so."
"That would have reassured me, really, if only I hadn’t knew you were lying."
"I’m not!”
Hansol didn’t have time to protest before Seungkwan returned with a fresh batch of pastries. He asked them what they were talking about and Seokmin replied that they were discussing a new girl group. Seungkwan exclaimed and started talking; he was a fountain of words on the subject.
*
Horrible. That day had been horrible. No matter what he said, did or thought, Seokmin’s suspicious gaze was fixed on Hansol. On several occasions, Hansol had thought of leaving the bakery, but without realising it, Seungkwan had held him back each time.
When seven o’clock struck, Hansol stood up, made an excuse about having to meet his family, and said goodbye to Seungkwan. Just as he was about to do the same for the lanky boy, the latter offered to walk him home.
“No need…” said Hansol cautiously. Seokmin hadn’t listened, had waved to Seungkwan and had pushed the other teenager towards the exit.
Never had Hansol wanted to disappear so badly. The older boy was holding him by the forearm, preventing him from running away, and Hansol was panicking because of it. What did he intend to do to him? For all he knew, Seokmin was a very dangerous mafia guy and he was planning to kill him in a dark corner. Hansol definitely shouldn’t have read all those gory comics; he’d have had less of an imagination.
“So. ..” Seokmin began as Hansol jumped “Let’s not beat around the bush – you’re going to tell me what your true intentions are towards Seungkwan.”
All Hansol wanted was to go home, to his bed and never go out again as long as this bloke was hanging around. Unfortunately, Seokmin was still holding him. So he just resigned himself to answering him.
“I don’t have any bad intentions, OK? I know he’s your best friend and that you love him dearly, but is all this (he made a sweeping gesture with his free arm) really necessary? I’ve never hit anyone, I love romcom, and my criminal record is as clean as a whistle! So don’t go imagining that I’d do anything to Seungkwan. He’s the most precious person I know! Who on earth would want to hurt him?! »
Seokmin laughed and released the pressure he’d been keeping on Hansol’s upper arm.
“You’re right. Sorry for coming across as so threatening.” They stopped walking at the slope leading up to the house. “You don’t look like a threat, Hansol, but just so you know, I know how to effectively break most of your bones. So please look after Seungkwan. See you !”
Hansol waved his hand one last time in farewell before quickly heading up the slope. What sort of people was Seungkwan hanging out with?!
*
“Seokmin isn’t here today? ”
Hansol hadn’t even said hello to Seungkwan. The slender boy’s absence had struck him the moment he set foot in the bakery.
Seungkwan didn’t hold Hansol’s lack of politeness against him and handing him his breakfast, said: “ He’s gone back to Seoul for his summer classes."
"Is he taking extra lessons? Is he struggling at school?
"Oh no, no. It’s just classes to get ahead; he wants to do a rather complicated job, from what I understand.”
Hansol sat down at the same table as usual and admired his chocolate éclair before taking a bite in religious silence.
Seungkwan watched his reaction. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his eyes crinkled with delight. His head tilted back slightly and Seungkwan watched as the chewed piece of éclair slid down his throat. was then that he knew Hansol was satisfied with his pastry.
A smile blossomed on Seungkwan’s face.
“Your éclairs are divinely good."
"Thank you."
"You know I could kill for them?”
Seungkwan burst out laughing and Hansol quickly followed suit – nearly choking on another bite.
Seungkwan sat down opposite Hansol and watched him eat for a few more seconds before saying cautiously: “Shall we practise this afternoon?"
"For the competition? Why not!"
"Brilliant! It was time to get down to work. Shall we go to my place?”
Hansol’s heart skipped a beat and it took all the self-control in the world to keep his voice from faltering as he accepted the invitation.
Going to Seungkwan’s place was different from taking him to the vacation house. He had grown up in that house. It was full of memories, both good and bad; a daily routine had settled in there, and above all, a particular intimacy. And Hansol wasn’t sure he’d dare intrude on that intimacy. Would he be able to find a place there? Would he stick out like a sore thumb?
“Solie? What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing at all! Um… What time should I come? I mean, what would be convenient for you? Or for your mum—I don’t want to be a bother, you know… And your sisters? Would it bother them?” Hansol was starting to fidget all over the place, even even more certain about the idea of going to the Boos’ house. He didn’t want to be an intruder and disrupt their little routine.
He was finally about to turn down Seungkwan’s invitation when the latter burst out laughing. His head snapped back and the room was left in silence.
Hansol’s heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t be silly, Solie. You won’t bother anyone. Besides, my mum keeps asking me who I spend my days out with. It would be nice if you met her.”
