Vivid Thorn
"Is this really the time to be watching a movie?"
As if he'd known I would say exactly that, Cha Jun-jae flopped onto the bed like a stubborn frog. Before he could start whining, I slipped my hand under the covers and caught his escaping wrist. When I yanked it toward me, his arm came up without any resistance. He looked every inch the invalid, and I shook my head, completely at a loss for words.
"Would you care to watch a movie, my good sir?"
"My good sir?"
"Then first, we're drying your hair."
Ever since he'd gotten sick, Cha Jun-jae had stopped listening to reason. I dragged him upright by force. We both knew that wet hair wouldn't help his cold in the slightest. It still took me a full five minutes just to haul him out of bed and over to the vanity.
Another minute to plug in the hair dryer. One more to grab his shoulders and force him to sit down. Only after wasting seven minutes total could I finally turn the dryer on and bring it to his head. The moment the warm air began to hum, the man who'd been trying so desperately to flee went perfectly still.
I slid my fingers into his hair and shook it loose. It was thick and soft, softer than fleece. Drying it so quietly like this made me feel like I was caring for a mischievous cat. I smiled at my own thoughts, finished drying most of it, and switched the dryer off. Cha Jun-jae lifted his head and touched his hair as if to check. His cheeks and ears had flushed red from the heat.
"Done?"
"Yeah."
"Then bed now?"
I still didn't understand why he was so insistent on lying in bed together to watch a movie. Then again, today had basically been a wash already. I was playfully ruffling his hair—the hair he loved having touched—when my hand suddenly stopped. I'd found a piercing mark I hadn't expected.
"You got your ear pierced?"
"A long time ago. Just once."
The feeling that rose in my stomach was sharp and sour. I disliked Cha Jun-jae, but I'd always believed I understood him better than anyone. Better, even, than he understood himself. So discovering a trace of him I hadn't known about felt strangely foreign—and deeply disappointing. In that moment, I pressed the spot with the tip of my fingernail, as if I could erase it. Caught off guard, Cha Jun-jae flinched and tucked his neck in, then turned tomato-red as he looked up at me. There wasn't a hint of resistance in his eyes. Instead, they pleaded for more, like he was begging me to keep touching him. I snatched my hand away as if I'd been burned.
"Let's watch the movie."
Exhausted from housework, from nursing him, from the strain on my mind, I walked over and sat on the bed. Almost mechanically, I fetched the laptop and set it on my thighs. I kept my gaze fixed on the dark screen, refusing to look in Cha Jun-jae's direction. I clicked on one of the top-ranked new releases—something that would normally have taken me hours of indecision.
I stacked two pillows behind me the way I always did at home, lay back with my stomach slightly rounded, and stared at the screen. The mattress dipped beside me with his weight. I felt the fresh scent of lemon slowly winding its way under the blanket. Sharing a single blanket with Cha Jun-jae to watch a movie. Even now, the idea felt impossible—like the sun rising in the west. Half-resigned, I pressed the back of my head into the pillow.
Then the soft, freshly dried strands of his hair brushed against my shoulder. When I turned my head just slightly, I saw his head had invaded my rightful pillow territory. It looked like he was about to bury himself against me. I stared at him blankly. Aware of my gaze, Cha Jun-jae offered a long excuse.
"My eyes aren't good... I need to get closer to see properly."
"Hey. Seriously."
I almost let out a sarcastic how impressive, but stopped myself. I couldn't bring myself to say anything harsh to someone who was sick and acting spoiled. Without another word, I started the movie. Maybe because it was an action film he liked, I was completely absorbed within ten minutes. I watched with my thumb in my mouth out of habit. I hadn't even checked who the lead was, so I found myself admiring the face that appeared on screen. It was a male actor who'd been rising steadily last year and this year. His type was completely different from Cha Jun-jae's. There was the pure, innocent type, the cute type—each with their own distinct charm. This one was definitely the cute type.
In the story, the protagonist's parents are framed and die unjustly. He becomes a boxer to take bloody revenge on the enemy who destroyed his family. The plot was cliché, but the actors' performances and the spectacular action sequences were undeniably captivating. Especially since the face of the young man seeking vengeance was so clear and beautiful. As the revenge unfolded, the scenes grew increasingly graphic, matching the R-rating. When the protagonist finally committed murder, my emotional investment reached its peak. I even gave a thumbs-up during the scene where the boy who'd once been so happy over a single glass of milk had grown up and was now receiving a tattoo like some gang member.
