NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: Chapter 8
The relentless rain drummed against the window panes, and the tension in the air between Yeon-Jun and Woo-San hung heavily like the storm clouds outside. Woo-San remained silent, choosing not to break the stillness that enveloped them. Both of them sat on the cold hardwood floor, and an awkwardness lingered as they grappled with the unspoken words hanging between them. Yeon-Jun had methodically closed all the windows, drawn the blinds tightly, and pulled the curtains to block out the chaotic world outside, leaving only the warm, dim glow of the two wall sconces and the lamp beside him. The soft, flickering light created shadows that danced across the room, while the menacing rumble of thunder intermittently interrupted the sound of the rain, a sound that would normally evoke a sense of calm but instead stirred up painful memories Yeon-Jun desperately wished to suppress.
He sat on the side of the room that faced the relentless downpour, instinctively wishing to disappear into the very fabric of the floor beneath him. With each passing moment, he inched closer to Woo-San, as if seeking solace in another's presence without fully recognizing the act. Woo-San, meanwhile, couldn't help but steal glances at him. He watched as Yeon-Jun's shoulders became hunched, drawing inward as if he was folding in on himself like a wilting flower. A profound discomfort radiated from him, and yet Woo-San hesitated to reach out; he wasn't sure what to say or do. The knowledge that the wrong move might worsen Yeon-Jun's state kept him anchored in indecision.
Then, as if sensing the chasm between them, Woo-San took the initiative. He rose carefully and shifted to the other side, positioning himself closer to Yeon-Jun. The subtle movement seemed to break some invisible barrier, allowing Yeon-Jun to fully turn and take the spot beside Woo-San like a puzzle piece finding its place. Yeon-Jun's expression, though stern, held a whisper of gratitude—one that didn't require words. Woo-San understood this unspoken communication, his own heart easing with the small connection that had formed without the need for conversation.
The storm continued to rage outside, but for Woo-San, this moment was a refuge, a welcome escape from the crowds and chatter of bars or hotels. Here, in this dimly lit room, they shared an unsteady understanding that held the fragile potential for something more profound as the rain persisted around them.
"Do you want to watch a show?" Woo-San's voice was barely above a whisper, soft and tentative as it slipped through the heavy silence of the room with the muffled thunder in the background. Their eyes locked for a moment, each searching the other's expression. Yeon-Jun's gaze was inscrutable, a complex blend of emotions like storm clouds threatening to burst. Yet, there was a flicker of yearning for distraction, a desire to forget the relentless patter of rain outside that seemed to echo his own turbulent thoughts. In contrast, Woo-San wore a gentle, faintly hopeful smile—a warmth that suggested he understood the weight of Yeon-Jun's mood and was determined to alleviate it, if only for a little while.
"Grab Sun-Jae and run," Woo-San said, his voice steady as he rose to flick on the television. The glow from the screen illuminated the room, a stark contrast to the dim ambiance outside where raindrops streamed down the window like sorrowful tears. He deftly navigated through the system with a few swipes, pulling up a streaming service as he casually tossed his ID toward Yeon-Jun. "You can watch it anytime using this."
Yeon-Jun remained seated, a picture of stillness juxtaposed against the whirlwind of emotions swelling within him. As Woo-San settled comfortably beside him, loosening his cuffs and rolling them up in a relaxed manner, an unexpected sense of calm began to wash over Yeon-Jun. "Do you have some beer?" Woo-San asked, his tone almost casual, yet there was an underlying urgency in his words.
Yeon-Jun's brow furrowed in confusion; he never anticipated that someone like Woo-San could adopt such a casual demeanor amidst uncertainty and turmoil. But in that moment, he swallowed his judgment. "Is it in the fridge?" Woo-San inquired again when he received no immediate response. Yeon-Jun offered a slight nod, his grip tightening reflexively around the pillow he had pulled onto his chest—a subconscious shield against the world outside.
To his astonishment, within moments, Yeon-Jun found his worries of the rain dissipating like mist under the morning sun. This was nothing short of miraculous; for years, he had been ensnared in the grip of memories tied to that relentless downpour—a captive of his own nostalgia and sorrow.
Woo-San handed him a freshly opened can, offering it with a simple, friendly gesture. Yeon-Jun's eyes widened in disbelief, caught in a moment of surprise as he glanced between Woo-San's expectant face and the can of beer now resting in his palm. His confusion deepened, evident in the way his brows drew together. He pointed towards the can with his eyebrows raised, and then placed a hand over his chest, a silent question hanging in the air, "Me...?"
"Don't tell me you're under eighteen," Woo-San replied, a teasing lilt in his voice as he forcibly put the can into Yeon-Jun's reluctant grasp. With the remote control now firmly in his hold, he turned his attention to the television, oblivious to Yeon-Jun's internal debate. For Yeon-Jun, this was a noteworthy experience; he had never sought out a TV show with intention. Usually, his only encounters were snippets of promotional clips trickling down his social media feed or the news channels that served as mere background noise while he focused on work.