Seungkwan’s house was really lovely. Unlike the hovel Hansol lived in, it was well-maintained. It was a classic house, much like all the others in the neighbourhood. It had the same blue roof and white walls as its neighbours; the little stone path too.
However, it was surrounded by a magnificent garden. As well as the fruit trees laden with fruit, there were pretty flowering bushes and a small area set aside for growing vegetables.
Seungkwan had told him that his sister loved gardening, but that he was the one in charge of the vegetables.
They had walked up the path and Seungkwan had taken a bunch of keys from his pocket – the same ones he used to unlock the front door of the bakery – and had invited Hansol in after opening the dark blue door.
“Welcome to my humble abode! Make yourself at home!”
After taking off his shoes, Hansol stepped timidly into the living room, followed by Seungkwan.
“I love your socks,” Seungkwan announced, teasingly.
Hansol’s socks were printed with the faces of Disney princesses; he’d completely forgotten that those were the ones he’d put on that morning.
“I really like Disney, don’t I?"
"Oh my God, you’re so precious…” Seungkwan, laughing, forced Hansol to sit down on the sofa.
As Seungkwan placed a tray containing glasses, a drink and some cakes on the coffee table, noises came from upstairs.
It sounded like someone was running fast, and the sound of running continued all the way down the stairs. Two girls suddenly appeared on the ground floor.
As they approached the living room, they were pushing and shoving each other, and Hansol felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he watched them. They seemed dangerously overexcited.
The one he’d met at the start of the holidays seemed much, much less composed. Was it the presence of her sister that was making her like this?
“Kwanie! You’re back!"
"Oh? Hi there! What’s your name?”
Whilst the one he knew threw herself at her little brother, the other flopped down onto the sofa and grabbed Hansol’s hands. Unlike her sister and brother, she had a more delicate face, with high cheekbones but hollow cheeks; one might have thought her ill if she hadn’t seemed to be glowing with excitement. Hansol didn’t know how to react to the intense gaze she was fixing on him.
“You’re not fully Korean,” she said abruptly. Then she turned to her brother. “Does he speak Korean, Kwani?"
"Ask him, Seungmin,” he replied annoyed, trying to free himself from Seungil’s embrace.
Hansol plucked up his courage – and took a deep breath – then whispered: “I’m partly Korean. But I spend all my life here. I speak Korean very well..."
"Oh! You’re so good! That’s wonderful, Kwanie, wonderful!”
All Hansol wanted was to get on with his work, but there he was, his arms being shaken about in all directions by a madwoman who took him for an illiterate. And Seungkwan wasn’t faring any better on his side; Seungil refused to let him leave, on the pretext that she’d missed him too much.
Suddenly, all the commotion died down when the front door burst open and the dull thud of things being dropped on the floor could be heard.
“Children! There’s shopping to put away!” shouted a woman from the entrance. The three Boo children mechanically made their way to the door and returned with laden plastic bags. Hansol got up from the sofa and prepared to meet Mrs Jwa.
She wasn’t very tall and had a tired but warm face. She was initially surprised to see a stranger in her living room but eventually greeted him. Seungkwan appeared behind Hansol, placing his hands on his shoulders as his body gently pressed against his, and said:
“Mum, this is Hansol. He’s the one I hang out with when I’m not at the shop."
"Ah! So you’re the one stealing my son away from me! Pleased to meet you.” Hansol didn’t have time to reply to the woman before Seungkwan was already pushing him towards the stairs.
Seungkwan’s bedroom wasn’t big however there was a lot of stuff in there! Hansol had never seen so many posters, albums and plushies gathered in a single room. It wasn’t that the room was untidy or dirty, but the sheer accumulation of objects left Hansol bewildered, and he didn’t know where to fit in this world.
Seungkwan cleared some of the plushies off his bed, and a chair emerged from under a pile of jumpers – he was still a messy teenager, after all – which he pushed towards the desk.
“Make yourself at home!” he said to Hansol, gesturing towards his bed
"OK..."
"Right, shall we get started?"
"Yeah.”
*
It was a disaster; the start of the session was a disaster. The two teenagers were desperately searching for a song to perform on the day of the competition, but they couldn’t agree on anything. There was no way Hansol was going to sing a girl group song, just as there was no way Seungkwan was going to belt out a boy band song that “doesn’t say anything interesting’.”
“There must be a song that suits us both...” Hansol complained
“You search my phone and I’ll search yours. That way, we’ll find the ones we have in common,” Seungkwan suggested
“Good idea! Here.”
Hansol scrolled through the songs in Seungkwan’s music library. There were a huge number of songs, covering a wide range of styles; Hansol hadn’t realised Seungkwan was so open-minded when it came to music – he’d only ever seen him listening to songs by girl groups about love and friendship. They actually had quite a few tracks in common, but Hansol couldn’t quite see himself singing them. He was about to pick one at random when suddenly, his gaze fell on one song in particular. One that he happened to love.
