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“So…” Pio tightened his grip on the bag he was holding. “Are you a priest now?”
He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but there was a hint of worry in his voice that he could not conceal.
Jeongyo left out a soft chuckle before he replied, “Aren’t you a Christian? You should know becoming a priest takes more than three years.”
“Are you going to be a priest, then?”
“No. I found myself in that church because I was looking for peace, an escape from the life I had in Seoul. I ended up in charge of the choir, but I don’t intend to become a priest.”
Pio dropped his bag on the floor. “That’s a relief,” he said before he could stop himself.
“Why’s that?” Jeongyo raised his eyebrow.
The smug impression on his face made Pio turn away. He looked around, finally noticing that there was only one bed. Jeongyo’s apartment consisted of a bedroom with a kitchenette and a bathroom. It was just a little bigger than his dorm in high school.
“Are you sure I can stay here?” Pio asked in an attempt to change the topic. “I could book a room in a hotel. I don’t want to cause you any inconvenience.”
“Stay. I insist.” Jeongyo took out a towel from the wardrobe and handed it to Pio. “Go take a shower. I’ll prepare you a fresh bedding. You’ll get the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No way. There’s enough room on the bed for the both of us.”
And before he could see the reaction on Jeongyo’s face, Pio grabbed his bag, rushed to the bathroom and loudly closed the door behind him. There he looked at his reflection in the mirror, shaking his head with disappointment.
Why was he so nervous? He had spent the last two hours in Jeongyo’s presence, avoiding his gaze and speaking about trivial things not to have to face the emotions that had filled him as soon as they had reunited.
There was so much longing and yearning in him that even with Jeongyo on the other side of the door, he still felt like he could explode from these feelings at any moment. He grasped the sink with both hands, taking deep breaths, but his heart was still pounding too fast.
He had no idea at which point he found himself under the shower and how long he stood there, barely feeling the water fall on him.
He kept thinking about the smile that had brightened Jeongyo’s face the moment their eyes had met in the church. And about the time they had spent in a small local restaurant, eating dinner with their thighs touching under the table. And about the fact that they were now in Jeongyo’s apartment, just the two of them, and he could no longer postpone the conversation they were supposed to have.
Pio wished he was as good with words as Jeongyo. There was so much he wanted to tell him but did not know how to. In the past, he had often been mean to Jeongyo or had lied to him because that had been easier than saying what he had really felt. These strong feelings terrified Pio, made him feel vulnerable even know, when he finally knew how to name them.
Perhaps he had always known, but only losing Jeongyo for the third time had helped him accept the truth. The only thing left was to say it all loud out.
When he came back from the bathroom wearing pajamas and with his hair damp, Jeongyo raised from the bed he had been sitting on. The corners of his lips lifted in a smile that caused Pio’s heart to skip a beat.
“I almost fell asleep waiting for you,” Jeongyo joked, grabbing his own pajamas on the way to the bathroom. “There’s some food in the fridge if you’re still hungry. I noticed you didn’t eat much during dinner.”
“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
Jeongyo nodded and disappeared in the bathroom. Pio decided that he should not just stand there like an idiot, so he sat on the bed at the exact spot Jeongyo had previously occupied and started mindlessly scrolling on his phone. When he noticed his fingers slightly shaking, he threw the phone on the ground, lay on his back and covered his face with his hands.
He really had to get a grip on himself. He was not a teenager with his first crush. He was a thirty-year-old man who should finally confess to the love of his life. He could do it.
The sound of the door opening made him sit up.
“Maybe we-” Jeongyo started.
“Three years ago… Why did you leave?” Pio interrupted, but like it always was in his case the wrong words left his mouth.
He must have really wanted to ask this question. The pain of losing Jeongyo had weighted on him for so long that he could not keep it in any longer.
“Me,” he almost added. “Why did you leave me?”
Jeongyo stopped in the middle of the room, visibly taken aback. “Pio-ah...”
“Why did you lie to me?” Pio continued, not waiting for the answer. His shaky voice revealed the emotions surging through him. “I spoke to your doctor so I know you can’t play the piano anymore.”
He had not planned for this conversation to go in such a way, but now that those words hung between them, he understood that they were necessary. Jeongyo and Pio had to clear some things up before they could move on, together or apart.
