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“Maybe the tie is overkill. Do you think the tie is overkill?” My fingers dexterously fidget with the knot so it’s even and where it should be without accidentally choking my super nervous trying not to be nervous and utterly failing boyfriend.
“I think you wanted to show your brother that you were respectable these days and that following your dream was a good idea. You said the tie symbolized upstandingness.” My hands smooth out his button down shirt so the collar wraps appropriately around his tie. This was the third tie he had tried yet this morning. He takes a selfie faster than getting ready has taken so far.
He frowns at the mirror. I look up at him to try to encourage him, but all he does is take the tie off again. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even look like myself like that. I’ll just toss on a blazer and we can go. That’s good enough.”
I smile; I had told him that yesterday when we were tossing everything from his closet onto the bed. The tie gets thrown in the corner and he grabs the blazer from the chair it was draped over, quickly spreading it across his shoulders, and not even looking in the mirror. His hands start patting at his coat, looking for the cigarettes I know don’t exist anymore in the house. I checked.
My hands reach to gently grab his wrists. “Calm down, sweetie. It’s just lunch.”
“I really wish I had some cigarettes, that would calm me down.”
“No you don’t. You’ve been quit a month and it would be a shame to break that. The worst of it is done now, you just need different coping mechanisms.” I pull him down a little so I can reach up and kiss him. “Besides, I prefer you tasting like this rather than old tobacco.” Kiss him again, anything to reinforce that I like the change he has made. He kisses a little more forcefully on the second kiss.
He slips his wrists out of my hands, and slides his arms around my waist. “Mmmmm. We could continue this instead…” His roaming hands are such a distraction, but it had been a bit too much work to get this lunch arranged between his schedule and his brother’s. Zen’s eyes are so mischievous while I’m giving him a look that can only say Really? Come on. I don’t even have to say a word when he sighs. “Okay. Let’s get going.” His voice is about as doom ridden as I’ve ever heard it out of him.
“Cheer up, Zen. Whatever happens, it will be okay. And at least you’ll have made the effort.” I reach out my hand to him and he gingerly takes it up in his own. He smiles, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. I guess it’s one thing to have called your brother finally, it’s an entirely different thing to meet up face to face after a decade.
*******
Door bells chime as we enter the cafe we set for lunch. I thought we’d be doing well getting there five minutes early, but I see Zen looking at a gentleman who is looking at his watch impatiently. Zen freezes looking at who I can only assume is his brother, so I squeeze his hand. My suspicion is confirmed when the man looks up and locks eyes with Zen. His nose is similar; lips too. Even cheekbones. But the rest they couldn’t have been more night and day.
Zen squares his shoulders and guides me to the table, his slightly trembling hand in the small of my back.
"H-Hyun?" His brother's eyes are wide, contrasting with the stern line of his lips. I don't think Zen is the only one nervous about this meeting. Ethereal though Zen is, his brother seems as if a ghost is right in front of. In a sense, I guess it's true given the unfinished business between them.
"Jun-tae?" I'm so proud of Zen, his voice did not crack as he worried it would. For a moment, tension weaves around the two brothers enmeshing them in uncertainty. I know Zen, he wants to hug his brother but is warring with the need to be perceived as what he thinks a mature adult is. He's treating it as if it's a role, distancing himself to protect himself. But he does have a hand outstretched to his brother.
Jun-tae stands up and looks at the hand a moment. Next thing I see, hands are not only clasped, but he has pulled Zen into a brief embrace. I'm not certain, but I think I hear a muttered, "We truly thought you were dead," drift through the clicking chopsticks and ice in glasses.
Zen looks startled as they separate just awkwardly. "We had talked on the phone for half an hour. Emailed a dozen times."
"You weren't the first to try in 10 years," his brother grimaces and gestures for us to sit down, which we do.
"But the modeling contract for Wilson Leather. The voice over links. The YouTube links. The DVD I sent of my last leading role..." The calm Zen had been struggling to maintain falls away as the disbelief mounts in the face of Jun-tae's stony countenance. Behind myself and his brother, he seats himself as well.
