PEN Vol 4 Ch. 14

Just like that, Cheon Sejoo came out of the alley, unseen by anyone, and immediately went straight to the roadside, taking out his phone. He was much later than the time agreed upon to go to the hospital, so he wondered if Sejin had tried to contact him.

Just as he held his phone in his hand, Sejin’s call came through. 

7:00 PM. 

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Checking the time, Cheon Sejoo gasped as he saw the dozens of unread messages displayed on the status bar. He immediately pressed the answer button and brought the speaker to his ear.

“Sejin.”

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-…….

There was no response. Cheon Sejoo, hearing only faint breathing sounds from the phone, pressed it close to his ear and quickened his pace. He had parked his car about a 10-minute walk away and as he walked towards it, he called Sejin’s name again.

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“Kwon Sejin.”

-Why… why didn’t you come….

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The reproach laced with sobs made his heart sink. As soon as he heard that voice, Cheon Sejoo started running without hesitation. Running towards his destination, he listened to Sejin’s voice and asked, 

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you at the hospital?”

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-…….

The cold wind brushed against his face. With his hat pulled low, Cheon Sejoo ran without stopping. 

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Sejin, Kwon Sejin, don’t cry. 

Don’t cry, just wait just a little bit. 

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I’m sorry, something came up. 

Speaking in a gentle, soothing voice, he finally reached his car and got in.

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Though his breath caught in his throat and the winter air tore at his lungs, Cheon Sejoo flung the jackknife he’d hidden in his pocket onto the passenger seat and immediately started the car. The call remained connected, but Sejin still didn’t answer. However, the intermittent, shuddering breaths told Cheon Sejoo that Sejin was crying.

The image of Sejin crying silently surfaced in his mind. He could picture him vividly, his eyes rimmed red, lips bitten tight, tears welling up in his sorrowful eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

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A sharp pain pierced his chest. His insides felt like they were burning. Something must have happened to Kim Hyunkyung. The situation he’d desperately tried to avoid had inevitably arrived. Cheon Sejoo forced a cheerful tone into his voice as he tried to soothe him.

“I’ll be there soon. I’m in the car now. Don’t cry, just wait. Okay?”

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-Mm-hmm.

“I’m going to hang up. I’ll be there really soon.”

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After hearing Sejin’s quiet affirmation, Cheon Sejoo ended the call.

Left in silence, a rage slowly began to simmer within him. He’d known all along that the survival rate for pancreatic cancer was incredibly low. But facing the reality of it, he couldn’t understand why such an innocent and kind person had to suffer. There were so many people in the world who deserved to die…

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“Why, of all people…?”

Cursing under his breath, he rested his head against the steering wheel. A wave of grief threatened to erupt inside him. Cheon Sejoo took a deep breath, barely managing to suppress his anger.

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The world was always full of things he couldn’t understand. Had there ever been any understandable hardship in his own life? He let out a resigned sigh, closing his eyes tightly before opening them again. Sejin was waiting for him. He didn’t have time for this. Cheon Sejoo pressed down on the accelerator.

* * *

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It was rush hour, but thankfully, Kang Junmyeon’s room salon wasn’t far from the hospital. He arrived at the underground parking lot in less than 30 minutes, tossed the jackknife carelessly into the glove compartment, and got out of the car. Stepping into the empty elevator, he caught sight of his reflection in the pristine doors and bit his lip.

When on a stakeout, Cheon Sejoo dressed entirely in black – hat, coat, pants, shoes. It was so that blood would be less noticeable if it splattered on him while harming someone. Normally, he wouldn’t care about his appearance, but today, the sight of himself disgusted him.

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The lifeless body and the smell of blood from the man who had died at his hands just a few days ago, flashed before his eyes. Overlapping with Sejin’s cries, his black clothing felt horrific, as if he were an omen of death.

His face contorted in sudden repulse. As soon as he reached the lobby on the first floor, which was connected to the cancer center, Cheon Sejoo took off his jacket and hat and threw them into the nearest trash can. He was left in a white short-sleeved shirt he was wearing underneath, but that was preferable to looking like he was attending a funeral. Dressed unsuitably for the situation, he headed towards the ward.

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He boarded the elevator back up to the cancer center, and when he finally reached the correct floor, he stopped dead in his tracks. The dejected figure visible just beyond the hallway leading to Kim Hyunkyung’s room made him pause.

Sejin sat slumped on a chair outside the patient room, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back hunched. His face, bowed towards the floor, was hidden by his hair, making it impossible to discern his expression. However, Cheon Sejoo could see the small puddles of tears that had dripped onto the smooth hospital floor between Sejin’s feet.

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It was Sejin, the one crying, but Cheon Sejoo’s heart felt like it was tearing apart. Swallowing down his rising emotions, he approached Sejin and called his name.

“…Kwon Sejin.”