Seungkwan, wondering why Hansol had suddenly frozen before smiling with satisfaction, looked over his shoulder. He murmured: “Younha’s ‘Umbrella’? I love that song.” Unfortunately, Hansol’s expression darkened and immediately he said: “ But there’s no rap..."
"There is in the Epik High version.”
Seungkwan smiled mischievously at Hansol, and Hansol mimicked him. Seungkwan was a genius.
*
“Faster, Hansol! If you slow down, we’ll be completely out of sync with the music.*
*I’m doing my best.” For the fifteenth time since they’d started practising, Hansol played the same section of ‘Umbrella’ again; which irritated him a little. He tried his best to keep up with the pace set by the rappers, but seeing Seungkwan’s unconvinced expression, he knew he still wasn’t satisfied.
Seungkwan paused the track again and handed Hansol a glass of water. “It’s getting on your nerves, is it?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair away from Hansol’s face.
“Yeah. .."
"We can take a break, if you want?"
"No, it’s fine."
"Are you sure? Because..."
"It’s fine."
Hansol had spoken much more brusquely than he’d intended, and he realised his mistake when Seungkwan muttered a curt ‘OK’ and his face closed off. He went back to sit in his desk chair and popped a handful of sweets into his mouth without so much as a glance at Hansol.
A heavy atmosphere settled in and Hansol didn’t know where to put himself or even what to say to Seungkwan to make him forgive him.
“Kwanie?” he said, uncertainly. The other boy barely reacted and Hansol took a few steps towards him. Seungkwan pretended to reread the lyrics to ‘Umbrella’ and moved his chair a little closer to the desk. “Kwanie?” Hansol placed a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder, and he brushed it away with a sharp movement. He took another handful of sweets. He was clearly ignoring him... .
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be mean to you. And anyway, you’re right, I’d better take a break. Sorry.”
Seungkwan turned round, still sitting in his chair, and said, a small smile on his lips: “ I should slap your pretty face for talking to me like that, but as I’m nice so I won’t. You’re forgiven, Hansol.”
Then he held out the packet of sweets to his friend. Hansol took a few and they began a conversation that had nothing to do with the competition.
8
If Hansol had known just how hard it would be to learn a song with Seungkwan, he probably wouldn’t have asked him to compete. Seungkwan was uncompromising; he wouldn’t tolerate a single false note, no unnecessary slowing down or speeding up, and certainly no being late. It had already been hell when they’d started rehearsals, but things had got worse when the final week before the competition began.
“Solie! Here, your éclair. And here’s a little extra."
"Mandarin juice? Thanks, Kwanie.”
Hansol dragged himself over to a table in the bakery and slumped into a chair. He’d had enough. He’d left Seungkwan’s house just before one in the morning the previous night and hadn’t managed to sleep until four o’clock. He’d only slept for an hour and a half and felt as though he were dying. It was as if everything he did, said or thought came from far away; as if he weren’t experiencing things in real time.
The chair opposite him was pulled out and Seungkwan appeared in his field of vision. The angelic image Hansol had once had of Seungkwan had long since given way to a more demonic one. He stifled a groan when the baker’s voice rang out.
“You look really tired. You went to bed late, didn’t you?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, how about taking a day off?"
"Yeah!”
Seungkwan laughed at Hansol’s sudden burst of energy, and for a few seconds, an irrational fear crept into his mind. What if Seungkwan was actually mocking him? What if he said, “No, I’m joking! Come on, get to work!’”? Hansol would probably die!
But none of that happened, and Seungkwan ran a hand through Hansol’s tangled hair before bringing him a baguette and two croissants for the rest of his family.
“Here."
Hansol handed Seungkwan the money for the lot.
"Thanks. Come on, go back to your bed. See you tomorrow.”
Hansol wanted to rest, but he didn’t want to be far from Seungkwan. Even though they didn’t talk about it, they both knew summer was coming to an end; that they would have to part ways. So without really thinking, Hansol slipped his fingers between Seungkwan’s and gently squeezed the back of his hand. He asked him softly if he would come with him.
“I’ll ask Seungmin if she can cover for me.”
Hansol didn’t know what had come over him to ask Seungkwan to come with him. He would never have acted that way if he’d had a good night’s sleep!
When he was tired, he became incredibly reckless and needy; he suspected Seungkwan had realised this very quickly from the way he was acting so cautiously around him.
After leaving the bakery in the care of the youngest Boo sister, they were heading towards Hansol's.
