Come Back

As his colleague ran over to move the car with the engine still running from the driveway, the doorman quickly followed behind the two of them.

“If you’re checking out, I’ll bring your luggage down to the lobby for you.”

He guided them along the path that Hong-seo already knew well, trailing behind. Though this hotel didn’t strictly separate bellmen and doormen, no one had escorted him to his room when he checked in yesterday, which left him a bit puzzled. The doorman was probably hoping for a generous tip from Hae-sung after helping with the bags.

While the overly solicitous attitude made Hong-seo uncomfortable, Hae-sung didn’t seem to mind the doorman’s presence at all.

“What floor were you staying on? I thought I remembered, but I seem to have forgotten,” the doorman asked with an awkward smile, as though there could be nothing more regretful. But Hong-seo couldn’t quite understand him. Puzzled, he looked to Hae-sung, who interpreted for him.

“He’s asking what floor your room is on.”

“The fifth floor.”

“He says the fifth floor.”

“Oh, right! It was the fifth floor! And look, the elevator has arrived. After you, please.”

The doorman, holding the elevator door open, stepped aside to let them in first. His attitude was much more courteous than when he’d taken a photo for a family in the lobby earlier in exchange for a small tip.

Once in the elevator, the doorman pressed the button for the fifth floor and made friendly, polite small talk.

“You’ve only been staying for a few days, I think, and it’s a shame you’re checking out so soon. I assume you’ll be moving somewhere better?”

From behind the doorman, Hae-sung tilted his head towards Hong-seo and quietly asked in Korean.

“Was it three days ago you arrived?”

“No, it was yesterday.”

“Ah…”

He nodded, seeming to understand the situation.

Perhaps still feeling uneasy about the incident yesterday, the doorman glanced back at Hong-seo with a nearly remorseful expression.

“Uber vehicles aren’t allowed to enter the hotel premises. I hope you can understand,” he explained, looking as if he were almost pleading for forgiveness.

Though he caught only a few words—Uber, hotel, understand—Hong-seo could infer his meaning from the doorman’s expression and demeanor. He nodded, and the doorman’s face brightened.

No. No Uber. The doorman had waved away the Uber vehicle that had arrived and firmly gestured for Hong-seo to turn away. When the flustered and unsure Hong-seo struggled with how to handle the situation, the doorman had bluntly turned his back on him. It was hard to believe that yesterday’s doorman was the same person as today’s, given the drastic change in his attitude, more startling than satisfying.

While he understood that Hae-sung’s generous tip, and possibly the hope for more, might have influenced the doorman’s attitude, it was the first time he’d seen someone shift so easily over a few hundred dollars, and it left him stunned.

As the doorman accompanied them to the room, Hae-sung instructed him to wait outside. Unlike Hong-seo, Hae-sung seemed completely at ease with someone standing by to assist and following his convenience. It was a side of him that Hong-seo hadn’t seen in his past life.

“Did you spend the night here?”

As he slowly crossed the room, with its dull-colored carpet, Hae-sung looked around. When he reached the window, he pulled back the cream-colored curtains to look outside.

“There’s not much of a view, is there?”

He was right. The window only showed a bus company’s depot and a trailer park—nothing remotely scenic or exotic.

“I was so exhausted that I fell asleep right after getting back from the gallery. I didn’t notice any discomfort… and breakfast was quite good, too. There’s also a pool, though I didn’t check it out…”

Still looking out at the dismal view, Hae-sung turned to look at him. Standing by the room’s entrance, eagerly explaining, Hong-seo closed his mouth as he sensed the weight of his gaze. Rubbing his arms over the thin jacket he wore, he waited for him to speak.

“Are you worried that I’m upset because you stayed in this shabby hotel?”

“……”

“Yes. I’m not thrilled.”

He admitted bluntly, glancing down at the bed where a tired Hong-seo must have collapsed into sleep last night. More than the shabby hotel, it seemed he was bothered by the thought of leaving him alone in a place like this.

“I’ll pack quickly. I don’t have much.”

Feeling it would be best to leave quickly, he grabbed the backpack he’d left on the dresser beside the TV and began packing.

“Did you come all the way to LA with just this backpack?”

“It was a last-minute trip, and I didn’t need much.”

As he quickly stuffed some loungewear from the closet, a phone charger, and a few toiletries into his bag, Hae-sung remained silent. As he emerged from the bathroom, he suddenly stopped.

