Traces and Storms

xv

   Myungsoo was slightly taken aback, upon seeing the one who rang their doorbell was me. He was wearing a black shirt which slightly exposed his collarbones, protruding from his firm skin, and a pair of gray jogging pants. His hair was a mess—an indication that he had no plans of leaving the house.

"This is new," he muttered. "What made you come here on your own will?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Myungsoo stepped sideways, and nodded. "It's cold. Come in."

The familiar scent of apples filled my senses. It was quiet, and he must've noticed my wandering eyes, for he said, "Wrong timing; my folks aren't around. Don't worry, though. I won't pounce on you. I might get slapped again."

"You were too much on that night," I snapped.

"I know," he agreed. "I've reflected on my actions."

"But you didn't apologize."

"I'll apologize to Jongin, but," he glanced at me. "Did the both of you get back together?"

"Don't be silly," I looked down on the carpeted floor. The fuzz already clung to my black socks. Myungsoo offered me a pair of house slippers, to which I gratefully wore. "It was just as he said. We simply bumped into each other."

"I see," he replied, his voice not giving away anything. "So, what brings you here?"

He led me to their kitchen, and as if on reflex, he pulled the coffeemaker closer to him, and took out two mugs from the cupboard, before pouring water into the machine's container.

"I visited the bookshop earlier," I began. "And asked the clerk how he knew you."

"Oh? What did he say?"

"He said something about your past mingling with your present in that place...something like that."

"Spot on." Myungsoo asked about which pod I wanted for my coffee, and I settled for chococino.

"What does that mean?" I proceeded.

"I throw away the things which remind me of my past, yet I return there, over and over again. Like a sick habit of some sort."

"If that's the case," I said. "Then isn't it the present you, who continues to mingle with the past?"

"That isn't necessarily it," he kept his eyes focused on the mug, resting beneath the drip. The machine started whirring. "Gramps knows better, after all. If that's what he sees, then that must be it."

"You can keep a conversation going, but you don't really speak, do you?"

He laughed.

"Empty words, filling in the things I want to know," I carried on. "I suppose that's one side of you that wouldn't go away just yet."

"Just yet," he echoed.

"When you told me you've decided to trust me, I'll keep that in mind. I'll wait, and since I'm here, I'll help you grow, as well."

This certain silence fell on us, like velvet curtains. It wasn't awkward. Rather, it gave space for our thoughts to wander. I was momentarily worried, thinking I may have said the wrong thing. Still, I never felt a tinge of regret. I was sincere at that time.

"Your words are gentle," he murmured. "But they shatter walls."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I joked.

"Take it as you wish," Myungsoo replied. "What I'm saying is, you're the dangerous one here."

"I should be cautious around you, too."