Someone Like Yoo

XI

Chapter XI: The Different Sides Of Yoo Deok Hwa

It has only been three days since I first met Deokhwa in this very same spot and I've already seen a lot of different sides of him: his childish negotiations when I asked to enter Mr. Kim's house, his self-conceitedness when he asks me to call him oppa, his lack of manners, his attempts on mocking and teasing me, and his losing of focus during our dinner date. But then I remember feeling his hand brushing over the small of my back when he welcomed me into his house. I remember him back in the tea house when he whisked me away from the staring customers and into his car. I remember him and his sometimes-sloppy-and-sometimes-combed hair and how he throws his head back laughing at his own jokes. I remember the concentration sewn in his eyebrows and in the way his hands are hooked over the steering wheel when he drives. I remember the concern and panic in his voice as he held and shook my shoulders before I blacked out.

Now, with his suit a little disheveled, his bangs not in the proper places, his body shaking from the two-degree Celsius cold, and his eyes peering up at mine with a new gleam of innocence, I memorize every detail - because for a moment, maybe I want to remember this new side of Deokhwa.

"Raeyeon-ah," he called me one more time, his voice barely audible, before he stands up in a jump and his coat almost slipped down one of his shoulders. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?" I thought he was concerned, but he seemed to be a little embarrassed by the situation, shifting his weight on alternate legs.

I told him the truth. "Well, apparently you haven't returned my bike and I don't want to spend more money on buses and trains so.." I trailed off, already thinking of ways to escape this conversation. "Oh, and I did return your coat. I found out that we left them in the restaurant and it seemed that Auntie is friends with the manager so he returned them earlier this morning."

Deokhwa is not shivering anymore, but he seems to be looking down at his shoes in careful contemplation. "You see the thing is," he paused, looking up, "I kept your bike in my car."

"That's not what I remember." I remember him telling me to leave it here before he smacked me into his car - and not the other way around.

"Well, I might or might not have brought it with me yesterday," he tells me, bringing a hand behind his neck.

I hear a distant heartbeat. "By yesterday, you mean.."

"Nae. Yesterday as in that day." The heartbeat was mine. We both understood.

I've been doing great with avoiding the topic and keeping myself from thinking about it by investing in different distractions like spending the entire day doing errands in the university library and thumbing through keyboards in book-logging. But I guess it hasn't entirely came into my sense that there will be an ending to it and now here it is. I want to go home.

I looked over my shoulders to scan the driveway, but all I can see is the circling paved road and the empty fountain in the middle. I peered over Deokhwa and only saw silhouettes of shrubs and trees swaying with the winter breeze. I don't see any car.

"Your car is not here." It was supposed to be a question but it ended up sounding like a statement, as if I'm laying down facts. "Where's your car?"

He was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips and tapping his shoes against the asphalt, before finally meeting my eyes. "It's a pretty long story." He has this sad smile on his face and judging from how he had looked like when I arrived, I bet he'd gone through a lot of things today too.

"And I have plenty of time," I say, smiling up at him. I offered him the back of my hand, curling them in a gesture, and he looked down at it before meeting my eyes. "It's my turn to give you a ride home."