OMLM | Chapter 23

Kang Yebon clearly knew it was his fault for attending the wedding despite saying he wouldn’t. He understood why Lee Seunggu was upset about it.

However, he found it hard to grasp why the conversation had suddenly taken this turn.

“I don’t get why this is leading to all this. I’m really sorry I went to the wedding after saying I wouldn’t. It wasn’t on purpose, honestly.”

Lee Seunggu, as if holding back something, finally burst out.

“Kang Yebon, it’s not just about you not telling me and going—it’s not why I’m feeling this way.”

“Then what is the issue? Is it because I didn’t tell you the reason I had to go?”

Silence often conveys more than words, and this time, Lee Seunggu’s silence was an affirmation to Yebon’s guess.

Yebon wanted to speak but found himself hesitating. For some, revealing their own reasons requires much more courage than others. For Yebon, it was particularly challenging.

The reactions he could expect from sharing his personal reasons were of two kinds: understanding and sympathy, or misunderstanding and rejection.

Typically, the former applies to situations universally deemed unfortunate.

Yebon’s circumstances, however, were of the sort that might not be easily accepted or understood if shared.

This led Yebon to often choose silence. The many issues that accumulated deep within were intertwined, and explaining why he ended up going to the wedding after saying he wouldn’t required unraveling long and outdated stories.

Even if he were to share his long, gloomy story, the likelihood of being understood was slim, and Yebon was too afraid to take that risk.

So once again, he chose silence.

“People have their reasons for not sharing everything, and I don’t have to tell you everything, nor do you need to know everything about me. So why should we have uncomfortable conversations?”

It seemed Yebon had unconsciously believed Lee Seunggu understood the reasons behind his silence.

This made him feel sorry and a bit resentful at the same time.

“Right, I don’t need to know everything about you, and you don’t have to tell me. That’s true, but it’s like you can never share anything. I thought we were close enough to share more than this.”

Silence fell again.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’ll go. See you tomorrow.”

Lee Seunggu walked away without looking back.

Yebon stood there, watching him disappear, his eyes shaky.

The urge to run after Lee Seunggu clashed with the unsettling realization that he was better off standing still.

Alone, Yebon wandered around, lost, until he sat down at the bus stop. The digital display read that the next bus would arrive in 10 minutes.

Despite the noise of the chattering people nearby, Yebon only stared down at the pavement.

“Right, I don’t need to know everything about you, and you don’t have to tell me. That’s true, but it’s like you can never share anything. I thought we were close enough to share more than this.”

Lee Seunggu had been in the same class during their first year of high school, and they had drifted apart when they chose different academic tracks in their second year.

They weren’t particularly close even during the first year, but when Yebon transferred to the humanities in his third year, they ended up in the same class again, and it was Lee Seunggu who warmly reached out, leading them to attend the same university.

Though not as long-standing as his friendship with Jung Woochan, Lee Seunggu was a good and reliable guy.

Yebon had depended on him to some extent and thought there were no issues in their relationship.

They had maintained a comfortable distance within the boundaries they had set.

While Lee Seunggu seemed occasionally upset when Yebon didn’t share much, Yebon had no idea it was a continuous concern.

Was sharing personal stories the only way to foster intimacy? But sharing burdensome stories just for the sake of it seemed unnecessary.

Yebon closed his eyes and imagined telling Lee Seunggu everything he hadn’t said.

His confusing identity issues during his youth, what Jung Woochan had meant to him, why he had been so angry at him, how he had gotten entangled with Cha Hyuk, and why he had gone to the wedding.

Even in his imagination, the conversation never ended.

Even there, Yebon couldn’t look Lee Seunggu in the eyes; he spoke with his eyes closed.

The words, without proper beginnings, barely strung together until finally, they came to an end, and Yebon opened his eyes.

From his crown to his neck, he felt a sudden chill—the imagined face of Lee Seunggu was painted completely black.

Yebon snapped open his eyes in reality too, his face pale as if he had touched ice, yet his heart pounded fiercely.

“A man lies with a male as with a woman; both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.”

– Leviticus 20:13 (The Death Penalty for Certain Sins)

The verse surfaced in his memory as Yebon pressed his hand against his chest, looking into the void. Suddenly, a flyer was thrust before his eyes.

Startled, Yebon jerked his body as he looked up to see an elderly lady with wrinkled lips tightly sealed, shaking the flyer once.

Dazed, Yebon took the flyer, and the lady quickly moved on to someone else. Yebon looked down at the paper in his hand—it was a flyer for a newly opened church nearby.