Although it was still early, the temperature had risen considerably and Hansol was beginning to regret having decided to wear a jumper. He wiped his damp forehead several times as he looked up at the cloudless sky and realised his other hand wasn’t free when he tried to pull his trousers up – another mistake on his part for thinking a belt would be unnecessary. He was unable to use his hand because Seungkwan had intertwined their fingers without Hansol realising – not that he minded; he really enjoyed physical contact with Seungkwan – and he thought for a few seconds about when it had happened.
There was no one there. It was just the two of them at the house; the rest of Hansol's family had probably gone out for a walk. Hansol unlocked the front door, apologising for any mess there might be.
Having been here several times before, Seungkwan clearly felt at ease. No sooner had he set foot inside than he headed for the fridge to pour them each a glass of water; Hansol practically threw himself at his own.
“You really look tired... Sorry about last night.” Hansol said there was no need to apologise “Come on, go to bed.”
Hansol obeyed and, after swapping his jumper for a simple red T-shirt, headed for his bedroom. He settled down on his mattress and a few seconds later called out to his friend.
“Stay with me.” he whinged as soon as Seungkwan’s blond head appeared through the crack in the door; Seungkwan called him a baby but came over to sit beside him anyway.
It was quiet. Quiet in a way it had never been between them before; they both felt the need to fill the silence. But today, that wasn’t the case, and Hansol loved it. For him, being able to stay with someone, to enjoy their presence without having to speak to them, meant feeling at ease. Hansol certainly felt at ease in Seungkwan’s company.
Very quietly, without taking his eyes off his friend’s profile, Hansol murmured:
“I think I really do enjoy spending time with you, Seungkwan."
"Hmm? Have you only just realised that?”
Seungkwan chuckled a little and rolled onto his side to face Hansol, whilst Hansol turned his face towards Seungkwan. They hadn’t realised they were this close to and seeing each other’s faces in such close-up unsettled them. Nevertheless, they remained in this position, which they found pleasant. Hansol loved the warmth spreading between their bodies. He could feel Seungkwan’s breath caressing his lips and one of his hands searching for his own on the mattress; Hansol took it. Seungkwan began to stroke the back of his hand with his thumb; it felt very pleasant. Hansol felt lulled to sleep.
“I feel like sleeping."
"Then sleep.”
When Hansol woke up a few hours later, Seungkwan had long since fallen asleep himself. His body barely rose with his steady breathing, his face was partly hidden by his hair, and he seemed to have snuggled a little closer to Hansol. Hansol smiled slightly as he rubbed his eyes, then tried his best to get out of bed without waking Seungkwan. Given the lack of light in the room, they’d probably slept all day. Still feeling heavy with sleep, Hansol quietly left the room, his aim being to get something to eat and drink – he was hungry; that was what had woken him. He headed towards the kitchen and thought he was having a heart attack when he realised he was being watched.
His mother, father and sister, all three sitting on the sofa, each with a book in their hands, were staring at him with interest.
Grabbing his glass, he sat down next to them on the sofa. Without taking his eyes off his son, his father placed his novel on the coffee table and put on as serious a face as he could.
“Hansol Vernon-Chwe,” he began, “I need you to be honest with us.”
“Is there a problem?”
“We didn’t expect to find you here when we got home,” he paused dramatically, “let alone in Seungkwan’s presence. In a bed.”
“Technically, we were on a mattress, but whatever.”
For some unknown reason, Hansol had become defensive, and he could see from his parents’ expressions that they’d noticed. His father placed a hand on his knee in the hope of calming him down, but it only had the opposite effect; Hansol felt less and less like staying seated there. He didn’t like the way this conversation was going.
His father continued: “What I need to know is: do you realise we’ve only got a week here left?"
"I know."
"Knowing is one thing and realising is another, darling.’ his mother took the glass Hansol was holding and placed it on the coffee table. ‘And are you sure you’ll be all right?"
"What on earth are you talking about? I’m fine, I’ll be absolutely fine; I don’t see why going back to Seoul would be so awful!”
The teenager had suddenly stood up, his father had followed suit, and just as the latter took a deep breath to tell Hansol off, the bedroom door opened.
Seungkwan appeared, looking dishevelled with a pillow mark on his cheek, a panicked expression on his face. He glanced at his phone screen and seemed to panic a little more. He finally noticed the family and called out to them:
“Good evening, Sir, Madam, Sonia! I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but I’m very late! I have to go, goodbye!”
And before he’d even managed to put his second shoe on properly, he’d vanished out of the house. A brief silence followed before Hansol also left, ignoring his father’s orders to come back.