Jeongyo put his left hand on his right shoulder in what seemed like an unconscious gesture as he sat next to Pio. “You know why.” Their eyes met. “I wanted you to play again and to do it you had to let go of your guilt.”
“So you took the injection for me?” He clenched his fists on his lap. “Another sacrifice on your part to make me feel better?”
“I did it for myself as much as I did it for you. I wanted to play the piano with you for the last time, Pio-ah.” There was no hint of sadness on his face. It was as if he had already come to terms with his situation and had no regrets. “I enjoyed it a lot. Playing with you that day.”
“But why did you leave?” Pio asked, his voice filled with desperation. “Why didn’t you stay and tell me the truth? I would continue to play the piano, Jeongyo-ah. And I would be there for you. Instead you were completely alone.”
Jeongyo put on another smile, stroking his right shoulder. “I told you I needed to find some peace and I knew I wouldn’t find it in South Korea.”
“You wouldn’t find it with me.”
“That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t running from you, Pio-ah. If I was, I wouldn’t send you that postcard, basically inviting you to visit me. I knew you would come. I knew you would find me. You always do.”
Pio looked him in the face, suddenly rendered speechless. Then he moved his gaze to Jeongyo’s right shoulder.
“Can I see it?” he whispered. “Your scar?”
If Jeongyo was surprised by this request he did not let it show. Without hesitation, he took of his shirt. Pio noticed a wince on Jeongyo’s face before he tried to cover it with a smile.
“Does it hurt?” Pio asked, shifting his position on the bed so he could see the scar left by a bullet on Jeongyo’s shoulder.
“Sometimes,” Jeongyo replied, but Pio knew it was an understatement. It must have hurt all the time.
“Does it hurt now?” Unable to stop himself, Pio hold out his hand and gently brushed the place with his fingers. “When I do this? Should I stop?”
“No, it’s okay. It just tingles a little.”
Pio smiled for the first time since they had arrived at Jeongyo’s. He felt the ache inside at the sight of the scar, but Jeongyo truly did not seem like he was in pain. Or maybe he was, but at least Pio’s touch did not make it worse.
Driven by the sudden confidence, Pio leaned over and left a kiss on the scar. He wished he could heal it with this gesture but since it was impossible, he hoped that at least Jeongyo would understand his intention. There was nothing sexual about it. It was just an attempt to bring softness where pain had been inflicted.
“Pio-ah.” Jeongyo left out a heavy breath. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Pio said in a hoarse voice. “It’s all my-”
“Stop.” Jeongyo turned to look at him. “This is what I wanted to put an end to three years ago. Your guilt.”
He took Pio’s hand in his left one, raised it to his mouth and lightly brushed every finger with his lips, one by one. Each touch, though brief and light, sent a shiver down Pio’s spine.
“You bled because of me.” Jeongyo continued, his eyes filled with indescribable emotions. “My revenge almost destroyed your hands. Do you resent me for this?” Pio shook his head without skipping a beat. “So let’s never apologize to each other again, okay? All is forgiven.”
It was as if some kind of dam broke inside of Pio, letting his feelings flow freely. He grabbed Jeongyo’s hand that had just let go of his and interlaced their fingers. Jeongyo’s lips parted a little but his gaze never left Pio’s eyes.
“If I can’t say sorry, I’ll say something else.” Pio reached out with his other hand and as gently as possible he brushed a damp strand of hair from Jeongyo’s face. “Something I should’ve told you a long time ago. It might have saved us all the misunderstandings.”
He had never said it out loud, not even to his mother.
Now, looking at the man he needed more than air, he found the courage to open his heart and confess, “I love you, Jeongyo-ah.”
It only now dawned on him that Jeongyo had not expected to hear these four words. The journey of emotions that went through his face was a beautiful experience to witness: from initial shock to happiness mixed with relief. Had he ever doubted the strength of Pio’s feelings towards him? If so, Pio was ready to keep telling him how much he loved him every single day from now on.
“Since when?” Jeongyo finally whispered, his eyes shimmering with tears.
“Looking back, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen. Since the night I realized that your smiling face was a view more breathtaking than a sky full of stars.” He grinned, thinking about that day of their first practice at school. “It took me a long time to accept it and well, I wasn’t always the best at treating you properly. I understand if there were moments you thought I hated you.”
Jeongyo chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “So you’ve loved me all this time? Even when we were apart?”