"Computers can alter a number of things." I sit back to observe. This was very much not on our radar for how this meeting would go. A closer look at Jun-tae, he looks older than his 35 years. Hair already getting a salt and pepper look. More lines than would be normal. I suspect between work, his missing brother, and who knows what else, he’s aged faster than he might have otherwise.
"What happened to you, Jun-tae?"
"I could ask you the same, Hyun."
"How could you not even know your own brother?" The speed of his speech is the only hint that Zen is barely holding on to his patience with this. We talked about a thousand different ways this could go. This was not a scenario he had emotionally prepared for.
"Private investigators. Imposters. Blackmail. You disappeared off the face of the earth.” Jun-tae shrugs. “You give up after a while."
"You knew my passions, I've been gaining fans and exposure. Did you really have so little faith in my talents?" Zen fist grips and releases against my thigh during back and forth with his brother, his voice getting progressively louder.
The last thing we want is a scene here and for fans to witness a family argument. I place my hand gently on his elbow. "Zen, musical theatre is a pretty specific slice of entertainment. If they'd been through false leads before, they wouldn't get their hopes up, and it's not something they would typically stumble across."
Zen settles a bit, but I can tell he's still not thrilled. "I just didn't want them dragging me back before I had somewhat made it."
"Hyun, are you at least going to introduce me to this young woman that can't even address you properly?"
My eyes flash, but I see Zen's look soften toward me. "Jun-tae, this is _________, the love of my life." His hand curls around mine so gently. "And she addresses me as I asked her to."
Jun-tae's eyebrow shoots up above his hawk-like eyes. I can practically hear him think, "Well, artists are eccentric, I guess," but he keeps silent beyond a slight head nod toward me. I feel like he has already appraised me but I can’t tell if he approves.
The waiter walks over at that point where there’s a lull in the conversation and quickly asks if we have anything to order as the new people to the table. After a brief conversation about options, Zen orders the both of us some tea while we look over the lunch options.
The way that his fingers move in front of his face while he’s talking to the waiter and thinking, I find him so elegant, but I also know that he’s pulling from one of his recent roles. Unlike his usual self, I can’t read him to tell if he’s trying to impress his brother or if he’s just trying to distance himself.
This opaque Zen is not anything like what I’m used to. He’s not even like this with Jumin that he has told me over and over is very much like his brother. I see a bit of resemblance, but even Jumin has a sense of humor, peculiar though it might be. I see no hint of that from the stranger before me and Zen is definitely reacting to that.
I wonder if this is what it was like when he was living with them. I understand a little better why he ran away if it was.
“How long have you been seeing each other then?” His brother is at least trying to keep up some polite conversation, and I suspect since Zen was softer when talking about me I make the best of topics.
“A little over half a year,” I supply with a smile. “We met through a charity fundraising organization we both volunteer for in our spare time.”
“So all of your time, then?”
My smile falters. “N-no. I-I have a… W-we both…”
“You don’t have to rise to his bait.” Zen’s look is stormy, the line of his jaw is set and barely moves as he growls that out. “You do not need to bring her into that cat and mouse game you play, Jun-tae.”
“Hyun, let’s cut to the chase. Why is it that you set up this meeting? Have you finally gotten yourself into so much trouble…”
“I am doing QUITE well, that is not what this is about.” His voice definitely reaching to too loud, he’s finally been goaded by his brother. I grab his hand and he steadies with a deep breath. Eyes turn away from our little table back to their food at the other tables. “I wanted… I hoped… Can’t you be happy for what I’ve made of myself?”
My heart breaks looking at the tense plea on my beloved’s face. His brother’s face is unyielding and stoney, 100% the lawyer going in for the kill of the opposition.
“And what would that, precisely, be? A pretty face with some flashy clothes and a silver tongue to get any woman to support you?”
