Joohwan POV
"Yes, hyung…."
"We are tired of you..."
Taekwang's enraged words still rang in my ears; the honks and the lights of the city blurred around me. Was all that fuss really just about rejecting an offer? I couldn't understand why they are so upset about it, like my life depends on the offer that I never asked for.
I walked the road all the way to the bar. I pushed the tent flap aside, walking in quietly, the fluorescent lights shining yellow in the dimly lit interior, just like every other day. The air was filled with the smell of soju and the sizzling sound of bulgogi; the stall was quite packed compared to before.
I turned my head to the very spot where I always sit. Funny that every time I walk in here, I stand there and look at that spot I always sit in, and every time I stare at the place, I see Yoonsuh and me, laughing and chatting with drunken blush creeping up our faces.
The last place and time we have smiled and laughed together.
"Hyung, when are you going to serve in the military? You are already 21 hyung?" Yoonsuh asked, with his precious smile, which he does less, or that's what people thought, because he never really smiles a lot around, just like me, but when he smiles, you can see the whole white galaxy of his teeth.
I shook my head with a smile sitting on my lips. "Yah! You don't have to remind me, Yoonsuh-ah; I am already worried about whether I should go for culinary college or complete my service later."
Yoonsuh chuckled, nudging me. "Come on, hyung, follow your heart. I'll support you either way."
"Aww, look at you; we studied in the same class, and you're still being the wise one, Yoonsuh-ya," I teased, ruffling his hair.
Yoonsuh laughed loudly as I ruffled his hair, his eyes glistening. I wish I had known that was the last time I would see that smile and laugh. I wish I had known that he was still carrying the weight of loss.
I walked through those memories and pulled the chair back, sitting down with a heavy breath out. The emptiness and the absence are still loud in this already noisy place.
The ajeossi behind the counter caught my eye and gave a small nod; that one he always offers me already knew what I was having. That's what happened when you became a regular. Nobody asked questions. Nobody needed to. He set a bottle of soju in front of me without a word, and I was grateful for that more than I could say.
I poured the first glass slowly.
The chair across from me sat empty. It had always been empty since that night, but tonight it felt louder than usual. Maybe because Taekwang's words were still sitting in my chest like a stone that hadn't finished sinking.
We are tired of you.
I lifted the glass and drank. The soju burned the way it always did, cutting through the noise in my head for exactly three seconds before the noise came back louder. I poured another.
"I am tired, hyung."
I started at the empty chair.
Is that what this is, Yoonsuh-ah? I thought. Is this what you felt? That we were tired of you? That you were something people had to endure?
I had never asked him that. I thought to ask. Because I told myself there would be time. Because I was twenty-one and stupid and excited that finally my father let me join the degree I love, the talent that runs down our bloodline. I became busy. Too fucking busy that he had to send a horrible voice note.
I poured a third glass and didn't drink yet. Just looked at it. The stream of bulgogi on the next table sizzled in my eyes, slightly burning them. Someone laughed too loudly two seats down. The tent flap rustled with the night wind.
A heavy sigh escaped from my lips; I was so tired. Not the kind that sleep fixes. The kind that had settled into my bones years ago and made home there. Now, the peace I can find is in finally resting deeply in the fact that there will be no other life.
"Hyung, do you think I could play piano again?"
Yoonsuh's words echoed through the memories in my head. I stared at the chair until the memory came alive, erasing the rush of the bar, and Yoonsuh was sitting in front of me, with his lips pressed together, his cheeks flushed due to the soju, and his eyes lowered, staring at the bottle sadly.
"Yah! Didn't you say that I should follow my way, then you should too. Don't think about your father or anything; hyung is always here for you."
"I know you will, hyung…always." Yoonsuh looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with tears while his lips curled into a huge grin. "You are always there for me..."
I blinked my eyes just to see the empty chair still. l, A dry chuckle escaped from my lips at the recalling of Yoonsuh's words, his innocent smile that had faith in me that I would be there for him, while I just showed up late when the fire was swallowing him,m and he had that same fucking smile that he gave me when he said I was there for him.
I reached for the glass to swallow the bitter taste of regret that lingered in my mouth.
