Namgun pulled the white cat's leash and tried to guide it toward the house, but it stubbornly refused, its nose sniffing the yellowish snow where the dogs had obviously peed.
Rolling his eyes, the schoolboy cringed at the cold wind that licked his neck.
It was late evening, around six o'clock. Pusan's sleeping streets had long since fallen into silence.
He didn't really want to go home himself. There was a clingy little sister who, as soon as he appeared on the doorstep, would hang on him and talk so much that his ears would hurt. In the kitchen, his mother was shaking again, who would once again yell at him for any little thing. Thankfully, at least his father, who was away on a business trip, wasn't there.
And despite the fact that the viscous wind was extremely cold, it was any better than the environment that awaited him at home.
Several cars passed by quietly, their headlights flashing.
"Rio, let's go," he groaned, feeling his toes freezing from the moisture in his shoes.
The cat continued to wander carelessly through the snow, as if not listening to him.
He could have picked her up, but that risked a couple more rather painful scratches.
Lifting her head, the boy covered his eyes, feeling the flakes of snow melting against his skin. His dark, short hair fell over his face, blocking him from the dim, faded light of the lantern.
Snow crunched from the side.
"Oh," someone else's surprised voice was heard.
Soon Namgun remembered that voice. Turning his head sharply, he saw the tall figure of a high school student in the shadows.
Jensen. Yes, he recognized his name.
The boy lowered his eyes and, seeing the animal, somehow immediately brightened.
"You're walking the cat. Can I pet it?"
Numgun nodded languidly.
Jensen leaned over and gave Rio a sniff with his finger, scratching behind her ear. The cat glared at him for a few moments and then obediently rubbed herself against the palm of his hand.
"I'm not much of a cat person, more of a parrot person. But yours is cute."
Rio, as if realizing it was about her, pressed herself against the boy's leg and meowed longingly.
Namgun cautiously circled the senior's face with his eyes and shuddered at what he saw. Blood dried on his chin, a deep, inflamed scratch on his cheekbone, and several small bruises.
"Sunbae, what happened to you?" He asked in a quiet voice.
Jensen raised his eyebrows and grinned, pointing a finger at his face.
"Not good?"
"You look like you were run over by a dump truck."
"That...doesn't sound like a compliment," El joked back with a tired smirk.
"It's not a compliment either," Namgun thought to himself, but remained silent.
Swallowing, he glimpsed the tall guy again.
"Do you live here?" Jensen made casual conversation as he continued to pet the cat in his arms.
"Yes, not far from here," Namgun answered after a moment's hesitation. He scratched his earlobe, glanced at the boy and asked. "And you?"
"I'm going to the bus stop. I've got a couple more houses to go."
"I see."
Namgun sensed the awkward silence that bound the atmosphere between them, and kicked a piece of dirty ice with the toe of his boot.
"You...got into bad company?"
"Ah ha ha ha ha," Jensen laughed hoarsely. "Rather, they're the ones who ran into the wrong person."
"Sounds arrogant."
"But honest."
Namgun thought this was the very moment he could thank this man, so he started, looking away embarrassed:
"The wounds look painful. If left untreated, they can leave a scar. And since I live nearby, well... We can come over to my place and I'll give you some ointment."
Jensen lifted his chin and rested it on the soft belly of the cat, who was happily stretched out in his arms. With a thoughtful pucker of his lips, he nodded lazily:
"Don't scars adorn a man?"
The Namgun immediately frowned:
"No," he retorted.
Jensen, watching his graying face, smiled again, and then took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the schoolboy.
"Here, take a picture of me with her."
Pointing at the cat, the guy lifted it up and gently pressed it against his cheek with a joyful expression. Soon Namgun fell into a stupor.
"What?"
"Take a picture. Come on."
After taking a couple pictures, Namgun slowly handed the cold phone back.
"What do you need this for?"
Jensen scanned the photo and hummed contentedly.
"I'll put it on my phone's screensaver."
Namgun still didn't understand the flighty man's actions and thoughts. He was doing what he wanted to do, acting loose and frivolous.
Such people were to be feared because they were unpredictable, but there was no instinct for self-preservation around him.
Jensen-sunbae was strange. Calm?
"What about the wounds?"
"I'll go to some nearby drugstore and buy a band-aid. Don't worry about it. I'll just tell my family that I fell on the ice. I went ice-skating this morning. That's the perfect reason!"
