Chapter 8

A week later than originally planned, Si-woon finally made the trip down to Naeju. Do-gyeom had come down with a bad bout of the flu right before his scheduled visit, and Ji-woon had strictly forbidden Si-woon from coming until the boy’s fever broke.

“Whoa!” Do-gyeom gasped, his eyes round with wonder as Si-woon presented a massive plastic tub of Earth-shaped gummies alongside the capybara keychain. A recently lost baby tooth had left a neat gap in the front of the boy’s grin, making him look more endearing than ever. Hugging the tub against his chest like treasure, he spun toward his mother. “Mom, can I eat one right now?”

“Only one a day,” Ji-woon warned.

“Okay!” Beaming as though he had been handed the keys to a kingdom, Do-gyeom turned back to Si-woon with shining eyes. “Thank you, Uncle!”

An angel, Si-woon thought helplessly. Because Do-gyeom was prone to cavities and had been dragged to the dentist more times than he cared to count, sweets were strictly rationed in the house.

“Uncle, is it okay if I take some of these to school?”

“Huh? To school?”

“Yeah. I want to share them with my friends.”

“Of course you can.” Ruffling the boy’s soft hair until it stood up in every direction, Si-woon felt a warm swell of pride in his chest. If I’d known he was going to share them with his class, I would’ve bought two tubs. Even when Do-gyeom finally got his hands on a rare treat, his very first thought was to divide it among his friends.

Tugging lightly at Si-woon’s sleeve, Do-gyeom put on an exaggerated pout, averting his eyes while his toes wiggled against the living-room floor. “Since you brought the capybara and the gummies, I’ll forgive you for leaving early last time.”

“You’ll forgive me? Thank you, sir.” Playing along solemnly, Si-woon scooped his nephew up into his arms so they were eye to eye.

“Un-cle,” Do-gyeom drawled, wrapping his arms around Si-woon’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“…Are you really sleeping over tonight?”

The boy asked the question so cautiously—already bracing himself in case the answer was no—that something twisted sharply inside Si-woon’s chest. Do-gyeom was only eight years old; the thought that his nephew was already learning not to count on his promises was unbearable.

“Yeah. I’m staying the whole weekend.” Usually, when he feared a late call might pull him away, Si-woon hedged his answers. Tonight he had switched off his driver app completely. As he hugged the boy tight, they grinned at each other, the corners of their eyes crinkling in the exact same shape.

“I knew it! Uncle is the absolute best!”

Do-gyeom’s warm breath tickled his neck, and beside them, Ji-woon let out a quiet laugh. Between the weight of his nephew in his arms and the sound of his sister’s laughter, Si-woon felt more at peace than he had in months.

“Do-gyeom-ah,” he said, settling the boy on his knee. “Is there anything you want for Christmas next month?”

“Um… could you buy me a tub of these gummies again?”

“Absolutely not,” Ji-woon cut in before Si-woon could open his mouth. Only a week earlier, Do-gyeom had cried himself hoarse in the dentist’s chair; naturally, another giant tub of sugar was out of the question.

“Aw, Noona,” Si-woon pleaded on the boy’s behalf. “It’s not like he eats them every day.”

Ji-woon looked from her son—still clinging to his uncle like a burr—to Si-woon, her expression softening into the half-resigned fondness Si-woon remembered from his own childhood. Even though he had shot up past her height in high school after a childhood of thin meals, she still looked at him as if he were her kid brother who needed spoiling. “…Next time really is the last time,” she relented with a chuckle.

“You heard your mom—you’ll brush your teeth and listen to her, right?” Si-woon asked.

“Yeah!” Do-gyeom nodded solemnly.

Smiling back, Si-woon smoothed the boy’s wavy curls, though a quiet pang lingered beneath his warmth. Whenever they passed the toy aisle at the supermarket, Do-gyeom always made a show of looking the other way even as he stole wistful glances at the shelves. An eight-year-old boy had to have a dozen toys he was dying to own, yet he had asked for nothing more than a tub of gummies so he wouldn’t burden his uncle. I wonder if he’d like a building-block set, or maybe an RC car. A video-game console was beyond his budget right now, but if he set aside a little money over the next few weeks, he could certainly afford a proper toy by Christmas.

