Hyun took his time getting out of the shower, wiping his hair with a soft towel, and quietly opened the door of the room. Jensen was still asleep when he left to wash, so he didn't dare to wake him. When he entered the bedroom, however, he immediately froze. A towel dangling from his head fell on his shoulder.
Jensen was sitting on the bed, hunched over, looking as if he had blown about three cans of soju the day before. His black hair was carelessly mussed in all directions, like straw, and one side of his face was bouffant with the imprint of a fine braided bracelet hanging from his wrist. His eyes were sleepily clouded.
He wobbled strangely, it seemed as if he would have fallen to the floor just a little more. Hyun put the towel away on the bed and, stopping beside his brother, said:
"You look like you've come back from a drinking binge. I'll get some water."
Jensen, yawning sluggishly, turned his sleepy reddened face toward the slammed door and wheezed out:
"Mm."
Gratefully accepting a glass of fresh water, he drained it halfway and sighed loudly. Hyun, meanwhile, began to make his bed, playing the soft, quiet melody he listened to every morning in the room. Jensen, feeling everything inside blurry and his head gradually turning cloudy, slapped himself lightly on the cheek, finally waking up. He took a few more sips and asked:
"How are your bruises?"
Hyun turned to his brother and lifted up his pajamas. The place where the impressive greenish bruises had sprawled a couple of days ago looked redder, but much healthier.
"It's okay," Hyun replied. There was a soft smile on his lips. "Thank you."
Jensen brushed it off.
"If anything happens, always let me know," he said in a firm, confident tone, placing the cup on the edge of the table with a thud. Hyun nodded and turned away, continuing to make the bed.
The bear face on Jensen's pajamas wrinkled angrily from the folds that had formed.
"Where's Du San?" he asked, rising from the bed and doing a light warm-up.
"Mom got called into work for a while. Said there was some mess with the paperwork. She'll be back soon."
"Mm, I see."
Jensen opened the window a couple of centimeters and headed for the bathroom. Hyun, when he was done, tossed him afterwards:
"I'll make your bed."
"Thank you."
He went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cool water on his face. The mirror reflected a sluggish and slightly swollen, disgruntled face. Stretching his cheeks apart, he massaged his neck in sharp motions and rinsed again. His gaze fell on a glass of multicolored brushes.
A slight transparent smile appeared on his lips.
It was as if there had always been three of them in that cup.
He picked up some mint toothpaste, squeezed out a few drops, and began brushing his teeth.
A white lightbulb rattled softly over his head.
When he entered the kitchen, where the dim rays of the winter sun were streaming in through the window, he scrambled to open the refrigerator door and ducked his head in, trying to find breakfast. Hyun, getting close to his brother, slapped him on the back. Jensen flinched, not hearing his quiet footsteps, and grunted in an aged manner.
"What are we having for breakfast today?"
"Mom made pancakes with green onions. In that bowl," he pointed to the highest shelf, where there was a small saucer covered with a lid. Jensen reached out and, closing the refrigerator, placed breakfast on the table.
When he opened the lid, they immediately pounced greedily on the food. Hyun rushed to the cabinet, pulling out a sweet sauce and dipping a crispy pancake in it.
Jensen straightened up, licking his fingers coated in sweet fat. His gaze happened to stumble upon a calendar.
Friday.
He stared thoughtfully at the refrigerator.
"Do we have kimchi?"
"Of course," Hyun hummed, devouring his fourth pancake and washing it down with a glass of water. "If Mom lives in this apartment, there's bound to be kimchi in it. I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up one morning and there's a huge basin full of kimchi under my nose."
Jensen laughed softly.
As he leaned against the stove, he took out some toast and, pouring oil on it, carefully placed it in the frying pan. The oil hissed with a crackle on the fire.
"What are you going to do?" asked Hyun with interest. He wiped his oily mouth with a towel and stared at the class chat room where their head teacher had just dropped off his literature homework.
Jensen pulled out cream cheese, cilantro, and kimchi packed in a container from the refrigerator.