Jensen grinned broadly, wincing slightly at the stabbing pain that shot through his face, and snuggled back into Rio's fur. The cat looked back at him with large blue eyes and affectionately rubbed her muzzle against the stranger's chin.
Namgun didn't know what to do. Standing as a statue in the middle of the road, he exhaled a cloud of warm vapor and silently turned his eyes to the highway. The leash in his hands staggered weakly. Hearing the ragged breathing of the older man on his left, he bit his lip and swallowed hard again.
A faint, pale blush spread across his cheeks.
"Okay," Jensen said, and handed the cat to Namgun and stepped back, scratching his red nose. "I've got to go now. And don't stay too long. It's not morning."
Soon noticed the small shiver that encompassed the other man's long fingers and wanted to insist on going to his house, but Jensen had already managed to turn around and move leisurely toward the bus stop.
Namgun stayed to stare after him while Rio, after giving the man a glance, jumped out of his master's arms and darted back into the snowdrifts. With a groan, the schoolboy picked her up in his arms and carried her home, ignoring her angry hissing.
***
The bright shine of the footlights illuminated the theater stage. Smooth movements to match the music, the rhythmic clacking of heels against the stage, and the quiet chirping of ballerinas against the wall.
Jamin, clearly and sharply raising his arms to perform one of the most difficult parts of the dance, exhaled heavily as his chest squeezed from lack of oxygen. His face turned even paler and, unable to recover his breath, he made a mistake.
"Okay, everyone!" came sharp clapping from the direction of the auditorium.
A young teacher, a man of medium height with a smoothly shaved head jumped up from his seat and exclaimed:
"Jamin, is something wrong with you? Why is there no way we can all fulfill this part?"
Other people's gazes, like sharp teeth, sank into the guy from all sides. Raising his eyes, he came across another dancer, who was looking at him with slight disdain with a slightly arrogant eyebrow raised. Jamin gloomed and turned to the temporary teacher.
"It's alright, let's try again," he said in a grayed voice.
A chill seemed to sweep over his skin.
"I'll try harder," thought Jamin, getting into the required pose.
But after smoothly executing half of the dance, he suddenly bumped shoulders with another dancer, the one who was burning through him with his eyes, and made the mistake again.
The teacher, standing up, shook his head.
"Let's call it a day. You should clean yourself up, Jamin. The stage doesn't tolerate slip-ups."
The ballerinas surrounding him immediately dispersed throughout the hall, barely hearing about the rest. Jamin stared straight ahead of him and, startled by the women's ringing voices, turned to go to the dressing room.
His hands trembled with anger. Gritting his teeth, he moved forward and rolled his eyes when a man blocked his path.
Xi Wei, a dancer who had come from China, loved to annoy him. Everything about him was so annoying that sometimes Jamin was willing to open his arms and punch him in the face just to get him to shut up and stop clinging.
"If you can't handle it, maybe you should give your part to someone else."
Jamin hummed.
"How about you keep an eye on your seat? There's a lot of applicants for it, I see. Make sure you don't get taken away."
Xi Wei clenched his teeth and pulled a smile and continued more assertively:
"Just look at you, Jamin. Your technique is frankly lame. What are you going to do when you get on stage? Are you going to say it's just like this?" folding his arms across his chest, Xi Wei turned his head towards the crowd of ballerinas leaving for the dressing rooms and said. "I just don't want to screw up a performance you obviously won't pull out."
Placing a hand on Jamin's shoulder, Xi Wei sighed tiredly with a hint of indulgence:
"Don't jump above your own head, Jamin."
Ah. That's how.
Clenching his fists, the guy threw his opponent's hand off his shoulder and squeezed out:
"Fuck it."
The stage was filled with silence. The ballerinas turned their ears up as they heard their altercation.
Xi Wei's face immediately changed.
"I just wanted to poke you..."
"Poke me in what? Shit? Well, you did a good job with that. И? Give you a pat on the back?"
Jamin exploded. Although he usually remained indifferent, this time he was unable to ignore this ball of shit.
The teacher, still in the auditorium, pulled away from the phone and looked over to where Jamin's loud voice was coming from.
Xi Wei, noticing the tension and interest of the people around him, immediately deflated.
"Hey hey, keep it down..."