Of course it would be hard to go back to Seoul. Even though he’d be reunited with his friends, he’d also have to go back to studying and working; he’d have to return to his monotonous life as an ordinary teenager. He didn’t know if he could handle it. Being in Jeju was brilliant; every day was about discovering something new, having fun and feeling far removed from problems; it was about being with Seungkwan.
Hansol sat on the edge of a promenade and ran his hands furiously through his hair. He didn’t want to be apart from Seungkwan. He was… he was different from the others. With how many people could Hansol feel so at ease, so at home, so happy? Only one. And he lived here, whilst he lived over there.
Hansol knew he’d only be staying in Jeju for two months, but time had eventually made him forget, and his father’s reminder had upset him. He’d naively promised Seungkwan they’d see each other again, but would that even be possible? Seungkwan didn’t seem to want to leave his family, and Hansol didn’t have enough money to return by himself for the next holidays. It was a lost cause; they’d never be able to see each other again. Oh, of course they could send each other messages or call each other, but they’d always miss that natural physical connection they’d shared.
“I’ve known him for less than two months, why am I stressing myself out like this? It’s stupid.”
That was true. He was sad because he’d spent a good month with Seungkwan, but he was sure it wouldn’t take him long to forget him.
“ Besides, I’m going to meet up with the others and it’ll be great. I’ll be too busy to think about him anyway.”
Yes, in no time at all, Seungkwan will be nothing but a memory.
It was cold. That pleasant hour in the calm of the evening had done him good; it was time to go home.
Hansol stood up and followed the path laid out by the walk. Except that instead of ending up in front of the old woman’s house, he had found himself where the path logically led: in the centre of the small shops.
A growl of annoyance escaped him and he headed towards Jwa’s bakery and patisserie and sat down on the floor.
He was hooked. Completely bitten.
“What am I going to do? Oh fuck, what am I going to do?!” he whispered, running both hands over his face. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t going to do anything, say anything. He was going to keep it to himself and never tell Seungkwan.
After a quarter of an hour, he stood up and, just as he was about to head back, panicked when he spotted a figure hidden behind the wall perpendicular to Hansol’s. He thought about running away when the idea that it might be a ghost crossed his mind, but he recognised his friend’s blonde hair.
The closer he got, the more audible the sniffling sounds became. And the faster his heart beat. He had never seen Seungkwan in this state. Not for a single second had Hansol been able to imagined him being unhappy, for he was such a naturally cheerful person. No one smiled as easily as Seungkwan; no one was as kind and approachable as him; no one had a laugh as angelic as his. And it upset Hansol to know that instead of laughing, Seungkwan was crying.
Hansol approached the small ball that his friend’s body had curled and murmured:
“Seungkwan?” Seungkwan startled at the sound of his name but did not break from his hunched position. His body was seized by irregular sobs.
Hansol slid down the wall, moving as close to him as he could. “What’s making you so sad?” he asked, stroking Seungkwan’s back.
He wasn’t sure he was doing it right – he rarely comforted people; he was more the type to be comforted himself – but Seungkwan seemed to calm down as his warm hand moved across his back; with a bit of luck, he wasn’t too bad at it.
“It’s just…” Seungkwan began in a muffled voice, “I’m too emotional, that’s all.” But Hansol could tell that wasn’t all.
“Don’t lie to me, Kwanie. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”
To coax him – “encourage” was probably more appropriate, but Hansol was far too curious for such an innocent term – into speaking, Hansol leaned towards him and, forcing him to sit up straight, pulled him close. It seemed to work.
“Tonight, we had Seungil’s boyfriend over and..."
"And?"
"It’s no secret that I don’t really like him, and he knows it. Usually, we just avoid talking to each other or keep it to the bare minimum (we say hello and ask how he’s getting on, that’s all), but I don’t know why, tonight he was in a bad mood."
"What did he do?”
That bloke might as well have spat on Seungkwan’s broccoli as actually hit him; Hansol would still have the same urge to kill him. How could anyone pick on someone as adorable as Seungkwan? That bloke was a proper arsehole.
“What he do to you, Kwanie?"
"Mum... Um. Mum told him what we were planning to do for the competition and he made fun of us. He said my voice is awful and that mixed-race people like you can’t do anything but show off with your foreign background.” He paused, as if trying to contain his annoyance, and after wiping away a few tears, continued: “I don’t know if it’s the tiredness or what, but I told him to go and get lost. And from there, it all went pear-shaped. Seungil and Mum got angry, told me off as if I was the one who’d been mean. I couldn’t take it and I left.”
Seungkwan wiped his eyes once more before Hansol gave him another hug. They stayed in the same position for a long while before Hansol whispered that Seungkwan had the most beautiful voice in all of Korea, that Seungil's boyfriend was a bastard, and that, in any case, Seungil and Mrs Jwa would eventually realise what a huge mistake they’d made.