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At the familiar voice, Sejin slowly lifted his head.

His cheeks were soaked with tears. His swollen eyelids were so red they looked as if they might bleed at the slightest touch, and bite marks were clearly visible on his lips from trying to suppress his sobs. His disheveled hair was damp with sweat. Sejin looked up at Cheon Sejoo, his face flushed with heat.

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“…….”

His lips parted slightly then trembled as if trying to speak. Then, without a word, as if understanding his grief, he met Cheon Sejoo’s warm gaze and tears streamed down his face again, tracing paths down his cheeks. A large hand reached out and gently wiped them away.

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“…It’s okay.”

The low voice echoed in the hallway. Cheon Sejoo knelt down and embraced Sejin. The younger man, whose frame had grown larger than his own at some point, collapsed into his arms without resistance. Like a child oblivious of his own size, Sejin burrowed into Cheon Sejoo’s embrace, sobbing uncontrollably.

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The elevated inflammation markers weren’t a sign of gastritis, but a precursor to metastasis.

The vascular invasion had advanced significantly, and the cancer cells had already spread throughout her body, including her liver and peritoneum. At this stage, it was clear that the metastasis had subtly begun from the time of the initial cancer diagnosis. Cancerous masses below a certain size are undetectable by any method, making this an unavoidable situation.

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Metastasis of pancreatic cancer meant stage 4, in other words, terminal. The hospital, judging further treatment to be meaningless, gave them the choice of continuing chemotherapy or transferring to hospice care. Sejin couldn’t accept this reality.

“It doesn’t make sense for this to happen in just a month…. Last month, they said the chemotherapy was working, and now they say this. It’s all lies. This can’t be happening… It doesn’t make sense…”

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Sejin mumbled in a choked voice, clinging tightly to Cheon Sejoo’s neck. The afternoon, when he’d texted about a math problem he didn’t understand, felt like a lifetime ago. Sejin was repeating the same words, like a man whose world had collapsed.

That this situation didn’t make sense, that he couldn’t believe it. 

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Cheon Sejoo felt the same. He didn’t want to deny the facts, he wanted to deny reality itself. He just wished it were all a dream.

However, the tragedy was undeniably real, and both Cheon Sejoo and Sejin had to acknowledge it through their grief. It wasn’t until two hours later that Sejin finally stopped crying. It was late enough that everyone else was asleep, and the hallway was deserted.

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Unable to bear the sight of Sejin trembling with intermittent sobs, Cheon Sejoo led him to a darkened lounge room. There, he took a carton of milk from the vending machine and placed it in Sejin’s hands.

“Drink this.”

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“…What about you?”

His voice was damp and heavy. Sejin looked up at Cheon Sejoo, his eyes still brimming with tears. The paper cup cradled in his hands seemed impossibly small. Cheon Sejoo grabbed an empty cup and doubled it up around the first one so Sejin wouldn’t burn his hands, then stroked his hair.

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“I’ll be back. I’m just going to the room for a minute.”

“Okay…”

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Leaving the lounge, he walked quietly towards Kim Hyunkyung’s room. From the hallway, he could see that the lights in the room were off. Cheon Sejoo slowly opened the door and stepped inside. The caregiver, who had been lying on the accompanying bed using her phone, looked up.

“You’re here.” 

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After a soft greeting, she gestured towards Kim Hyunkyung, who was fast asleep. 

“She fell asleep right after arguing with Sejin.”

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At her whispered words, Cheon Sejoo smiled bitterly. He knew exactly why they had fought without having to see it. Kim Hyunkyung, upon hearing that further treatment might be pointless, would have opted for hospice care immediately. Sejin would have vehemently opposed it.

However, Cheon Sejoo, somewhat familiar with the lives of terminal pancreatic cancer patients, sympathized with Kim Hyunkyung. Continuing chemotherapy wouldn’t eradicate the cancer that had already spread throughout her body. Further treatment would only slow down the spread of cancer cells in Kim Hyunkyung’s body, delaying death. From the patient’s perspective, it was no different from repeating a painful process with no real benefit.

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Death was now unavoidable. …And Sejin would eventually be left alone.

Even his thoughts about Kim Hyunkyung’s death inevitably drifted towards Sejin. Cheon Sejoo forced his turbulent thoughts aside, went to the closet, and retrieved Sejin’s coat. He said goodbye to the caregiver and left the room.

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When he returned to the lounge, Sejin was staring blankly out the window, the paper cup in his hand completely empty. Sejin’s lone figure bathed in the moonlight looked utterly lonely. Cheon Sejoo, knowing that Sejin would soon experience the same pain he had gone through, couldn’t bear to watch him any longer and approached.

“Your mom’s asleep. Let’s go home for now. I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning.”

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“…Okay.”