As the bright colors of the show flickered to life, Yeon-Jun found himself reluctantly drawn in, the weight of the rain outside momentarily forgotten, replaced instead by the lighthearted banter on the screen. This was new territory for him, a tentative step towards indulgence in something simple yet profound—a moment of shared companionship amidst the chaos of life.
"The girl holds such a bittersweet relationship with water," Woo-San mused, his voice soft yet resonant as they delved deeper into the unfolding narrative of the TV series. "After all, she became disabled because she nearly drowned, yet it was in the rain where she first encountered the intoxicating rush of love. Water took her legs, but it also became the very medium through which she leaped into action to save the precious memories of that love." As Woo-San spoke, a smile crept across his face, his countenance brightening, but his eyes betrayed a shadow of sorrow—a window into his own turbulent thoughts and the weighty proof he yearned to impart to Yeon-Jun.
"Isn't it poignant," he continued, "that the one thing you despise most could transform into a source of solace simply because it's intertwined with someone you hold dear? The way in which a painful memory can be supplanted by something more bearable—it's almost enchanting." His words sparked a flicker of recognition in Yeon-Jun's mind, echoing the sentiment that Yeon-Su had often articulated. "She lost her legs to the water, and every time she gazed upon it, the haunting memory of that fateful day flooded back to her. But, after she plunged into those same depths to rescue what she treasured most, her perspective shifted. Now, she finds herself drawn to the water more often, realizing that in confronting what once caused her pain, she can save herself and the things she loves. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all our most painful memories could simply vanish like that?" A gentle chuckle escaped Woo-San as he turned to face Yeon-Jun, who still seemed unable to grasp his perspective. The very thought was alien to him, evoking a fresh wave of discomfort.
"When the rain falls next, I want you to hold onto this moment," he murmured, placing a reassuring hand atop Yeon-Jun's head, a symbol of connection and understanding. "Remember how, today, you nearly cried for someone who has faced their demons but also found joy in overcoming them. Let this memory linger when you feel the tears coming up again, when the rain compels you to relive that sorrow. There will come a day when this moment, too, will be filled by laughter, when the very thing that once terrified you transforms into a source of joy." It was a powerful message, deeply moving, yet it was not Yeon-Jun who felt its weight. Instead, he found himself transfixed by the tears cascading down his own cheeks, the solemnity of Woo-San's words suffusing his heart with an overwhelming intensity.
"Don't allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of this world. It's a place unforgiving toward those who refuse to wrestle with their own insecurities and struggles." A note of self-deprecating humor tinged his laughter as Woo-San cleared his throat, wiping away the evidence of his own emotional turmoil, his hands brushing away the traces of tears.
Gently placing his hands on Woo-San's head, Yeon-Jun pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in a protective embrace. He rested his own head on Woo-San's shoulder, both of them enveloped in a comfortable silence that conveyed an unspoken understanding. Words failed them in that moment—neither could articulate the depth of their shared feelings, so Yeon-Jun opted for the warmth of a hug instead. It was a soft, enveloping hug that immediately relaxed Woo-San, who, until now, had rarely experienced such intimacy outside of his family.
With tender strokes along Woo-San's hair, Yeon-Jun aimed to soothe him, and as Woo-San listened, he closed his eyes, allowing the tension in his muscles to melt away, surrendering to the solace found in Yeon-Jun's embrace. Time seemed to stretch as they remained entwined like that, the world around them fading into a soft blur.
Eventually, Yeon-Jun became aware of the steady rhythm of Woo-San's breathing; he had succumbed to sleep, likely a consequence of the seven beers and three bottles of soju he had consumed in just an hour. "Of course he's drunk," Yeon-Jun mused silently, a small chuckle escaping his lips as a wave of affection washed over him. He found himself smiling at Woo-San's flushed cheeks, a sight he internally deemed adorable, despite the surprise that thought brought him. "How could I think that?" he sighed quietly, catching himself in that moment of vulnerability.
Carefully, Yeon-Jun eased Woo-San's head onto the couch, ensuring his neck was comfortably supported by a pillow, and then he rose to retrieve a soft blanket. As he draped it gently over Woo-San, a pang of guilt flickered within him at the idea of leaving him alone in the lounge. So, he decided to stay close. Moving back onto the couch, he settled in, pulling the blanket around himself as he cozied up next to Woo-San. It felt right, and in the surrounding quiet, he realized he had nearly forgotten about the rain and thunder that had previously commanded attention; the storm had subsided, leaving behind a tranquil ambiance that infused the moment with warmth and safety.