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It seems silly to say, but Yohan has always considered himself above most forms of attraction. It isn’t that he isn’t attracted to people, it simply hasn’t been important. He doesn’t consider himself above it all; he just doesn’t have time. He’s never had time.
Kang Jisang would have never approved of anyone Yohan would have thought to even consider bringing home. And, frankly, Yohan would never have thought to bring somebody home while Kang Jisang was still alive. In that month in the peace of the house, when the house began to feel a little like a home, maybe. Yohan spends the month mostly helping in that regard, in airing out the old rooms that would remain locked away, in chasing Elijah through the house and smiling at her shrieks of laughter, at the way Isaac’s face softened dramatically during that time, at the way they both began to actually feel their ages.
And then it would be gone.
For most of her life, Elijah has relied on him, whether or not she’s been aware of it. Those first days, caring for her wounds, helping her grow accustomed to her wheelchair, pretending the house didn’t feel empty once again, as empty as Yohan himself felt. In those first years before she really understood, that her parents wouldn’t be coming home again, when Yohan would kiss her good night and lie, lie every time she asked when they would be home, and tell her that they would be home soon. He wouldn’t dare to break that childish innocence she carried in her chubby cheeks he used to pinch, the hope in her smiles and unconditional love for him.
Yohan never allowed himself to grieve. He grieved all of the time. He was consumed in grief, in fire, and when she began to suspect him—he’s not sure when it starts—and when she begins to pull away, he lets her. Her love is no longer unconditional.
His always will be.
But he still has no time to allow for affairs or dalliances. He refuses to spend a night away from the house, so that in the rare chance Elijah may come to him, that he will be there. He will always be there.
It’s why the attraction to Gaon is overwhelming when it finally hits him that that is why he must have Gaon by his side. When Yohan finally pieces it together, that it is his own selfish desire to keep Gaon to himself, that it is the tidal wave of genuine attraction that leaves him pleading for Gaon to stay with him. He’s overwhelmed by the force of it, of the desire, the need, everything. It leads him to irrational decisions, to the shifting of plans, and confused looks from Ko Inguk and K alike.
It leads him to sitting opposite Elijah, playing jenga for nearly three hours, both too stubborn to give up. She laughs and he sees in her that unconditional love again. And he looks at Gaon and knows that same love must show on his face, because Gaon looks startled when he looks back at him.
Yohan can’t bring himself to care about how easily Gaon sees through him.
Because Gaon doesn’t leave him when the extent of his pain, the depth of his wounds, shows. When he wakes from nightmares every night, and Gaon rolls over and holds him as he shudders awake, to reality, only to find the pain no more bearable. When Gaon asks his question in that soft, accepting voice, and listens to the answers without judgement.
The depth of his attraction blossoms the longer he spends with Gaon. Yohan feels, as times, he is drowning in it, unable to retain control of his existence, when Gaon smiles at him and Yohan nearly drops the scissors he’s holding. If his trauma were the scorching heat of the summer, his grief the iciness of the winter, then it is in Gaon’s love that spring blossoms and Yohan sees the warmth approaching again; not a traumatic warmth of fire, but a gentle breeze by water, of healing rains and laughter of chasing a young Elijah through the grounds, always allowing her several steps ahead of him just to hear her laugh more.
Fire shapes him, but Yohan comes out on the other side, alive, breathing, and the grass no greener than the side before, not for himself. Not until he sees Gaon again, amidst the crowds of people. The hope he sees on Gaon’s face is not naive, not innocent. It is hope that has been beaten and crushed and despite all survives. Yohan, Gaon’s lips form and if Yohan tries hard enough, he can hear his voice clearly through it all.
His chest aches. He reminds himself it is his heart. He wonders, too, if Gaon’s heart aches.
In Switzerland, they watch television. A lot of it. Yohan grows used to sitting on the couch with Elijah and tearing apart whatever terrible show she’s chosen to put up. She starts turning on law-related things just to hear him go off on rants about how none of it is remotely close to accurate.
