Rain, Love, and Song Yeon-ha
“……!”
Yeon-ha’s lips brushed against Je-yoon’s chin, and for once her face registered rare fluster. She even shoved him away with the hand that had been flailing at the empty air.
The rain poured down in sheets, soaking Je-yoon to the skin in seconds.
“Ah…… sorry.”
Startled, Yeon-ha hurriedly pulled him back in. The distance between them closed again in an instant. Je-yoon leaned his wrist to elbow against the wall, caging her in his arms.
“You’re still completely impossible to figure out.”
“…….”
Through the roar of the downpour came the voices of people searching for Yeon-ha and Je-yoon. The phone vibrating insistently in her pocket was almost certainly one of them calling.
“Rain, love, and Song Yeon-ha. Those are the three things I can’t make sense of.”
Je-yoon huffed a soft laugh and took her hand, leading her inside as if that were enough for now.
“Oh my goodness, what is this! Do the two of you still think you’re little kids?”
A booming scolding greeted them the moment they stepped through the entrance.
“Ahh, Mrs. Kim. Shh, shh! What were we supposed to do when it suddenly poured like that? At least you get to admire this expensive body of mine while you’re at it.”
Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Oh came bustling over with towels the instant they saw the two of them dripping like drowned rats. Even Je-yoon’s shameless quip couldn’t distract them from the task of drying their soaked bodies—though the nagging came free of charge.
“For heaven’s sake! Who do you think washed you and put you to bed when you were little? Looking at this body of yours, what am I supposed to do!”
Mrs. Kim smacked his back with sharp little pats and shoved him toward the bathroom.
“You wash right here! Our Yeon-ha, you come with me and use my room.”
“Aw, I want to wash in Mrs. Oh’s room too. This one’s for outsiders, isn’t it?”
Je-yoon clung to her arm and whined for no good reason. Mrs. Oh shook her head and sighed at the sight.
“You can wash in my room.”
“Huh? But Mrs. Oh hates people using her things. Mrs. Kim’s room—”
“Yeon-ha’s washing there, I said! Misook, hurry up and shove that boy in! Eun-jung will be here any minute!”
“Listen to what you’re told. What’s gotten into this child? Used to put on airs in front of Yeon-ha, and now he’s all smooth and slippery.”
Je-yoon snickered at Mrs. Oh’s words and headed for the bathroom anyway—still clinging a little more, just to tease the childless Mrs. Oh.
Yeon-ha thought the three women’s love must have had a great deal to do with how the once quiet, expressionless Je-yoon had turned into the man he was now. Following the smaller-than-she-remembered Mrs. Kim, Yeon-ha let herself sink once more into the past.
There had been a time when thinking of her father hurt so much she could barely breathe. Somewhere along the way, though, Je-yoon had come to occupy an even larger place in those memories. She no longer bothered denying it.
“Whew.”
Stepping into the bathroom attached to Mrs. Kim’s private quarters, Yeon-ha realized that while Je-yoon had been soaked through, only her right arm was even damp.
So why had she felt so hot one moment and so cold the next?
“Truly impossible weather.”
Yeon-ha muttered to herself as she undressed.
When she emerged after washing, the kitchen table was already piled high with food.
Je-yoon, dressed in casual clothes and setting out the silverware, dropped a spoon with a clatter the moment Yeon-ha walked in wearing a slightly oversized T-shirt and shorts that reached her knees.
“Th-that shirt… is mine.”
At his mumbled words, Mrs. Kim, who was setting a mountain of braised short ribs dead-center on the table, answered without a care.
“It’s not underwear—what’s the harm in sharing? Was it some special shirt?”
“It’s not that.”
Je-yoon swallowed hard.
“Listen to him gulp! Stop moving like a slug and put those down already!”
Mrs. Kim urged him on with a sharp smack to his back, but Je-yoon only gripped the spoon tighter.
“Leave it. I’ll do it. He’s a model—maybe he’s sensitive about his clothes. Je-yoon, I’ll take it home and wash it for you. That okay?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Auntie, I’ll handle this side.”
Yeon-ha smiled gently and took the silverware set from his hands. The brush of her soft fingers made him rub the back of his hand against his pants as if it had been burned.
The truth was, that black T-shirt was the one he had worn in the military. The one he had worn on the day of his discharge, in his room—while looking at her photograph and stroking himself.
He had pulled the shirt off, tossed it carelessly onto the bed, and gripped the arrogant length that stood toward the ceiling, moving his hand fast while staring at her picture. The white spurts had fallen in thick drops, dirtying the space between his thighs… and for some reason that night had left him feeling utterly wretched.
He had no idea how many more times he had done it after that. Until dawn he had mixed and matched the nineteen-year-old Song Yeon-ha in photographs with Song Yeon-ha in dresses, inventing whatever scenes he wanted while he stroked himself. Until a sticky pool of liquid had gathered on the black T-shirt spread beneath his thighs.
“…….”
Feeling heat rush downward, Je-yoon pressed his lips together and sat. He tried to hide his lower body under the table, but with Yeon-ha moving around the dining area he could not let his guard down for a second.
Even in the loose T-shirt her voluptuous figure refused to be hidden; the fabric fluttered and teased, revealing and concealing the curve of her waist and driving him quietly mad.