Sejin rose from his seat. Cheon Sejoo helped him put on his coat, guiding his arms into the thick jumper, and they left the lounge. After a brief acknowledgment to the nurses at the station, they took the elevator down.

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Cheon Sejoo’s car was in the parking lot, but his blood-stained jacket and the knife were still inside. Not wanting to put Sejin in there, Cheon Sejoo led him to the main hospital lobby and explained.

“I couldn’t bring my car because I was somewhere else. Let’s take a taxi. I’ll call one. Wait here, it’s cold outside.”

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“…….”

Saying this, Cheon Sejoo zipped Sejin’s outer coat all the way up to his neck, as if in a daze. The cold November night air was biting. He even pulled up the hood attached to the back of the coat to protect Sejin from catching a cold, and then took out his phone.

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Sejin stared blankly at Cheon Sejoo’s back as he called a taxi and walked out of the lobby. He watched the heavy glass doors swing heavily open and shut in the wind. The sudden gust of cold air that seeped through the gap momentarily brought Sejin back to his senses.

“…….”

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His tightly clenched fists ached. The paper cup that Cheon Sejoo had given him was crumpled beyond recognition in his hand. Realizing he’d carried the trash all the way down to the first floor, Sejin looked around. He soon spotted a large trash can by the elevator and was about to throw the paper cup away when a dark coat, emitting a faint gleam from within the bin, caught his eye.

He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps, even amidst his chaotic state of mind, he had subconsciously registered that Cheon Sejoo wasn’t wearing a coat. Forgetting that the coat was even in the trash, Sejin reached in.

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The matte fabric wrapped around his palm. The clean lines of the sleeve felt familiar. He picked it up and, as if entranced, brought the all-black coat to his nose. The bittersweet scent, mingled with a hint of cigarette smoke, captivated him. It was Cheon Sejoo’s scent. He stood there, frozen, and turned his head toward the outside.

In the late night, under the streetlights in front of the hospital lobby, Cheon Sejoo stood smoking. Against the backdrop of the glowing red embers and the white smoke escaping between the cigarette and his lips, he was dressed in short sleeves, unsuited for the season. Sejin looked back and forth between Cheon Sejoo’s lonely figure and the winter coat in his hands.

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His chest, which had felt hollowed out after hearing the death sentence that was his mother’s diagnosis, now felt filled by Cheon Sejoo. Burying his nose in the coat, Sejin gazed at Cheon Sejoo standing alone in the darkness.

Somehow, Sejin felt like he couldn’t imagine life without him anymore. Every time Sejin’s life seemed to hit rock bottom, Cheon Sejoo reached out to him without hesitation. Once, maybe twice, Sejin had pushed his hand away, but even so, Cheon Sejoo had reached out again in his moments of downfall.

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Now, Sejin didn’t want to let go of Cheon Sejoo’s hand that he was holding. The comforting embrace that whispered it was okay, the gentle voice that hinted all storms would eventually pass—he didn’t want to lose them. Sejin liked Cheon Sejoo.

But at the same time, he was ashamed of himself for feeling this way at this moment. His mother was dying day by day, and he felt like the most pathetic person in the world for being blinded by love and moved by Cheon Sejoo’s consideration.

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“…….”

Just then, the headlights of a car approaching the lobby pierced Sejin’s eyes. Realizing the taxi had arrived, Sejin threw the jacket back into the trash can and turned around. Cheon Sejoo, having also spotted the taxi, turned and gestured for him to come.

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As he opened the door to leave the lobby, a fierce wind scratched his body, making him shrink his shoulders. The coldness, which Cheon Sejoo must have endured for his sake, was piercingly sharp, bringing tears to his eyes.

Stopping in his tracks, Sejin unhesitatingly took off the jumper Cheon Sejoo had put on him. He then draped it over Cheon Sejoo’s shoulders as he stood holding the car door open for him. Cheon Sejoo’s furrowed brow turned towards Sejin.

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“What are you doing?”

“…I’m hot. You wear it.”

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Saying this, he got into the taxi. As he slid inside, warm air from the heater blew towards him. Cheon Sejoo sat beside him, and as the taxi started, the soft sounds of the radio and the engine hummed between them. Sejin, half-listening to the radio DJ talking about first love, reached out. He grasped Cheon Sejoo’s hand resting on the seat.

At the small contact, Cheon Sejoo’s quiet gaze fell on their clasped hands before settling on Sejin’s thin cheek. Sejin turned his gaze to meet Cheon Sejoo’s eyes.

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“…It’s okay.”

Cheon Sejoo said after a moment of silent eye contact. Sejin echoed the words in his mind. 

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It’s okay. It’s okay to be comforted by this much…. 

Not wanting to feel guilty about the emotions that had bloomed in the worst of circumstances, Sejin masked his feelings for Cheon Sejoo under the guise of comfort.

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