He stared at the flyer for a long while, then, with trembling under his chin, crumpled it and shoved it into his pocket.

Feeling suffocated, Yebon rubbed his neck and turned his gaze to the bus display.

The bus was now 15 minutes away. The previous bus had already left.

“Ah…”

As Yebon sighed deeply, he noticed the noisy crowd had disappeared.

The sky was turning darker.

He pulled out his phone and tapped on the contact labeled ‘Cha Hyuk hyung’.

Their last conversation—his thanks for Saturday night and Cha Hyuk’s response to sleep well—was their last and first interaction.

Hesitating over the keypad, Yebon finally pressed the screen.

“Have you eaten?”

He rapidly hit backspace. His fingers hovered over the keyboard before he managed to type a brief message.

“Are you busy?”

The message was sent, and Yebon watched the screen, used to receiving immediate responses in the past.

However, as time passed with no reply, and when Yebon checked the bus display again, it read ‘Approaching.’

Peering ahead, he saw his bus approaching quickly.

Yebon’s shoulders slumped as he turned off his phone and pocketed it. The bus stopped right in front of the station.

Yebon slowly approached the bus, standing a bit behind the crowd rushing to get on.

Just as he was about to board, his pocket vibrated.

Yebon stopped and hurriedly pulled out his phone. Cha Hyuk hyung’s name was illuminated on the screen.

“Aren’t you getting on?”

The bus driver called out irritably, and Yebon nodded hastily in response.

The bus left without him.

Regretting not boarding immediately, Yebon knew it was too late. Thinking he’d have to walk to the next station, he answered the call.

“Hello.”
• I saw your message late, got tied up. What’s up?

Hearing the kindness in the voice across the phone seemed to ease the tightness gripping Yebon.

Suddenly, he realized just how much he was relying on Cha Hyuk, and heat rushed to his eyes.

“Nothing much, just…”

Yebon trailed off, then spoke in a playful tone.

“Called because I was bored. You said I could call anytime I wanted.”

A soft laugh came through the phone, and Yebon smiled faintly in response.

-Outside?

“Yes, heading to the bus stop to go home. What about you, hyung?”

-Just heading home too. Have you eaten?

“Going to eat at home, and you, hyung?”

-Ate earlier. Near school? I’m close by, want a ride home?

It was a tempting offer, but Yebon hesitated. He wanted to see Cha Hyuk, but felt he might just complain given his current mood.

“No, you must be tired, and I’m almost at the bus stop. It’s okay.”

-I’d like to give you a ride though.

Yebon stopped in his tracks. Just a moment ago, it felt like he could breathe again, but now he felt breathless once more.

However, this was distinctly different from the earlier suffocation. His breathing quickened.

Why was this person so kind to him, making him feel like he was someone special?

“Why?”

-Hm?

“Why do you want to give me a ride?”

Silence lingered, and Yebon felt his pulse pounding in his throat. He was the first to break the silence.

“Ahjusshi.”

-…Yes?

“I like a guy. You know that, right?”

-…Yeah, I do.

Cha Hyuk’s voice revealed an uncharacteristic hint of panic.

Yebon’s heart raced faster, suggesting he should stop talking, but once he started, he couldn’t stop.

It was strange. In front of Cha Hyuk, Yebon found he couldn’t keep silent.

Because it seemed like Cha Hyuk would accept anything, and everything he did and said always managed to relax Yebon’s usually tense nature.

“Hyung might just be a nice person, but I need to know.”

Yebon finally voiced the suspicion that had been haunting him.

His palm felt sweaty as he gripped the phone tighter.

“I feel like you like me… Am I mistaken?”

It could have been a misunderstanding, but could someone really do so much just out of general affection?

Yebon saw those dark eyes looking at him as proof, and the gentleness in Cha Hyuk’s voice whenever he spoke to him confirmed his feelings.

It might really be a misunderstanding, or maybe he was reading too much into it, but…

The silence stretched, drying Yebon’s mouth. He wasn’t clueless, and Cha Hyuk’s actions didn’t seem to stem just from familiarity.

The silence lengthened. Just as Yebon was about to check if the call had dropped, a response came.

No, it was more of a question that embarrassed Yebon.

-…Have I really done that much to make you think so?

Something burst inside him.

Yebon felt a heat rise not just below his throat but all the way to his scalp.

The voice was just full of embarrassment. The meaning of that sentence was clear.

It’s a misunderstanding, that’s it. An unspoken word seemed to echo in Yebon’s ears.