"Toast with kimchi."
After washing the cilantro and chopping it on a board, he mixed it with two spoonfuls of cheese and fragrant, spicy kimchi.
"I'll be back a little later today," Jensen tossed as he flipped the toast flipping in the frying pan.
Hyun heard that, and stepped away from the phone with an amazed eyebrow raised.
"Going somewhere after school?"
"There's a job to do. I'll be back before ten, don't worry."
Hyun rolled his eyes.
"Like I care about a boogeyman like you."
Suddenly the expression on his face became more frowning. He moved closer to the phone, almost touching it with the tip of his nose. Jensen, noticing this, smirked slightly.
"What the fuck is that on your face?!" he exclaimed, pointing his spatula at his brother.
He twitched, immediately starting to finger his own face. His eyes grew wide with fear and his breathing became more labored.
"What is it!" he howled impatiently, trying to grope his face for what caused his brother to have such a reaction.
Jensen, pressing his thigh against the tabletop, smirked enigmatically and gave out:
"My look?"
Hyun, hearing this, pulled his hands away from his face and, blushing, threw chopsticks at the guy.
"Ew! And that's the kind of thing you conquer girls with?" his lips pressed together mockingly.
Jensen laughed.
"Why?"
"It's cheesy," Hyun waved him off and picked up his phone again.
"Come on, I just wanted to cheer you up," he nodded, turning back and lifting some toast to see if it was toasted. The soft ruddy crust caused a wave of appetite in his stomach, but he immediately smothered it with the last pancake on his plate.
Hyun tilted his head. His pouty lips folded into a shy smile. He stifled a laugh and began flipping through a ribbon of messages.
There was the sound of a key. The door to the apartment opened ajar, and Du San immediately flew in. Shaking the snow off her head, she quickly slipped out of her boots, hanging her warm coat on the hook on the way. The woman's flushed face appeared in the kitchen. When she saw the schoolchildren, she smiled pleasantly.
"You awake already?"
"Yeah. What's up with the paperwork?"
"It's fine," Du San hastily pulled a barrette out of her hair and brushed it through. She stopped by the table and continued softly. "Just for the weekend, I'll have to do some extra work. You can manage on your own here, right?"
Hyun looked at her and pursed his lips and seemed to want to say something, but Jensen immediately interrupted him:
"Sure. It'll be fine."
The woman smiled happily. Looking at the heart-shaped wooden clock hanging near the calendar, she waved her hands frantically.
"Oh, my favorite drama is starting now! How just in time I made it, eh!" she gently scratched her son's head, stretched her dry lips in a smile once more, and hurriedly headed into the living room. After a couple of minutes the sounds of a romantic comedy came from there.
Jensen patted his brother on the shoulder and patted the dark hedgehog on the back of his head.
Returning to cooking, he placed the toast on a plate and smeared it thickly with cream cheese and kimchi sauce. Taking out an empty container, he filled it with tonight's dinner and put it in the refrigerator, waiting for it to cool.
Pouring himself a juice, Jensen went into the living room and, with a tired sigh, flopped down on the couch next to Du San, who, without looking away, with wild interest was looking at the actors on the screen. She caught movement from the side, she looked at Jensen tenderly and lightly squeezed his shoulder.
The day was beginning just fine.
***
When class was over, Jensen made his way to the Gancu Hall, the address Jamin had given him the other day. He got on the bus, sat by the window, and adjusted his scarf to cover his frozen pinkish ears. A container of toast rustled quietly in his backpack, which he placed on his lap.
The bus was only half full - a few scowling high school students sat in the corners and one couple in love, staring out the window. Exhaling, Jensen flipped through the news feed and scratched his nose.
"Cutting down trees in the square is an act that violates all environmental laws! Why is the government silent?"
"This morning there was an attack on a man returning home. The perpetrator hit him on the head and..."
"Three purebred dogs are missing from the XXX dog shelter..."