Je-yoon dropped his gaze and stared blankly until Yeon-ha’s smooth calves entered his vision as she came to stand beside him. Those slender white ankles that would fit easily in one hand, that would take fingerprints so readily… He drew a quiet breath.
“Je-yoon?”
“…….”
The nape of his neck, visible through his pale yellow hair, had gone red.
“Do you have a fever? Does it hurt?”
Yeon-ha reached out and stroked the back of his neck. The heat under her palm startled her; she pulled away, then pressed her hand to his cheek to check his temperature again.
“Fever?”
“Haa…”
“Oh my, you really do have a fever. Let me see.”
“…No.”
“What do you mean, no.”
Sitting down beside him, Yeon-ha cupped both his cheeks and leaned in to press her forehead to his as well. The hands that had been roaming his face and neck brushed his earlobe—
“Ah…!”
Je-yoon let out a rather loud sound. Ah, I’m going to explode. Under the table he pressed hard against the front of his pants. It felt as if her soft hands were fondling him down there instead of his face.
With all his blood rushing to one place, he tilted his head and looked at her. His fever-bright eyes met her dry ones.
“It hurts?”
“Yeah. Hurts so much I think I’ll burst.”
“Hm? Where?”
Yeon-ha’s expression was not good. Did I make him stand in the rain too long…? At her innocent murmur Je-yoon gently removed her hands.
“I’ll just go to the bathroom for a second. Splash some water on my face.”
“Huh? Okay. Cool off a bit and come back.”
“…….”
Hiding his trembling breath, Je-yoon headed for the bathroom once more.
The celebratory dinner-party was in full swing. Everyone had had a drink or two; faces were flushed and voices had grown louder.
An energized Mrs. Kim grabbed a Bluetooth microphone and launched into a trot number, her singing mixing with the laughter of the gathered crowd until the whole place grew even more raucous.
“Everyone’s having a real good time.”
After the rain cleared, Yeon-ha sat sipping beer under the clear night sky when Je-yoon plopped down beside her. At the soft pssht of a can opening she held hers out, and he clinked his against it.
“Come to think of it, we said we’d drink together last time. Guess tonight’s the night.”
After a swallow of beer she set the can on the table and drew her legs up.
“How many have you had?”
“About… five cans?”
“You’re not dizzy?”
Fiddling with her anklet, Yeon-ha turned to look at him.
“Just pleasantly buzzed? Or maybe I don’t want to get drunk because I like this atmosphere too much.”
When she smiled with her eyes curving, Je-yoon’s gaze deepened as he looked her over. His eyes traveled to the hand that had earlier checked his forehead for fever. Around the ankle that hand now rested on hung the anklet he had once fastened for her.
“You’ve never taken this off, have you?”
“Hm? No.”
“Think it would fit my wrist?”
“Want to try it on?”
Je-yoon’s eyes sparkled for a moment, but he soon shook his head in refusal. Yeon-ha, who never wore accessories outside of official occasions, had kept this one thing on her body for more than ten years without removing it. It clearly held special meaning.
“It’s precious to you.”
“It is. But there are a few things just as precious to me.”
“Is Go Je-yoon one of them?”
Yeon-ha nodded and unfastened the clasp of the anklet, setting it in her palm to toy with. The truth was, it had never really belonged to her.
“Try it on. If it looks good on you, I’ll give it to you.”
“So I can take that to mean I’m more precious than this?”
Yeon-ha nodded and placed the anklet in Je-yoon’s palm. She absently touched her now-empty ankle, then picked up her beer can and took several long swallows.
Even as a child she had hoped Je-yoon would become her model. She had wanted him to wear this first accessory she ever made, but she had never dared give it to him for fear of how it might look to others.
Those had been careful days already—her mother seemed to have guessed that her first love was Je-yoon. In the end she had never managed to give it to him and instead made the ridiculous request that he fasten it around her own ankle.
Yeon-ha’s eyes drifted slowly to Je-yoon’s wrist. The anklet rested there—no, it had originally been a bracelet, and now it circled his wrist. The size even fit well.
“It looks good. Maybe even prettier on you. Want to keep it?”
“No.”
Je-yoon toyed with the anklet a few times with his fingertips, then undid it at once. He pulled Yeon-ha’s foot up onto his thigh, slipped off the slipper that had replaced her Mary Janes, and held her calf steady.
“Does it look bad? Is that why you’re refusing?”
At her question Je-yoon’s lips curved as he fastened the bracelet around her ankle. It hung a little large, settling around her ankle bone. Her toes twitched and pinched at his thigh.
“It looks prettier when Noona wears it. I’ll just live vicariously. Wear it forever. Don’t undo what I tied.”
“It could break, you know.”
Je-yoon’s brow tilted. He gently pushed her foot away, crossed his legs, and turned his body to the other side. Sensing he was trying to hide something, Yeon-ha peered at him curiously.
Je-yoon drained not only his own beer but Yeon-ha’s as well in a single go. His full lips glistened where a little beer had spilled. He rolled his lower lip between his upper teeth and then let it spring free again.
“If it breaks?”
Yeon-ha asked once more. Half-lidded eyes fixed on her ankle, Je-yoon answered in a serious voice.
“Then I’ll just mend it.”
Even if it breaks, I have no intention of ever letting Noona go. I’ll keep us tied together somehow, stubbornly.
“So if it ever looks like it’s going to break, tell me.”
“…….”
“I’ll fix it for you.”