* * *

“You seem to have quite a few provincial trips lined up this coming week,” Si-woon remarked as he merged onto the highway.

“Ah, yes. Since our production line is based down here, I end up making the trip fairly often,” Je-hee replied, turning his head slightly toward the side window so Si-woon wouldn’t catch his guilty expression. In truth, his business in Naeju had wrapped up on Friday afternoon; he had stayed at a hotel an extra night on his own dime solely because he knew Si-woon would be down here visiting family for the weekend.

Glancing across the console, Je-hee couldn’t help noticing how relaxed and radiant Si-woon looked tonight—as though someone had brushed honey across his features. At the café a few weeks back, Si-woon had said there wasn’t anyone he needed to see on weekends, yet after weeks of turning down Je-hee’s calls, here he was glowing from head to toe on a Sunday evening. Je-hee hated how instantaneously his mind leaped to the worst conclusion: What if he started seeing someone down here?

“…Did you manage to pass along that capybara plushie?” Je-hee asked, striving to keep his voice conversational.

“Yes.” It was a single syllable, yet Si-woon’s mouth curved into an unmistakable, lingering smile at the memory.

Je-hee felt his stomach drop. So it really was a gift for someone special. Wishing he had never brought it up, he leaned a fraction closer before he could stop himself. “Whoever received it must have been thrilled.”

“Yes. My nephew had been begging for that exact one for ages… He wouldn’t let go of it.”

“Ah…”

His nephew. Of course—his nephew. Grown men bought plush keychains for their young nephews every day. Je-hee could scarcely believe the knots he had tied himself into over the past two minutes. Jealous of an elementary-schooler? What is wrong with me? Heat crept up his neck as he sank back against the headrest and stretched his legs, all his sharp tension dissolving into sheepish relief. A single word—nephew—had been enough to restore his peace of mind.

“How old is your nephew?” Je-hee asked, his tone noticeably lighter.

“He’ll be nine next year.”

“That’s such a cute age.”

“Yes.”

The reply was brief as ever, yet the warmth in Si-woon’s voice was unmistakable. There it was again: that unguarded gentleness that surfaced whenever his family came up. Je-hee wished, with a sudden quiet ache, that he belonged to the small circle of people who could call that look onto Si-woon’s face. Still, at least there was no romantic rival waiting in the wings. Handsome, diligent, unfailingly polite, and devoted to his family—what more could anyone ask for?

Content simply to admire the man’s profile, Je-hee reached toward the dashboard to nudge the cabin temperature up a notch, then frowned as his gaze fell on Si-woon’s outfit. Isn’t he dressed far too lightly for the weather? A thin bomber jacket layered over a cotton hoodie belonged in early October, not the dead of winter; the loose neckline around Si-woon’s collarbone made Je-hee shiver just looking at it. And he hasn’t even switched on his seat warmer. Pulling his own wool coat closer around himself, Je-hee discreetly tapped the heated-seat button for the driver’s side.

He had heard stories of designated drivers getting berated by prickly car owners for touching the climate controls without permission. Had bad experiences taught Si-woon to endure the chill in silence? Wait—does he think I’m the sort of client who would snap at him over a seat warmer? The thought stung more than it had any right to. They saw each other almost every week, they had shared seolleongtang and tea in the middle of the day, and Si-woon spoke to him far more comfortably now than on their first drive. Had Je-hee been the only one thinking they had grown closer?

“…”

In the darkened glass of the passenger window, his reflection looked unmistakably sulky. Pathetic. In the span of ten minutes he had gone from unwarranted jealousy to relief to nursing a bruised ego, all without Si-woon doing a single thing wrong. Stop staring at him. He had to school his eyes, his voice, every impulse to reach across the center console; if Si-woon caught wind of what his client was actually thinking, he would likely cut ties on the spot. He really would, wouldn’t he?