The phone screen went out. Jensen stared dejectedly at the frosted window, through which he could see the outlines of the dark streets of Pusan, illuminated by dim lanterns.
Such a gloomy atmosphere was distinctly appropriate for the noir films they used to play in the cinema. Jensen smirked slightly as a spontaneous childish thought occurred to him:
"I wish I could be the hero of some blockbuster movie..."
When the bus pulled up to the correct stop, he quickly paid and pulled his fur-trimmed hood over the back of his head and climbed out of the transport. His face was immediately scorched by the evening winter chill.
He glanced at the navigator and went forward on the snowy road. Snowdrifts crunched loudly beneath his feet. Dense twilight, like a silk canvas, covered the area. On the opposite side of the street a noisy group of young men walked by.
The glasses of their glasses were covered with a light film of ice.
A bright neon Gancu sign glittered overhead. Pulling the strap of his backpack higher, Jensen knocked twice.
"I hope I'm on time."
A few minutes later, footsteps were heard. The door opened, and Jamin's concentrated face came into view. His bangs, tucked up with three thin invisibles, were slightly damp from the sweat running down his forehead. His chest, tightened by an elastic black top, was heaving rapidly. Jensen raised an eyebrow.
"You've been working out?"
"Yeah. Come on in."
Jamin opened the door invitingly and stepped aside, allowing Jensen to squeeze inside the studio. The door slammed shut. Chom Jamin shuddered as the chill the senior brought with him enveloped him from head to toe.
"You can hang your clothes here," he pointed to the closet and, after rummaging a little in the nightstand, pulled out soft white slippers from there. "Put them on and come in."
Jensen was alone. The light in the narrow hallway was a little dim, so it was only on the third attempt that he was able to hang his jacket on the hook. Barely able to pull on his tight slippers, he slung his backpack off his shoulder and headed toward the room from which the dim light emanated. In the center of the training room stood Jamin. Nice rhythmic music played in the background. The room was small-about twenty meters long. Hundreds of purple LED lights burned under the ceiling, faintly reflecting on the smooth floor.
Jamin placed a chair near the horizontal gymnasium support and pointed to it.
"Will you sit here? I'll get the camera now."
Jensen, surprised by his impatience, obediently dropped into the stiff chair and dropped his heavy backpack beside him. The textbooks inside it slammed loudly against each other. Relaxing the buttons at his throat, he rolled down slightly, inhaling the luscious scent floating around the room.
Some kind of sweet perfume?
Jamin went back and handed him a video camera that looked brand new. Jensen twisted it in his hands doubtfully and looked at the boy with a chuckle:
"I hope you didn't buy it yesterday?"
Jamin, frozen, averted his eyes.
"Oh dear. So we'll treat it like a rarity," Jensen exhaled. He lifted his eyes and stared intently at the young man looming over him. "How long have you been here?"
Chom Jamin straightened and arched an eyebrow.
"I skip class on Fridays and come here to practice."
He picked up the phone lying on the windowsill and turned up the volume. The music speaker on the floor rumbled.
"Since this morning?" asked Jensen with surprise, raising his elbows and turning on the camera.
Jamin looked at him vaguely and, loosening the light, froze in his pose. His lips parted softly, uttering a faintly audible "yes".
"And you're a hell of a hard worker," Jensen whispered, and his voice was drowned out by the music.
The smooth movements, like a glacier melting under the hot sun, made Jensen tear his eyes away from the camera and take a live look.
A black shadow moved through the hall in an almost weightless dance, leaving a fluttering silk in the air behind it.
A bird flapping its wings was not as elegant and light as Jamin gliding across the hall. The tension in the air grew with each movement. Jensen felt the heat scorch his face as Jamin dashed very close, as if trying to touch his face.
"Is this a training session? More like a live performance..." - the guy thought, feeling the drops of sweat begin to protrude under his shirt.
The room heated up in an instant.
Jamin bent down in time with the music, tracing the skin of his legs with his long fingers and collecting moisture from it. When he threw his head up, strands of bangs were strewn across his face. The camera couldn't capture the palette of emotion on Jamin's face, but it picked up his every move, following his heels like a predator targeting its prey.