Hae-sung, standing by the bed, was holding the script he’d left on the bedside table. Pages stuck out at odd angles with colorful index tabs marking them, and the edges were frayed from being read and reread—*Crème Mansion*, his screenplay.

Like someone who had just found an old, forgotten treasure, he stood there, gazing down at it blankly.

“I brought it with me, but I was so tired I didn’t even look at it.”

The battered script looked like it was trying to prove he was still working hard, so he offered an awkward explanation, moving closer to him.

“Mind if I look inside?”

“It’s nothing special… Just random thoughts I jotted down. You can look, but please don’t read it.”

He urged him not to read the contents as he stood by, watching closely as Hae-sung flipped through the pages. If his gaze lingered too long on any page, he’d cover the contents with his hand and flip to the next.

The traces of his struggles in the script weren’t polished words or profound insights; they were more like raw diary entries written in simple terms, with occasional typos, making it embarrassing to share.

“Isn’t that enough?”

It seemed like he was reading parts of it, so he firmly closed the cover and tried to pull it away, but he wouldn’t let go. He wondered if he was teasing him, but when he looked up, his face showed a mix of emotions.

“You’re still so diligent.”

It was only after those words that he realized: Hae-sung had found yet another trace of Choi Hong-seo within this screenplay, rather than Yoon Hye-an.

Diligence. It was the quality Hong-seo had touted as his strength during their first meeting, and the one that had left a deep impression on Hae-sung.

Feeling that he might get too emotional again, he looked down and tugged at the screenplay once more.

“It’s because I know I don’t have natural talent,” he said.

Hae-sung, who had let go of the script, gently lifted his chin, their gazes meeting briefly before he moved his hand carefully, brushing away something by his eye.

“Everyone will think I made you cry,” he murmured.

“……”

“Well, I suppose it’s true.”

Hearing the self-reproach in his bitter smile, Hong-seo shook his head.

“I just cried on my own; it wasn’t because of you.”

Hae-sung leaned in, bending down to get a closer look at Hong-seo’s face. The sudden proximity made him instinctively hold his breath.

The thumb that had been holding his chin lightly scratched along his skin. The faint smile that softened his usually cool, sculpted features slowly spread. Yes, at first, back in Director Kang’s reception room, Hae-sung had seemed intimidating and distant.

“You seem to have misunderstood something,” he said.

“……”

“It’s painful to see you cry, but if you’re going to cry, it should be because of me.”

While he deliberated on how to respond, Hae-sung’s smile deepened as he pulled back.

“You’re really swollen. Let’s get it to go down a bit.”

Letting go of his chin, Hae-sung walked toward the room entrance. Watching him walk away, Hong-seo suddenly realized that he had been hoping for a kiss.

In the gallery, he’d held him close the whole time, and he’d all but declared that he no longer saw him as Yoon Hye-an. In fact, Hong-seo had clearly sensed the shift in his attitude. But so far, there had been no kiss.

He’d said it was fine.

Even if he had started to see him as Hong-seo, he would naturally need time to fully accept it. He’d even encouraged him to check as many times as he needed until he was absolutely certain. Feeling disappointed over the absence of a kiss made him feel foolish and embarrassed.

Holding the screenplay, Hong-seo wiped away the slight smile forming at the corner of his mouth and stuffed it into his backpack. That was the last of his packing.

“I thought you’d have more luggage, but it’s only one backpack. Since there’s no need to move any bags, could you let the concierge know that we’ll be checking out from the room?”

He heard Hae-sung speaking to the doorman waiting outside.

“We’ll be paying the suite rate for the stay,” he added.

“Of course, that can be arranged. We have a club lounge on the eighth floor where you might prefer to check out. It’s much more comfortable than the guest rooms.”

“Ah… Thanks, but I’d rather avoid encountering too many people.”

What are they talking about? With his backpack slung over one shoulder, Hong-seo walked to the foot of the bed and leaned in to watch the two men by the open door.

Hae-sung patted the doorman’s shoulder in a friendly gesture, his hand naturally slipping down to give him another tip.

“And some ice, please, if you could,” he added.

“Understood, I’ll take care of it right away.”

The doorman nodded, as if he would fulfill any request Hae-sung made, and left promptly from the doorway.