OMLM | Chapter 30

When Cha Hyuk looked at him with startled eyes, Kang Yebon’s already tear-stained red face turned an even brighter shade of red.

Covering his face with his free hand, Yebon shouted, “I want to go to the bathroom!”

“Why are you crying?”

Despite Yebon’s desperate desire to escape, Cha Hyuk didn’t let him go. Instead, he pulled Yebon back down to his seat.

Sniffling through his stuffed-up nose, Yebon glared at Cha Hyuk. Gone was his earlier flustered expression; now, he looked like he was holding back laughter.

“Was the movie that sad?”

“Don’t make fun of me!”

Yebon snapped angrily, his voice sharp. At last, Cha Hyuk burst out laughing and pulled some tissues from the table. Gently, he began wiping Yebon’s face.

Though Yebon wanted to escape, Cha Hyuk’s hand firmly cupped his cheek, leaving him no choice but to give up. He pouted as tears continued to fall, his emotions still wrapped up in the movie. He hadn’t expected to cry this much.

Mortified as he was, Cha Hyuk seemed to find the situation endlessly amusing. Smiling, he diligently wiped Yebon’s tear-streaked cheeks, his runny nose, and even dabbed at other spots on his face.

“…That’s enough,” Yebon muttered.

It was like being coddled as a child. Sniffling, Yebon pulled away from Cha Hyuk’s hand. Fortunately, Cha Hyuk let him go, but his gaze remained fixed on Yebon.

“It must’ve been really sad for you. The ending was emotional,” Cha Hyuk said.

Yebon retorted sharply, “It wasn’t just the ending! The whole story was sad, sniff, really sad.”

He felt sympathy for Vivian, the heroine of the movie, but what really got to him was thinking about Oliver, the male lead. He wouldn’t even know that Vivian had died and would grieve, thinking she left him. The thought made Yebon’s chest ache.

“And— And! Now there’s going to be a missing person’s report for Vivian… Then the police will probably go to Oliver… And when he finds out…”

Yebon’s red, swollen eyes shimmered with renewed sorrow.

He trembled, his lips quivering as tears began to fall again. Yebon grieved as if he were Oliver himself.

Cha Hyuk silently observed him. Unlike Yebon, who was sobbing uncontrollably, Cha Hyuk hadn’t shed a single tear during the movie. He hadn’t even been particularly moved.

In his world, full of loan sharks and illegal dealings, he had encountered countless stories far more tragic than the movies. Those tales often painted the world as a living hell. Sympathy was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Showing it would only lead to entanglement and danger.

Yet, watching Yebon’s tears flow over something purely fictional stirred something unfamiliar in him.

Curious, Cha Hyuk wiped the corner of Yebon’s eye with his thumb. His fingertip grew damp.

Through tear-filled, glimmering eyes, Yebon asked, “Hyung, aren’t you sad? Am I the only one like this?”

For a moment, Cha Hyuk was at a loss for words.

It felt as though something was lodged in the back of his throat, rendering him unable to answer.

The sincerity in Yebon’s question made it impossible to simply say “no.” Even while they were physically close, Cha Hyuk felt miles apart from Yebon in that moment.

Yet, at the same time, Yebon’s tear-streaked cheeks and trembling voice filled him with an unbearable rush of emotion.

After a brief silence, Cha Hyuk pulled Yebon into his arms, wrapping him tightly in an embrace. He couldn’t let Yebon see his face right now.

Leaning back, Cha Hyuk lay down on the sofa, and naturally, Yebon ended up lying on top of him.

Startled by the unexpected physical contact, Yebon squirmed. His soft hair brushed against Cha Hyuk’s chest, tickling him slightly.

“Hyung’s super sad too. I was holding back my tears the whole time,” Cha Hyuk said with a playful tone.

Yebon tried to lift his head, but Cha Hyuk’s hand on the back of his head kept him in place, so all he managed was a slight wiggle.

“People cry when they watch movies sometimes, you know,” Cha Hyuk teased.

Frustrated, Yebon buried his face in Cha Hyuk’s chest and protested, but his muffled words were incomprehensible.

Cha Hyuk laughed lightly, and Yebon huffed in annoyance before turning his face to the side.

Perhaps it was the sudden release of tension, or maybe the warmth of Cha Hyuk’s arms, but Yebon’s body relaxed. The steady beat of Cha Hyuk’s heart under his palm felt oddly comforting.

As he blinked slowly, Yebon realized he might be a little sleepy from all the crying.

The TV screen now displayed an external input message with “USB:D” in the corner. Cha Hyuk must have been setting up the USB earlier.

Just as Yebon had that idle thought, the reality of their position struck him.

His previously relaxed body stiffened in an instant. Yebon stared at the TV with wide, trembling eyes.

The embrace that had felt so comfortable now made him unbearably self-conscious. Every point of contact between them felt like it was burning.

Yebon could hear his pulse racing in his ears, and to his surprise, he felt Cha Hyuk’s heartbeat quicken under his palm as well.

The hand cradling his back grew tense, and the atmosphere, once cozy and soft, became precarious.

Swallowing hard, Yebon slowly lifted his face. This time, Cha Hyuk’s hand fell away easily.

As Yebon nervously looked up at Cha Hyuk, their eyes met. Neither could look away.

The heartbeat under Yebon’s hand pounded rapidly, and he unconsciously pressed down on Cha Hyuk’s chest.

Just as Yebon opened his mouth to speak, Cha Hyuk beat him to it.

“Hyung is leaving for Hong Kong next year.”

Yebon blinked, his lips still parted. Cha Hyuk sat up and gently pushed Yebon off him.

Sitting upright now, Yebon mumbled, “Ah… Hong Kong. You’re leaving for Hong Kong…”

He froze, his eyes widening as the words sunk in.

“What did you just say?” Yebon asked in disbelief.

Cha Hyuk clicked his tongue softly, running a hand through his hair. Yebon could tell he was hesitant, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“It’s been planned for a while. I’ll finish the first semester next year, and then I’ll leave. If everything goes quickly, I might leave in May. If not, by October at the latest.”

“You’ll come back… right?” Yebon asked cautiously.

Cha Hyuk didn’t answer immediately. His silence was enough to make Yebon feel anxious.

Grabbing the edge of Cha Hyuk’s sleeve, Yebon asked again, his voice trembling, “You’re not coming back, are you?”

Finally, Cha Hyuk replied, “That’s not it. I’ll come back, but…”

Trailing off, Cha Hyuk hesitated before continuing, “Even if I do, it’ll be at least five years later.”

Yebon said nothing. No, he couldn’t say anything.

The sudden shock of the news left him reeling, unsure how to process it.

Yebon had never imagined a future where Cha Hyuk wasn’t in Korea.

He hadn’t expected their connection to last forever, but he also hadn’t thought it would be cut off so abruptly.

Then he remembered something Cha Hyuk had said before:

“Don’t get mad, but just hang out with hyung until the end of this year. After that, even if you hold on, I’ll be gone.”

So it really had been planned all along. Their relationship had always been destined to end.

Yebon couldn’t describe how he felt.

The only thing he was sure of was that it was overwhelmingly negative.

Cha Hyuk, still watching Yebon closely, asked carefully, “Are you upset?”

Yebon glanced at him briefly, then shook his head.

“No… Why would I be upset…”

They weren’t particularly close, nor had they known each other for a long time. They were just spending a short time together, as agreed…

Yebon swallowed his words. Saying them out loud would only make him feel worse.