It took her breath away.
Suddenly the light in the room turned dark purple, and only the blinding LED lights allowed Jensen to see the outline of a moving figure.
About fifteen more minutes passed at this pace. Barely taking his eyes off Jamin, Jensen felt a cramping pain in his forearm muscles. The camera, which he had held throughout, shook slightly.
Jamin's hoarse sighs could be heard through the energetic music.
It was as if he was panting, but he kept dancing.
More. More. More.
It seemed a little abnormal. It was as if he was immersed in the dance and not aware of it, just moving and moving and moving.
It was both mesmerizing and frightening at the same time.
Looking up again at the incessantly dancing young man, Jensen kneaded his vocal cords and gave a low squeeze:
"Stop."
Without hearing his voice, Jamin continued.
He was like a violent mad hurricane, sweeping away everything in its path.
Turning off the camera, Jensen struggled to rise from his chair, feeling tremendous pressure to land back up, and said in a humming, demanding tone:
"Stop."
The music, shrilling like a violin string, broke off abruptly. Jamin, breathing feverishly, bent down with his hands on his knees and stared at the floor with wide-open eyes.
There was an oppressive silence.
Jensen picked up his backpack from the floor and shook it in the air. When Jamin unfolded with an unreadable expression on his face, Jensen's lips parted, and he dropped it indulgently:
"You need to rest. Let's get something to eat."
Chom Jamin was stunned when he heard these words. His frantically heaving chest was moving as fast as if his heart was desperately trying to leap out of his chest.
EL approached the boy and pulled him insistently to the floor.
"When did you eat today?"
Jamin, landing gently with his buttocks on the warm floor, shook his head stunned. The eyes that dug into Jensen, taking a container of toast and a bottle of water out of his backpack, were like hard teeth biting fiercely into his skin.
Jamin never answered his question, so Jensen silently shoved juicy toast into his hand and took a bite of his own, closing his eyelids with pleasure. His stomach immediately grumbled happily.
He turned his head and looked questioningly at the still immovable schoolboy, whose mouth was frozen with the creamy cheese oozing toast.
A slight chuckle escaped the boy.
"Eat it already. I made them myself. They taste good till they're blue in the face."
"I..." came a husky, thin voice into the silence of the hall. "I have to practice..."
Jensen shook his head negatively.
"You don't have to."
Jamin shuddered as if a golden bell had fallen on the back of his head.
Don't...have to...?
"What are you...?" his fingers clenched the toast harder. The mouthwatering smell permeated his nose, sending uncontrollable shivers through his body.
Jensen put the container of food between them and moved a bottle of fresh water to him.
His voice sounded quiet and unusually intimate.
"You don't need to wear yourself out like that."
"What?"
After chewing the crisp bread, Jensen nonchalantly reached for another toast, crossing his legs at the same time. The light from the lamps fell on the left side of his face, highlighting his black eyelashes and a tiny mole. Jamin couldn't take his eyes off him.
"You can tell by every movement that you put your soul into it. You're a beautiful dancer. But is that worth sacrificing your fortune for?" taking a big bite of toast, Jensen felt the bitterness of kimchi burning his tongue. He licked the sauce from the corner of his mouth and smiled slightly, out of the corner of his eye noticing Jamin's interest in what he was saying. He still continued to sit in a stupor, holding the toast to his lips without even trying to taste it. Tearing the cap off the bottle, Jensen took a few large sips and continued. "Hard work is bound to pay off, but you don't have to score on yourself. You can always go back to dancing, but you can't get your health back. It's better to take care of yourself. Get some rest."
Tired of staring at the wretched sandwich, he reached over and pressed his hand to Jamin's chin, pushing it to his mouth with his other hand. Chubby reddish lips circled around the piece of soaked bread, and his jaw moved slowly, starting to chew thoroughly.
Jamin's round eyes unhooked from the guy sitting at the side and ducked into the delicious toast.