"Joohwan-ssi."
I stopped before picking up the glass. That voice… I turned my head, already knowing somehow before I even looked. And there he is, Han Sungmin, standing just next to the chair across the table, his hair a little windblown, wearing a usual t-shirt and track pants, unlike his office fit, his hazel eyes a little wide as if he didn't expect me here.
Of all the people. Of all the places.
I set the glass as it was.
"What are you doing here?" I asked flatly.
He didn't answer immediately. Just looked at me, then at the bottle, then at the empty chair across from me where he is standing next to. And without even asking, he pulled up the chair and sat down.
"I am just passing by," he said simply.
I reached for my glass again and drank the drink but didn't nod or say a word.
The silence between us stretched long enough that I thought maybe he would just get up and leave. Most people did, eventually, when I didn't give them anything to hold on to, but he didn't leave.
He just sat there, elbows on the table, looking around like he had all the time in the world. Like sitting across from someone who didn't want him there was perfectly comfortable.
It's irritating.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I asked.
He first didn't respond, drumming his fingertips on the table and looking around as if thinking about what he had to order, totally ignoring my question, or so I thought, but he then looked at me and asked, "You asked me?"
Then a small smile. "I thought it was someone else, sorry," he said.
"Never mind," I said and poured another glass of soju.
"Well, I don't have any work so far because one chef has rejected our offer," he muttered, turning aside as if I weren't staring at him squarely. "So I had no work or place to go," he said.
I stared at him for a second, thinking if he was being serious or just making an excuse to bring up the rejection topic again. Noticing my pointed stare, he gave a tight-lipped chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the edges very awkwardly.
"I'm just joking," he said with an open smile, but his shoulders didn't relax, clearly showing that he was just pretending that he was not joking.
I exhaled, tilting my head before reaching for the soju bottle. But before my hand could reach the bottle, he quickly grabbed it. I looked at him with my brows knitted at his sudden action.
"You see, you can't pour a drink for yourself when someone is sitting across from you," he said, flashing a grin.
"I am not your senior at work," I said, reaching my hand out for the bottle.
But this guy is so annoying; he moved his hand out of my reach, shaking his head. "Maybe not senior at work, but in age, yes, are you, so let me pour a drink for you, Joohwan-ssi. "
I huffed quietly, leaning back in the chair while his grin spread wide as if it were a win for him. I reluctantly accepted, maybe due to alcohol kicking in or something; I couldn't bring myself to fight back.
"Pouring a drink on your own brings you bad luck, you know," he said teasingly, glancing over his lashes before he gripped the soju bottle with his right hand, gently resting his left palm beneath his tight forearm, just like how a junior pours for an elder. The clear liquid splashed into my glass, hitting the glass walls until it stopped perfectly two-thirds of the way to the brim.
"There you go," Sungmin said, setting the bottle down with a soft click. He quickly picked up the empty glass set on the table and held it out toward me with both hands, his head tilting expectantly. "Now it's your turn to return the favor?"
I started at the bottle, then at his wide eyes that were shining like stars in the dark, then were eaten by light and still shone their best. I shook my head, closing my eyes with a tired sigh. I couldn't say more.
Instead of fighting back, I simply reached for the green glass bottle and tipped the bottle forward with one hand, watching the liquid fill the glass, almost emptying the bottle.
"Thank you," he said, beaming another smile my way.
It's so tiring; like, how could he smile before a word and after a word? It's like he never runs out of energy, while I feel drained just watching his smile variations from awkward and nervous to this beaming.
It's so exhausting. I thought of reaching for the bottle for the last shot, but again, it was quickly grabbed by him. No, it's not just annoying; it's frustrating. Can't I just have a drink for myself without the help of another one?
As he poured the last shot and leaned back, I didn't pick up the glass; I stared at him. His smile finally faltered a little when he looked up at me.
Then he sighed, putting the empty bottle down on the table, closing his eyes. His shoulder slumped down, and he whispered, "I'm sorry."
I said nothing but stared at him.
"about that sudden offer,"
I picked up the glass, swallowing the last one. "Is that what you came here for?" I asked, because that's what I thought: how a person can meet these many times in the name of coincidence.