"His acting is really good. He comes across as someone with genuinely dry emotions."
Especially that last scene. Even after losing his lover, he couldn't show his feelings because of the situation—his eyes simply turned bloodshot as he cried. That had left a deep impression. The film, which had used the actor's bold shirtless scenes to draw viewers in, was now moving into its middle act. Thinking it deserved its high ranking, I glanced sideways without thinking. The movie paused because Cha Jun-jae was staring so intensely it seemed he might bore a hole through the screen.
"Aren't you watching?"
"So you like Kim Sung-jae."
"Kim Sung—ah, right. I couldn't remember his last name. Kim Sung-jae... He's a good actor."
"Kim Sung-jae's personality is pretty bad, though..."
Cha Jun-jae's characteristic way of drawing out his words seemed even more prolonged because he was sick. He turned back to his own pillow as if telling me to watch alone. Lying there and staring at the ceiling, he looked like a fish barely clinging to life. I never imagined the same person who'd made such a fuss about watching together would check out halfway through.
"You're not going to watch? It's almost at the climax."
"Watch it."
Yet he still didn't come any closer. With no other choice, I decided to ignore Cha Jun-jae and focus on the movie. I restarted it, trying to concentrate on the protagonist receiving his tattoo without anesthesia. From the empty space beside me, the complaints kept coming.
"That guy uses artificial tears when he acts... I saw it all up close, every single time."
I doubted my ears and hit pause. There was Cha Jun-jae, who had cleverly shut his mouth at the perfect moment. The instant my finger moved toward the play button, his lips launched into round two.
"If the female lead is a rookie, he complains about how it hurts his pride to act with her."
"Jun-jae."
"His personality is seriously weird. His acting feels kind of flat, too."
I stubbornly tried to press play again, but then came the words that started with But. I closed the laptop lid completely. I'd given up on watching the movie. I let out a long sigh and pressed my head hard into the pillow. Was this what it looked like when one actor felt threatened by another? Yet Cha Jun-jae had never struck me as someone who cared about box office numbers or his reputation. Even back in school, he never paid any attention to people who talked behind his back.
"Ah."
There had been one time—one single time—when Cha Jun-jae got into a fight that the entire other class knew about. The other kid had grabbed him by the collar, one-sidedly threatening to kill him or whatever. Cha Jun-jae, who had no reason to engage in a fight where he'd clearly come out the loser, had simply ignored it with an attitude that said, Where is that dog barking from? The taste of the drink I'd had from the school store that day, the smell of the classroom, and the expression on Cha Jun-jae's face came back to me one after another.
"There's a fight in class eight!"
It had been the sweet break after lunch. In a recess normally spent chatting or playing around, news of Cha Jun-jae's fight spread like wildfire. Wanting to see it for myself, I ran over quickly, but it wasn't the fight I'd expected. One of the school's worst delinquents was hurling curses at Cha Jun-jae, picking a fight. Claiming Cha Jun-jae had bullied him from behind, ignored him, that sort of thing.
Within the school, Cha Jun-jae's image was that of a model student—kind to everyone and strikingly handsome on top of it. He was like a flawless idol, so the kid fighting him was receiving an overwhelming amount of side-eye and verbal abuse. I'd come with sky-high expectations after hearing Cha Jun-jae was in a fight, but interest faded as the predictable outcome unfolded. I was just about to head back to the classroom when our eyes met. In that brief instant, a terrifying light flashed in Cha Jun-jae's gaze. I believe that's when the delinquent's fist flew. After that, Cha Jun-jae's fan club rushed in and dragged the troublemaker away. The delinquent, who later claimed he'd been the victim of school violence, transferred to another school not long afterward.
"Are you sleeping?"
"I'm not sleeping."
"Do you remember Yang Ju-seok?"
His name had been Yang Ju-seok. I'd thought someone living as carefree a life as Cha Jun-jae would have forgotten all about him, but the reaction was immediate—his eyes suddenly burned with fierce heat.