The atmosphere eased.
Falling onto his back, Jensen patted Chom Jamin lightly on the thigh.
"You're just a high school kid, come on! You've never had a beer before, have you? I'll buy you a drink sometime."
He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling and then at the hunched black figure.
He pondered, and then said quietly:
"You did well."
Jamin's shoulders stiffened. Crumbs of bread crumbled to the floor as the dancer's long fingers trembled under the onslaught of someone else's words.
***
They left the studio together at a leisurely pace and headed for the bus stop. It seemed as if there were more people on the street. When they reached the bus stop in silence, they stood next to each other and waited for the bus.
It was awkward for some reason.
Jensen put his hands in his pockets and caught a glimpse of Jamin. Wrapped up to his nose in a warm prickly scarf, he looked like a pompous, ruffled sparrow. He grinned, licked his lips, and twitched. The right bus was coming to the bus stop.
"Which one do you want to go to?" he asked, walking to the still-open door of the transport.
Jamin, hesitating, rushed after him.
"I'll take this one," he said. "I'll just get off at the stop later."
They both got on the bus and moved along the seats.
"I'll sit by the window," Jensen nodded clearly, finding the right seat, and flopped down near the ice-cold murky. Jamin sat down after him. His jacket was slightly pulled up, and he was missing half his face in it, as if mired in a thick snowdrift. He pulled his scarf down and sighed in relief.
The bus took a few more passengers, closed the doors, and moved forward.
"So you've been here all day on Fridays?" inquired Jensen and, putting his palms to the window, blew hot breath on them, warming them. The icy crust was parting, revealing a view of the dark streets of Pusan.
Jamin, after sending a few messages, put his phone away and nodded.
"Yes. Practice usually starts at ten o'clock."
"From ten in the morning?! You're some kind of cyborg. Does your teacher make you do that or...?"
"No," the guy cut off indifferently. "I'll do it myself."
Jensen arched an eyebrow.
"You're going to get yourself killed that way."
Jamin, hearing this, immediately bristled.
"I have to dance..."
"Until you pass out? Or what?" interrupted El. He patted the young man on the shoulder and continued. "Or do you have an engine built into your ass? You're wasting your youth in the gym. And I'm sure coach told you the same thing. Let's make a deal: if you don't have anything to do in the morning, come out for a run with me. Walking never hurt anybody. We'll run in the park, get something to eat. My brother told me a great place that makes juicy meat! And, since you're not going to class on Friday, that means you have the whole day free?"
Jamin nodded, unable to resist the boy's unflappable voice.
"Wonderful. You can come over and visit us, I don't think Du San would mind. Then you can walk me to school and go to your training sessions. I'll pop up there in the evening."
He continued to say something else, and leaned back on the back of the seat and closed his eyes. The backpack on his lap bounced sharply at every bump.
"And then..."
Jamin sat for a few more seconds, waiting for the phrase to continue, but it never came. Leaning over slightly, he glanced at the asleep Jensen. His expression softened, and the dimples on his cheeks disappeared.
"How could you be more tired than I am?" smiling slightly, Chom Jamin asked.
As the bus turned the corner, Jensen's heavy body tilted and his head was about to fall forward, colliding with the seat next to it, but Jamin immediately caught it and, coyly, rested his chin on his shoulder.
Jensen frowned in his sleep and exhaled hotly into his neck.
Clenching his fists tightly, Jamin turned away. The tips of his ears, reddened by the cold, suddenly turned even redder.
Ten minutes later, Jensen suddenly woke up, opened his eyes, peeled away from Jamin's shoulder, and looked out the window.
"Oh, I'm going out soon," he muttered, pulling the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. "Hey. How much longer do you have to go?"
The older boy looked at him sideways and shook his head.
"I got two more stops."
"Okay. Let me get out."
Jamin stood up from his chair and let Jensen pass him, but immediately got up and started rummaging through his bag. Jensen moved forward, but was immediately grabbed by the sleeve. Thin, delicate fingers gripped the corner of his shirt peeking out from under his jacket and gently pulled him back.