She hasn’t forgiven him. But Yohan begins to see a glimmer of hope. That same hope he saw in Gaon, broken and bruised but alive nonetheless. Warmth unfurls in his chest when he sees the way Elijah smiles, the way she begins to warm up to him again, to open up to him. There is always distance between them. But Yohan feels the forgiveness in ways he can’t ever properly express.
When he returns to Korea, the house is just a house. With Elijah’s permission, he sells it, the house, the land, the tortured souls who existed in it, died in it, and he watches as the developers who buy it tear it down and the ghosts fade to nothingness. “You can’t hit me anymore,” Yohan whispers to the fading ghost of Kang Jisang.
As he drives back to the city, it begins to rain. He’s reminded of healing rain; he rolls down the windows of the car and, when he reaches the apartment he’s only briefly caught glimpses of, he’s soaked to the bone. Gaon takes one look at him and just sighs. It’s filled with fondness and weariness and Yohan can’t help but laugh, a belly-laugh that nearly knocks him over with the force of it, and Gaon rolls his eyes at him and brings him inside.
“You’ll get sick,” Gaon scolds but Yohan feels nothing but the warmth, the affection, the love. He leans into each touch of Gaon’s hand to his skin, lowers his head to allow Gaon to dry his hair with a towel, and he doesn’t pull away when Gaon lingers.
Yohan drowns in the depths of his love for Gaon, but it’s okay, because Gaon is his lifesaver, pulling him back to the surface when he loses himself in his own head. In the inky darkness of the night, Yohan whispers truths to him, chokes on his own words as he tells stories of priests trying to cleanse his soul, of dogs trained to hurt, of bruises and bones broken, of always being on the outside looking in. Gaon holds him through tears and uncertainty and in no uncertain terms, promises him forever.
It seems silly to say, but Yohan has always considered himself above most forms of attraction. But with healing, with time, with the blossoming of spring, comes the promise of a better future. And it is in the unconditional love that he finds in Gaon, the innocence and hope he has managed to foster in Elijah, that Yohan finally allows himself to be at peace.
Part of what comes from Elijah’s recovery is Yohan’s recovery. Gaon doesn’t realise at first how much has changed, because it all comes filtered through occasional phone calls, a text or email every so often on whatever is the newest safe way to communicate. Unknown numbers and odd emails become immediate associations with Yohan in Switzerland.
Yohan smiles more. Gaon can hear that much in the phone calls, even through the tinny filter of distance and time between them; Yohan smiles and laughs when they talk. Yohan teases him softly and accepts gentle jabs in turn, much the way Gaon has seen him interact with Elijah. No longer is the weight of the world on Yohan’s shoulders, and that lightness suits him; laughter and warmth and gentle teasing tones become the norm and Gaon finds himself smiling more too. Yohan is still quiet, reserved, and Gaon can tell the moments when Yohan stops to think before he says anything, words chosen carefully. There are still times when Yohan feels like he’s taken a few steps backwards from healing.
“K didn’t make it,” is one of those times, when the weight comes back to his voice. When Yohan, so far away, feels like he could be right by his side and Gaon still wouldn’t know how to help. Yohan, drowning in the emotions he never let himself feel before, reaching out for help, and Gaon staring at his desperate attempts to float from the lifeboat, unsure of how to save him.
“I had a house for him,” Yohan says. Gaon hears the soft thump of Yohan’s head hitting the wall as he tilts his head back, the long inhale and longer exhale. The exhaustion that creeps into his voice when he speaks again. “Ah, I had so much for him. When this was all done, I had so much ready for him.”
Gaon does the only thing he can think to do to comfort him, the only thing that once would comfort him. “Tell me about him?”
“We met- eleven years ago,” Yohan says softly, tilting his head back. Emotions choke his voice for a moment, and Gaon understands when Yohan whispers, “Jo Keon. His name was Keon. Keonie… We met when I was still in law school. We… met.” Yohan lingers on the word a touch too long and Gaon understands when Yohan sighs again, takes another deep breath. His clothes rustle and when he speaks again, he sounds distant from his phone, like he’s set it down. Gaon can almost see the way Yohan is pinching the bridge of his nose, resting his elbows on his knees, the way he’s trying to keep himself together.