Reaching down to lower the seat warmer on his own side, Je-hee felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine—though he knew perfectly well the car’s heater wasn’t to blame. For all his inner speeches about not pressuring the younger man, here he was prolonging a business trip over the weekend just to spend three hours beside him in a car. Some restraint. Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would save him from his own overactive thoughts.

“Are we… here already?” Je-hee murmured some time later, roused by the gentle deceleration of the car.

When had he drifted off again? Like Pavlov’s dog, his body seemed conditioned to lose consciousness the moment Si-woon’s hands touched the steering wheel. He had stayed behind in Naeju specifically to talk to the man and get to know him better, only to waste the entire drive sleeping like a log. Maybe I should drink a double espresso before getting in the car next time.

“Ah, no—we haven’t arrived yet,” Si-woon’s voice came through the dim cabin, sounding apologetic. “Sorry to wake you. I pulled into a rest stop for just a moment.”

Already reaching for his seat belt out of habit, Je-hee blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Why are you apologizing? Stopping to rest is completely fine.” In the glow of the parking-area lamps, he caught the faintest upward curve at the corner of Si-woon’s mouth before the man lifted a neatly folded bomber jacket from his lap.

“Would you mind if I put my jacket on the back seat?”

“Of course not.” Glancing toward the rear seat as Si-woon reached back, Je-hee suddenly remembered turning on the driver’s seat warmer before he fell asleep. He had switched it on because Si-woon’s thin jacket looked freezing—and now the man was stripping down to a hoodie? “Wait, aren’t you cold?” Je-hee blurted out. To someone who suffered miserably every winter, shedding layers at night was incomprehensible—until he caught sight of the damp sheen of sweat across Si-woon’s forehead and temples. He’s overheating? “If it was too hot, why didn’t you turn the seat warmer off—”

“You looked cold earlier…” Si-woon said sheepishly. “When I’m too warm, I can always take a jacket off, but when someone’s cold, it’s much harder to warm up.”

What kind of self-sacrificing logic was that? Je-hee was too dumbfounded to argue. He had been dead asleep; Si-woon could have switched off the driver’s side seat warmer without affecting the passenger side at all, yet instead he had endured the heat in silence until he was drenched in sweat. Considerate to the point of foolishness.

“The seat warmers work separately on each side, Si-woon-ssi. Next time, please adjust yours however you like—I only turned it on earlier because I thought you might be chilly.” Switching off the three glowing red bars on the driver’s console himself, Je-hee shook his head as Si-woon murmured another quiet “I’m sorry.” Why was the man apologizing when Je-hee was the one who had meddled with his seat in the first place?

Once they merged back onto the expressway, Je-hee propped his elbow on the armrest, determined to stay awake for the remainder of the drive. “Do you always run that warm?”

“Yes. I’ve always had a lot of body heat.” Brushing his damp bangs back from his forehead, Si-woon tugged the loose collar of his hoodie slightly away from his throat, looking noticeably relieved now that the jacket was off and the seat beneath him had cooled.

“We’re complete opposites, then,” Je-hee remarked.

Si-woon gave a small nod, his gaze lingering briefly on the muffler wrapped high around Je-hee’s chin and the wool coat Je-hee still held drawn across his lap.

“…”

For a few miles, a comfortable hush settled back over the cabin, underscored by the low hum of the playlist Je-hee had queued up. Just as Je-hee was wondering whether the conversation had run its course, Si-woon spoke again of his own accord.

“What do you usually do on your weekends, Je-hee-ssi?”

“Me?” Caught completely off guard—it was the first personal question Si-woon had ever asked him unprompted—Je-hee straightened in his seat, feeling slightly flustered. “Usually I work out a bit, or catch up on housework I neglected during the week. Um… put like that, I suppose it sounds rather dull.”

Across the console, the corner of Si-woon’s mouth curved faintly in the dashboard glow, as if the earnestness of that ordinary answer had pleased him.

* * *