"I've kept quiet every fucking prank you've pulled, but if you keep ruining MY performance, you won't get off with a warning," Chom Jamin's tone was hard and cold. His dead green eyes, which were like the murky swamp in the depths of the forest, reeked of danger. Jamin approached Xi Wei, who slightly frightenedly tried to pull away, and roughly hissed. "I'll make it so that you can't go on stage anymore, do you understand me? Don't get sticky."
"Chom Jamin!" shouted the teacher. "What's going on in there?"
The expression on the dancer's face immediately changed. He brightened up and, placing a soft calm smile on his face, he replied.
"It's alright, Master. Just a small dispute, but it's already settled."
Xi Wei's lips trembled.
"You're too pushy, Jamin."
"Really?" the dark-haired man raised an eyebrow. "And I was under the impression that you were the instigator of the conflict here. Or was I wrong? Anyway, I have to go, but you can still wiggle your ass in front of our temporary teacher. What if he takes pity and lends you the role of...um...tree after all?"
The boy nudged him with his shoulder and headed leisurely toward the dressing rooms.
"I think you were born for it," Jamin tossed one last time, disappearing behind the tall silk drapes.
Xi Wei froze, trembling with his whole body. Clenching his lower lip tightly, he placed his palm on his chin and tried to regain his breath.
"Rot," he barely audibly spat out.
The dressing room was empty and quiet. Jamin pulled off his black ballet shoes and tossed them aside. Picking up a bottle of water from the table, he took a few refreshing sips and sank tiredly into a chair near the large mirror, lit by the intense lights.
His tired white face showed in the reflection.
Licking his dry lips, Jamin reached into his hair and pulled a few bobby pins with difficulty, tossing them carelessly into a jewelry box. Swallowing, he leaned back in the padded chair and froze, listening to the silence.
From a neighboring dressing room came the muffled voices of ballerinas discussing tonight's performance.
A notification came to my cell phone.
"Sorry Jamin, we couldn't make it to your practice, my dad and I went to dinner after work and didn't keep track of the time..."
The phone flew to the floor.
"Bitch, what is wrong with you," Jamin cupped his hands into his face and exhaled heavily.
Over and over again. Every time. One excuse after another.
"Huh," an ironic smirk spread across his lips. "Fuck me then."
He'd made his peace with that a long time ago.
Leaving the dressing room after half an hour, Jamin slipped out of the theater. The winter wind immediately nibbled his face. His shoes got stuck every now and then among the sticky, glistening snow.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, Chom Jamin logged into KakaoTalk and after finding the contact he wanted, he pressed his lips together, pondering.
The first person that came to mind was Jensen.
He quickly typed out a message and rewrote it a few times. His fingers trembled slightly due to the cold.
Leaving the message in his drafts, Jamin slowly wandered down the road, nervously tapping his fingernail on his phone screen.
Pulling into the crowd, Jamin ducked into an alleyway and turned his head and froze.
Across the street, on the opposite street, stood two figures. Something white and soft was moving in the hands of one tall man, meowing shrilly. Jamin squinted his eyes, discerning Jensen in that genuinely smiling man.
Across from him stood another guy, a little shorter, who was holding a leash in his hands.
They were talking softly about something, and a captivating smile appeared on Jensen's face every now and then.
Jamin flinched when El leaned forward slightly, closer than a human would lean to a stranger, and raised his eyebrows, playfully scratching the cat behind the ear.
A cool wind blew into his face.
Jamin clenched his fingers on his phone and turned away, walking briskly back to the road. Poking his eyes into the screen, he read again the message he had recently written but never sent:
"Jensen, are you free now? I'm sorry if I'm imposing, but I'd like to go for a walk and... Anyway, could we walk alone? I need you to nu..."
And started to rub it off.
His breathing hitched as Jamin accidentally stepped on the ice without looking under his feet and nearly slipped. It only made his mood worse.
Memories of Jensen's softened face flashed before his eyes, and something cutting into his heart burned his entire body from the inside out. Something unpleasant.
"Fucking day," he whispered unintelligibly.
Biting his lip, Jamin tucked his phone into his pocket and looked toward the stop, lit by streetlights. Pressing his side against it, he covered his eyes and took another deep breath.
The skin of his arms itched. His heart was pounding faster and faster, like he was about to have a seizure.
His ears popped, and he could see nothing but his own thin legs in the snow, which was as sticky and viscous as his thoughts.