“Sorry for crying so much, it’s ridiculous."
"Hey! Crying does you good. You shouldn’t feel ridiculous just because you’re crying. Crying is human. So cry until you’re dry, Boo!” Seungkwan laughed, Hansol followed suit, and once they’d calmed down, a pleasant silence settled in.
“Hansol?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you mind if I stay at your place tonight?"
"No. Of course not!”
Hansol was completely smitten.
Everyone had gone to bed and Hansol just went to his room to fetch a sheet and some pillows, which he laid out on the sofa. He took care to place what he was carrying down as gently as possible, and Seungkwan helped him set them up. Just as quietly, the teenagers slipped under the sheet.
Hansol didn’t know if Seungkwan was asleep, but for his part, he was struggling to close his eyes. And for good reason: he was thinking a lot.
He knew that by bringing Seungkwan here in the middle of the night, his parents would tell him off the moment they realised. Hansol wasn’t the sort of child to disobey. No, he was more the type to behave himself so as not to have to face his parents’ wrath. But unlike usual, he hadn’t thought it through when he’d let Seungkwan come.
What on earth had got into him?
“Solie?” (Ah. Seungkwan wasn’t asleep.)
"Hmm?"
"How are you feeling about the competition?"
"You know me: I’m really stressed. What about you?"
"I’m not really sure, to be honest. It’s like I’m really excited but at the same time really stressed.
Is there a word for that?
I don’t think so... We should make one up!”
Seungkwan turned to face Hansol and, despite the darkness of the room, Hansol could see his amused smile. He said in a conspiratorial tone: “Why not... Stressity?” Seungkwan laughed quietly and nodded. He then moved on to another topic (the possible break-up of an older K-pop group) and eventually fell asleep, leaving poor Hansol alone with his thoughts. Hansol eventually fell asleep from exhaustion.
“At least they’re not in a bed…” sighed when he found them wrapped up on the sofa the next morning. Neither he nor his wife said a word to the two teenagers when they woke up.
9
The hotel dining room was packed. It had been rearranged for the competition; the tables had been cleared away and only the chairs remained, this time lined up facing the small stage where musicians and singers usually performed. Two large red curtains concealed the back of the stage. Despite the apparent calm, behind the large drapes there was utter chaos. People were rushing about in all directions, whispering fervently, jostling one another; they were putting the finishing touches to the preparations.
Hansol, for his part, sat quietly in a corner; he was questioning the choices he had made in his life.
“Ready?” Seungkwan asked him, running a hand down his back
“I’m not at all ready to go on stage...” let alone head back to the capital.
Hansol had told Seungkwan the day before that he would be leaving the day after the competition, but the news had been taken strangely. Seungkwan had fallen silent and, after a few seconds of staring at the floor, started singing again. They hadn’t spoken of it since. In a way, that worried Hansol. Was Seungkwan’s indifference to the news a sign of disinterest? Had Seungkwan grown tired of him? Or perhaps it was his way of coming to terms with Hansol’s departure?
“It’ll be fine, Solie. After all, we’ve gone over the song a million times! We’ll nail it.” Seungkwan smiled at Hansol and his heart skipped a beat. To calm him down, Seungkwan regularly squeezed Hansol’s hand in his, and Hansol had to admit it worked rather well.
As the trio of young jugglers appeared backstage to the audience’s applause, someone – probably a staff member – nudged Hansol and Seungkwan right onto the stage. The presenter drew them towards him to introduce them to the audience.
“Give this charming little duo a big round of applause! (The crowd obeyed) So… . what are you going to perform for us tonight?"
"We’re going to sing a song for you,” announced Seungkwan, smiling at the audience
"A song! Brilliant! (the audience applauded again) Might we ask which one?"
"Umbrella by Younha and Epik High,” chimed in Hansol this time
"It’s a lovely song. We wish you the best of luck with your performance. Give them another round of applause to cheer them on!”
The presenter disappeared behind the curtains.
The first notes echoed through the hall as the lights dimmed. Hansol’s heart was beating much faster than the rhythm of the music, and he could barely hear the melody because of the din it created in his ears. He could feel his hands getting sweaty around the microphone and his nervous leg twitch was on the verge of starting.
Seungkwan’s voice rose and Hansol’s stress gave way to astonishment. Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard him sing, but never, ever had it been so beautiful. So powerful, emotional; magnificent.
Hansol’s opening act was coming up soon; he had to get ready. He couldn’t let Seungkwan down, especially as the latter had started his performance so magnificently. Hansol relaxed, brought the microphone closer to his face, and adopted a relaxed posture.