“We spent more time apart than together.” Their smiles faded when Pio pointed that out. But before they could let sadness overwhelm them, Pio moved closer on the bed and cupped Jeongyo’s face in his hands. “I missed you every second I spent without you. Those nine years, when I didn’t know if I would ever see you again, were a torture to me. I prayed for your return and thought to myself that if it happened, I’d be better to you. I would’t begrudge you the affection you deserved. And then when you returned I was so relieved but-”
“I pretended not to remember you and almost destroyed you in the name of revenge,” Jeongyo finished, glancing at Pio with regret. “And you were ready to let me do it. I wish you had confessed back then.”
“I should have,” Pio admitted. “Then you disappeared again and I thought I’d never get the chance. So now that I’ve found you I’m not going to waste more time, Jeongyo-ah. You’re my light and hope, too. And when you have someone like this in your life, you must hold onto them forever.”
Jeongyo wrapped his arms around Pio’s waist and pulled him on his lap. That sudden movement left Pio speechless, the thoughts in his head stumbling over each other. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, he felt a soft brush of Jeongyo’s lips against his. Just like the previous kisses on his fingers, it sent a shiver down his spine.
“What?” Jeongyo asked, when Pio pulled slightly away to look him in the eyes. “You said we must hold onto each other forever. I’m never letting you go, then.”
Again with that smugness on his face.
“Fine,” Pio replied shortly. There was a fire growing in him and prompting him to settle more comfortably on Jeongyo’s lap. They both gasped, feeling each other so near.
This time it was Pio who closed the gap between their lips. He sank his fingers in Jeongyo’s hair and kissed him deeply. Jeongyo’s hands were wandering on Pio’s back as he kept reciprocating every kiss with the passion of a starving man.
“You have no idea how often I dreamed of doing this,” Jeongyo confessed when their lips finally parted. They were sitting with their foreheads pressed together and their eyes closed. “I wanted to kiss you every time we played piano together.”
The image came to Pio’s mind: his back pressed against the piano, Jeongyo leaning over him and kissing him until they both could not breathe anymore.
“Maybe we should look for some piano. I’ll play for you and then you can kiss me to make your fantasy comes true.”
“Brat,” Jeongyo murmured, but when Pio glanced at him, there was a soft smile on his face. “By the way, how much time do we have before you go back to Seoul?”
“All the time in the world, I guess. I’m not going back.” Pio laughed at the shock in Jeongyo’s eyes. “What? Did you think I traveled so far and confessed my feelings just to leave you in a few days? I’m never parting with you again.”
“But Pio-ah… I like it here. I don’t know when, if ever, I’ll return to South Korea.”
“Then we’ll stay here. Get a bigger apartment than this, maybe a house in a remote place? You’ll keep conducting the church choir, I’ll play the piano during small events. We’ll figure out how Nocturne was supposed to sound like together.”
Jeongyo’s eyes lighted up at the idea, but there was still some doubt in them as well. “What about your life in South Korea?”
Smiling, Pio wrapped his arms around Jeongyo's neck.
“What life? My life is you and music and I can have both here. I don’t need anything else to feel happy.”
The joy on Jeongyo’s face almost made Pio’s heart jump out of his chest. He pulled him closer into a warm embrace, the one he craved three years ago during their reunion. Jeongyo buried his face in his shoulder, and Pio placed his hand on the back of his head, caressing it gently. This hug was long overdue, filled with all the yearning they had both been living with for the last thirteen years.
“Thank you,” Jeongyo whispered. “For finding me. I’m sorry I left you. I’ll never do it again.”
“I’ll take your word for it. But Jeongyo-ah, you said no apologises.”
“If I can’t say sorry, I’ll say something else,” Jeongyo repeated his previous words. They pulled away slightly to look at each other. Even though he expected what would come next, Pio’s heart still skipped a beat when Jeongyo confessed, “I love you, Pio-ah.”
Pio had known it already. Jeongyo had expressed his feelings through actions and words many times, and yet hearing it all out loud made him happier than ever. A chuckle left his mouth before he kissed Jeongyo again; first on the lips, then the neck, then the right shoulder. Jeongyo’s quiet moans were the best melody.
Later, as they lay among the crumpled sheets and Jeongyo ran the fingers of his left hand over Pio’s stomach as if playing the piano, and the air was filled with the sound of their laughters, the painful past was completely forgotten and all that mattered was the present moment.