“You can fall apart if you need to,” Gaon says, softly, without thinking. Silence, on the other end of the line, and then a noise, soft. Gaon wishes he could be close enough to wipe the tears from Yohan’s cheeks.
“I bought him a house by the water,” Yohan says finally, in between a few rough inhales, each breath like dragging the weight of his body up over a cliff. “He loved beaches. He wanted to live by the water. To- he wanted to make things. He, ah, he was good with his hands. Not like- Metalworking, like jewellery. And technology, he was good with technology too.”
Gaon closes his eyes and listens. He hadn’t known K well, but listening to Yohan speak only gives him a better idea of who he was; K wasn’t just Yohan’s driver, or assistant, or right hand. Jo Keon was the first person Kang Yohan ever fell in love with.
“Keonie hated gifts,” Yohan murmurs, impossibly fond despite the tears. “It was near impossible to get him to accept gifts, even on his birthday. I always left them in places he’d only find them later. The first gift he let me give him was a watch.” Gaon knows they buried K with a watch. He, alongside Ko Inguk and Han Soyoon, had attended K’s funeral, quiet as it had been.
Yohan talks for almost two hours. His voice is hoarse by the end of it, and he sounds exhausted, like he’s clinging to wake by his fingertips and as he trails off, not quite asleep but not quite awake, Gaon whispers his stories in turn, of Soohyun and his parents, and listens as Yohan finally sleeps, the shallow even breaths on the other end of the line soothing even to him.
Gaon wakes up to a notification of an eight-hour long call, and three words from an unknown number. Thank you, Gaon-ah.
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They get onto the topic when Gaon asks about Elijah’s approaching birthday. Or, perhaps, just about Elijah’s birthday in general, given that he has to pause and tilt his head to ask, “When is Elijah’s birthday?”
“Next week. Friday,” Yohan says without looking up from the report on his desk, one of the ones that Gaon had thrown onto Yohan’s desk in front of him, on top of the book he had been reading at the time, citing a headache for his own reasoning for not being able to read it. Yohan can feel the same headache beginning to form.
“Do you have plans?” Yohan looks up and at Gaon blankly. He doesn’t need to speak to get his point across. Yes, her legally dead uncle has plenty of plans for her eighteenth birthday, well done, Gaon. Gaon flushes and crosses his arms defensively. “Can I take her out, then? To dinner?”
“Be safe, if you do,” Yohan says. It’s all but a yes, and Gaon beams at him for just long enough that the slight exasperation fades to the affectionate fondness that Yohan can’t help but feel for him. The look fades to something thoughtful and Yohan looks back down at the report—the fucking report—getting another two paragraphs through the unnecessarily wordy information before Gaon speaks again.
“Bujangnim? When is your birthday?”
Ignoring the easy bait of pointing out that they no longer work together in any official capacity, that Gaon has slipped up at least once and been unsure of what to call him, Yohan underlines a page in the report. “The same as yours.”
“What?” Gaon asks. Yohan glances up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“We share a birthday, you and I.”
“Because it’s ridiculous, there’s no way.” Gaon snatches up the license from the desk and scours over it, as though the information he’s looking for might be in any location other than where it reads on his own. Birthdate: November 27, 1985.
“I don’t believe you,” Gaon says immediately. Yohan scoffs and pulls his driver’s license from his wallet, tossing it onto the desk between them.
“Why would I lie about something you could so easily disprove?” Yohan leans back in his chair, pushing the headache-inducing report to the side.
“Again, I have no reason to lie about something so easily disproved,” Yohan says. Gaon reads over the information multiple times, as though it will change while he’s staring at it. “Give me my license back.”
“Hang on-”
“Gaon, give it back-” Gaon huffs and tosses the license back onto the desk, just slightly out of Yohan’s reach. Petty bastard. Yohan leans forward and grabs it, sliding it back into his wallet, catching Gaon’s gaze lingering on him only after a moment. “What.”
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I love this FMV with some materials from Jinyoung’s newest commercial. Gaon said “You’re lonely. I’m here for you” when Yohan just woke up from nightmares
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