If there is anything to be said for the resolution Jumin and Zen have come to in the months since I met the RFA, when someone takes the other the top approach he’s at least aware of his anger and can dial it back. Jumin certainly gave him enough practice.
The mask comes down at least again, this time of the haughty prince of his last show. “I take care of her perfectly fine. In another year or two, I’ll be making more than you. And art is it’s own reward with the beauty it brings to the world. But I wouldn’t expect a dullard like you to understand or appreciate such nuances.” Okay, more than just a mask. He lifted a few of those phrases directly.
Interestingly enough though, Jun-tae smirks. The waitress slips the tea onto the table and scurries away quickly. I know my face is scarlet with embarrassment at the scene playing out before me just from how hot it feels.
“You best be careful, _______. A temper like that could be unfortunate to deal with in a partner.”
All the heat in my face expels forth in my words towards this rude man I have a hard time believing is related to my sweet Zen. “His temper never turns towards me because I treat him with respect.”
“Don’t bother, _____. I can see this was a mistake. I’ll just go to see Mother and Father directly.” Apparently I had lunged forward a little in my attempt to defend Zen. His fingers were gentle but firm on my upper arm, holding me back out of the steam rising from my cup of tea. But Zen, his voice was sad.
Across the table, he looks calmer than he has the entire exchange. It’s as though Zen had passed some sort of test; that even though the exchange got heated, he could pull himself together. Jun-tae’s voice is soft, the look in his eyes pitying. “You seem to have indeed made something of yourself. But I wouldn’t if I were you. They are exceptionally devout these days, and if you thought it bad when we were young, they don’t see music as anything wholesome and they maintain they have only one son.”
“I’ll tilt at any windmill I have to to get them to accept me and my future bride.”
Bride? Shock shuttered my face at his words. We’d gone on flights of fancy from time to time, but I was never certain before now that he was serious about it.
“Perhaps you should consult your bride first before you call her that,” Jun-tae chuckles. Zen pulls out his wallet for the bill and tosses down more won than is actually necessary for even a full lunch, instead of just our chilling never touched tea.
“It was good to see you, Jun-tae. We should do this again,” the dismissive note in his voice rings clear. He helps me to my feet like the gentleman he is, no matter how dazed I am at how this spun. “Enjoy your lunch.”
If he was nervous before, the stillness of his fingers at my back is just as striking as he guides me out of the restaurant. A wave of whispers ripple and rebound behind us like the wake of a boat. We sweep out of the restaurant and turn a corner before Zen stops and leans his forearms against the side of the building, his head hanging.
This time, it’s my turn to comfort him. He shakes, and his breathing is hard, but from what I can see, he’s not actually crying. I’m sure he wants to though, out of sight of the public here. He melts underneath my fingertips. A single kick to the wall, and he turns to look at me.
“Well, that was an unmitigated disaster.” Pain drips from his voice instead of tears from his eyes. I gather him to me, and he clings to my smaller form.
“We can try again. I… I think he might have provoked to try to…. Well, I”m not sure why. But he seemed to back off after I…”
A muffled interruption cut through my stumbling, “Yes, he was trying to see how he could make us dance and we fell right into his choreography.” Zen took a deep breath and pulled away again. Much softer, “Let’s go home.”
“We can try again.”
“Jun-tae has my contact information. He can make the next step. My parents…” Here, here his voice cracked. A clearing of his voice. “I wasn’t kidding. I will make them accept us. Me. And when I do, then I will ask you to marry me. Will… will you wait for that to happen?”
Weighted down with uncertainty as he is, it pains me to pull back from him, but I need to look him in the eye for this. “I’ll wait until the end of time if that’s what it takes, love. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
A single tear slides down his flushed alabaster cheek. He doesn’t answer. But he kisses me with the gentlest of lips; like the future is too fragile to behold. He tastes of gratitude. His hand slides to encapsulate mine, and we walk back towards the subway to go home, subdued and wondering.