If there was one thing that would always impress Seungkwan, it was undoubtedly the anxious Hansol’s ability to shed all his stress and appear completely at ease once he was in front of an audience. Seungkwan smiled gently at Hansol when the latter looked his way.
The audience seemed receptive to the two teenagers’ performance; some were clapping along in time, whilst others were filming or singing the lyrics under their breath.
The chorus came and Hansol caught his breath. Bloody hell, it was hard to keep his composure in front of all those people. The chorus didn’t last long and Hansol was off again.
Seungkwan hummed as the music drew to a close.
That was the signal. Hansol began to whisper the final words into the microphone as the light faded further and further.
Hansol had never been so pleased with himself. Never had he felt such pride. Never had he been so happy to overcome his shyness.
In the darkness of the room, he felt a hand slip into his and give it a gentle squeeze. Hansol could picture Seungkwan’s gaze and beaming smile beside him; they must both have had the same look of happiness on their faces.
The music stopped and the hall was lit up again. The presenter took to the stage to the audience’s applause and the duo made their way backstage.
“You were brilliant, Hansol!” exclaimed Seungkwan, jumping on Hansol. Hansol caught him as best he could and hugged him tightly. “You too, Boo. You were perfect.”
If they were in one of those clichéd American films, Hansol would have chosen this moment of happiness and excitement to declare his feelings to Seungkwan. But that wasn’t the case, and there was no mysterious force urging him to kiss Seungkwan.
“Hansol, I…” Seungkwan couldn’t finish his sentence because someone tapped him on the shoulder. The two boys parted, annoyed that they couldn’t finish their conversation.
A man in a short-sleeved shirt and bermuda shorts stood facing them, a stern look on his face. He looked like one of those typical tourists who are always wandering about with a rucksack as big as their house on their backs. Deftly, he took an orange, black and gold card out of his wallet and held it out to the teenagers; they grabbed it at the same time.
“Sorry to interrupt your… fun. I’m a manager at Orange Caramel Entertainment. We’re looking for new talent, and I quite like your little duo. Of course, there are a few things to tweak, but I like your energy. So… get in touch if joining Orange Caramel appeals to you!”
What on earth was that all about? The two teenagers couldn’t believe it. Had they really just been offered a career in music? They’d never imagined this would happen. And the idea of becoming musicians began to take root in their minds. They pictured themselves on huge stages, singing in front of a sea of fans, having fun belting out the lyrics to their songs; they pictured each other there and all the good times they’d have together.
“Seungkwan! Hansol! Well done !”
Their families gathered round them. Seungkwan’s older sisters threw themselves at him. They struck up a casual conversation whilst the three young girls (Seungil, Seungmin and Sonia) headed to the buffet to sample all the dishes on offer. When Mrs Jwa and Mr and Mrs Vernon-Chwe forgot their sons were there, the boys slipped away.
They paid no attention to the result of the competition – the young jugglers had won first place.
Seungkwan led Hansol out of the dining room. They found themselves in one of the hotel’s many green spaces. It was much cooler outside, which Hansol found more pleasant.
Seungkwan seemed ecstatic; he kept swinging their hands back and forth, skipping along the little stone path they’d taken. He hummed a bit of ‘Umbrella’ as he led the way.
Hansol could have stayed like that forever. Hand in hand with Seungkwan, who was humming a tune he liked, and with this calm, cool and pleasant atmosphere.
“What a crazy night! There were so many people! I thought I was going to faint when I went on stage! And then, you were amazing! We’ve got to do this again!” exclaimed Seungkwan, cupping Hansol’s face in his hands. And Hansol felt himself getting lost in the sea of stars that were his friend’s sparkling eyes. “I really want to do it again. I want to do it again. I want... I want to become a singer. And this card, it’s the sign, Hansol. It’s there to tell us we can become artists. We have to find that guy from O.C. Entertainment! Tomorrow, we...”
Suddenly, Hansol’s vision blurred and he felt his cheek grow cold as a few tears rolled down. There was no tomorrow; Hansol was leaving at the crack of dawn; he wouldn’t even have time to pop in and say goodbye to Seungkwan.
He sniffed. Seungkwan stiffened and asked, surprised:
“Are... are you crying?"
"Of course not, you idiot.” Hansol quickly wiped his cheeks with the back of his hands.
“Don’t cry."
"I’m telling you, I’m not crying."
"Aish, Hansol, you’re going to make me cry... There, I’m crying.”
Seungkwan laughed a little – though it sounded sad – then let his head fall onto Hansol’s shoulder, clutching his damp hands. He hadn’t thought that parting from Hansol would hurt this much; it felt as though his heart was burning, so painful was it, and his face had become incapable of showing anything but a tortured expression. All the previous excitement had faded, and the two boys clung to the card one of their handshakes shared; as if it were the only memory of their time together.