Jensen stared at the boy with sleepy eyes.
"What is it?"
"Money."
A cocky smirk appeared on Jensen's lips. He leaned forward and, lowering his voice, breathed slowly into Jemin's pink ear:
"Especially for you, the first shoot is free."
Quickly pulling away, he winked at him and, after paying the fare, sprinted out to the bus stop, immediately hurrying home.
Jamin, in prostration, faintly heard the bus door creak shut and the tires rustle in the snow.
Greenish strained eyes watched the window in which Jensen had disappeared.
The rough handle of the bag in his palms brought him to his senses. Jamin squeezed the warm scarf and hid the velvety ruddy cheeks with it.
***
By the time Jensen got home, everyone in the apartment had long since gone to sleep. He stepped quietly into the kitchen and slightly opened the refrigerator, peering curiously inside. Then he silently opened the door of the room, put his backpack beside the bed and stopped beside Hyun, who was able to wrap himself in a cocoon in his sleep, only the ruffled dark back of his head peeking out from under the soft down blanket. With a soft chuckle, he made his way to the bathroom and quickly washed his face, trying to do everything as quietly as possible.
The brush kept slipping out of his hands. Barely finishing brushing his teeth, he returned to the bedroom and, changing into his pajamas, lay down on the bed.
It sagged, creaked miserably, and fell silent.
A hard day was pressing his head into a vise. He wanted to relax. He took out his phone and headphones and, turning his face to the wall, scrolled lazily through the gallery.
A video caught his eye, tucked away in a lonely folder titled "Home."
His finger froze over the screen, refusing to move.
Swallowing heavily, Jensen pressed it and felt his hand tremble.
A melodious voice rang out in the headphones.
A woman's voice.
Two figures appeared on the screen against a clear orange kitchen. One was a teenager of fifteen, dressed in a wide white kitchen apron and a tiny chef's hat. He was chopping vegetables with a disgruntled face, muttering something to himself, and occasionally glancing at the tall woman standing nearby who was peppering the meat.
"Mom, why are we doing this?" howled the boy grudgingly when an onion fell into his hands. He wrinkled his nose and put it aside, looking at the beautiful woman in the red apron, which featured a character from some old cartoon.
The woman smiled softly and indulgently patted her son on the head.
"Imagine we're on some kind of cooking show. Isn't this fun?"
Mom.
Jensen bent over on the bed and clenched his thumb with his teeth, biting it so hard that a red mark appeared. His eyes were fixed on the laughing woman on the screen.
"Only kids do that, well!" grumbled the teenager.
"That's all right," she patted down a piece of meat in the spices, put it away in her plate, and smiled as she looked at her son. "Let's be kids, okay?"
"So? Do I have to...well...say something?" the teenager hesitated.
The woman laughed and pulled the cap over his eyes and kissed his temple.
"Imagine we're the coolest chefs in all of Korea and there's a lot of viewers watching us. Come on, say something!"
The teenager turned to the camera and, with his lips pressed together, timidly scratched his cheek with his fingers.
"Well...hello."
"Ahhahaha!" the woman hugged him tightly and kissed him on the forehead, clasping her eyes shut. "You're my confused little sunshine..."
The teenager began to recoil as his cheeks flushed from the squeeze. With loud squeals he ran out of the kitchen, and his mother, wiping her hands with a towel, laughing, moved to follow him.
The screen went out.
Jensen's eyes went glassy. After lying in a stupor for a few minutes, he violently pulled out the headphones and, tossing them aside, put the phone under his pillow.
He left a bright red salivating tooth mark on his finger.
Every word I heard from the video rattled in my head.
A sunny smile flashed before my eyes, facing the teenager.
Burying his face in the pillow, he pulled the blanket sharply over his head. The heat burned his skin.
Blinking, he slammed his eyes shut tightly. The corners turned red and his upper lashes got wet.
Outside the window a winter gusty wind picked up.