Traces and Storms

iii

   "A storm," I parroted, unable to think of a more sensible reply. I was taken aback by Myungsoo's prompt answer. His gaze was straightforward, his voice steady. As if he had already accepted the fact that this person—whoever she was—stirred up something in his life. To keep the conversation going, I managed to follow up, "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"You decide."

"I can't. It's your experience."

Myungsoo ran his hand through his black hair, glimmering beneath the soft glow of the sun. He scrunched his nose for a split second, before placing his thumb and index finger on his chin.

"There are many gray areas," he concluded. "It's both."

"Do you..." I began, my tone of voice cautious, because I knew I was treading on foreign territory. "Regret it?"

"I don't," he replied.

I wanted to ask why, but his pensive expression made me think he wouldn't answer. At that time, I attempted to connect with whatever he was feeling. I asked myself the same question I threw at him: do you regret it?

Do you regret meeting Jongin?

Do you regret falling in love with him?

Do you regret those five years you spent with him?

There was no hiding it: I was hurt. Nevertheless, there was not a tinge of regret. No matter how strange it sounded, I was grateful I got to spend those times with Jongin. I was grateful it was him. Perhaps, that was how Myungsoo also felt. The only difference was, I stopped chasing when Jongin broke it off. Myungsoo didn't. Wouldn't.

"I have every reason to walk away," he said. "But I will still choose to stay."

"Why?"

"I can't justify it. I simply want to. That's all."

"Oh."

"You don't understand, do you?"

"I honestly don't," I admitted.

"You don't have to."

"And if I want to?"

Myungsoo chuckled. "Good luck trying."

He asked me afterwards if I had any plans for the day, aside from reading a novel upside down. I told him nothing much.

"Do you want to tag along, then?" he offered. "I'm going out to take photographs."

"We'd have the same material if we go together," I pointed out.

"But different perspectives," he finished off. "The sky's clear and we can have some ice cream along the way. What do you think? Tempting, right?"

Myungsoo raised his eyebrows at the last sentence, causing me to laugh at him.

"She won't get mad?"

"She doesn't care enough."

I suddenly felt bad, having to ask him that. Still, the warmth in Myungsoo's eyes didn't waver. He nodded his head at the street ahead of us.

"Let me lock up first," I said. "Do you want to have something before we go?"

"I'm good, so hurry up."

-::-

We rode the bus to the next district, filled with murals, cafés, and buskers. Everything in that place was soaked with different colors and voices—merely standing would send one's heart abuzz. There was not a streak of white cloud against the cerulean sky, and even the relentless chirps of the cicadas failed to overpower the buskers' voices.