Hansol rested his chin on the top of Seungkwan’s head and closed his eyes, letting a few tears slide down his cheeks and soak into Seungkwan’s scalp. He absent-mindedly stroked the backs of Seungkwan’s hands as he rocked him gently; his thoughts miles away. He was thinking of all the happy memories that included Seungkwan, of all the good times they’d spent together; all those feelings experienced over the past two months. A smile blossomed on his lips and he murmured: “I don’t see why we’re crying, anyway..."
"That’s true. We’ll see each other again, won’t we?”
But Hansol didn’t reply and simply let go of Seungkwan’s hands before slipping the little card into the back pocket of his jeans. His shoulder was freezing from Seungkwan’s tears. Seungkwan clutched his friend's shirt, thinking he wanted to leave. Hansol reassured him by taking him in his arms once more.
It was silent. The buzz of the hotel party didn’t reach their spot, and the creatures of the night seemed to have fallen silent so as not to disturb their farewell. Only Seungkwan’s sniffles, rising at irregular intervals, and Hansol’s breathing punctuated the silence.
“Of course we’ll see each other again. We have to.”
And as his parents called him to come home from afar, Hansol embraced his friend one last time.
10
“Hansol, get up."
"Five more minutes...”
Mrs Vernon-Chwe watched her son, wrapped in his sheets, pull his pillow over his face. She didn’t hesitate to snatch it away and said mischievously: “Aren’t you in a hurry to move into your new flat?”
Hansol reacted instantly. He got up, ran towards the bathroom and came back out in less than ten minutes. He pulled on a black hoodie as he headed for the kitchen, where he wolfed down two small chocolate brioches before glancing at the clock hanging on one of the walls. It was quarter to eleven.
“I’ll be late if I don’t leave in five minutes!” he shouted across the flat to warn his parents. Sonia protested again at the idea and flopped limply onto the sofa, pretending to cry; Hansol decided to ignore her behaviour and simply kissed her on the top of her head.
He went down the few flights of stairs separating him from the street with the last remaining moving boxes to load them into his car. After kissing his father, mother and sister, he left. He realised it had taken him more than five minutes to get going.
“It’s already so late… Never mind the boxes, the airport first.”
The place was incredibly busy that day. People were coming and going in all directions, and Hansol would probably have been disoriented if he weren’t used to such hustle and bustle. He took a lift to the second floor of the main building and approached the long glass window from which one could watch travellers collecting their suitcases from the baggage carousels.
After a few minutes of searching, Hansol finally spotted a familiar blond head and smiled. His excitement was at its peak, and Hansol hurried four at a time down the stairs to the ground floor to wait for his friend in front of the travellers’ exit.
“Seungkwan!” he he exclaimed when the young man appeared. Seungkwan looked up at the sound of his name and smiled when he finally spotted Hansol in the crowd. He made his way out of the throng as best he could, and Hansol came running to throw his arms around him.
It had been months since they’d last seen each other. Of course, they’d often called and messaged each other. They’d spoken on graduation day, on their birthdays, and even on those occasions when they were feeling down and needed to hear each other’s voices, but they still missed being together, the ability to touch or see each other other than in pixelated form...
Cupping his face in his large hands – he’d grown quite a bit since the summer holidays two years ago – Hansol asked him how the journey had gone and how his family was. Seungkwan did the same before Hansol led him to his car – hand in hand, of course. They struggled to fit the two suitcases Seungkwan had brought with him into the boot, but after just under five minutes of trying to squeeze them in, the pair were finally able to get into the car themselves.
“The flat’s close to the company. There are two bedrooms but only one bathroom, and the kitchen and living room are separated by a sliding door. I’m sure you’ll like it!”
Seungkwan smiled from ear to ear. Hansol had been talking non-stop since they’d been reunited, and Seungkwan had to admit he’d missed that over the last few years.
“My parents want us to have dinner at a restaurant tonight. Do you mind?"
"No, no. And I’d love to see them again."
"Great, I’ll send them a message later to confirm.”
Hansol hadn’t lied; the flat was really lovely. Seungkwan really liked the natural light streaming in and the feeling that everything was very spacious. The kitchen was roomy, and Seungkwan liked the pale yellow of the cupboards and the white tiles, which made the room even brighter; he could already picture himself preparing loads and loads of meals and pastries there. His bedroom already contained a few pieces of furniture – a bed, a desk and chair, and a wardrobe.
Hansol came up behind him, gave him a hug, and whispered:
“Do you like it?"
"I love it.”
THE END