The Crying Face
In the scenario, Hae-su accidentally witnesses his unrequited love, Su-hee, smashing a thug’s head with a rock and killing him. Su-hee soon realizes that Hae-su is the only witness. The rain has washed away all the evidence, yet a resident’s testimony leads the police to pin the crime on the older brother of a close friend. The brother, who already has a bad reputation and is disliked throughout the neighborhood, is dragged away by the authorities. Hae-su, who knows the real culprit, is torn by conflict. From that moment on, Su-hee begins to lean on him with words that seem deliberately chosen to shake his heart—the same Hae-su she had never once bothered to look at before.
“It’s literally just using him.”
I bit my nail while reading Su-hee’s line about visiting Hae-su’s room because she had a fever. As I tried to picture an actor who might suit the role, my hand unconsciously reached for the cup. The moment I lifted it to drink, thirsty for coffee, the cup left my fingers. My gaze followed it upward until it landed on Cha Jun-jae standing there.
“It’s empty.”
“Oh, already?”
Rain had been falling in fits and starts for days, clearing for brief moments only to leave the sky overcast again and again. During that time I had learned that Cha Jun-jae thought black bean noodles were slightly better than the alternatives, preferred cold noodles with vinegar when eating meat, liked soju more than beer, and that his only real hobby was doing puzzles. Pieced together, the small details painted Cha Jun-jae as a true master of solitary play.
Perhaps that knowledge had become the driving force; Su-hee’s character, which I had always felt needed more depth, finally clicked into place and the dialogue was rewritten. I had been drinking coffee and revising the scenario since yesterday evening. Once I had even decided on the directing style, I found myself searching for locations that could serve as the backdrop.
“Fresh coffee.”
“Thank you.”
Cha Jun-jae was a quiet supporter. He never disturbed me while I worked. If the coffee ran out, he would brew more and drink it with me. Whether I was on the bed, the sofa, or at the dining table, he would come find me and claim the seat beside me. He usually read in silence—borrowing the books I had brought—or listened to music through earphones. Sometimes he would lean against my shoulder, and the song he was listening to would reach me. There were times when that felt far more charming than listening directly, so I let him stay.
From what I had observed, Cha Jun-jae had little interest in cooking, yet he possessed a genuine talent for flavor. Every dish he made after casually following a video recipe turned out to be a success. It seemed he was the type who gained far more than the effort he put in. At this point, it was almost too exhausting to feel jealous.
“Hungry.”
Cha Jun-jae, who had been reading, turned his head toward me. I kissed his idle cheek. I had told him to drink coffee when he craved a cigarette, but he claimed that wasn’t enough and demanded this as compensation. Kisses whenever he was bored.
I wrapped my arms around his neck in playful complaint and collapsed against him. Sitting in the same position for so long made my back feel like it might snap. Sensing the familiar ache of an old complaint, I spoke in a gloomy tone.
“Jun-jae.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a position I want to test.”
There was no position I actually wanted to test. But whenever my back hurt or I felt bored, I used Cha Jun-jae like this. Asking him to hold me or kiss me out loud still embarrassed me. After all, until recently I had gone around telling everyone I hated him.
“I want to see if this position is realistically possible.”
Whenever I put on a serious face and pretended to ponder, Cha Jun-jae moved with quick precision. Even now, his eyes focused on my words were growing clearer by the second.
“First, hold me.”
“Hold you.”
The scent of his skin as he wrapped around me gave me a small flutter of excitement. I liked the way his hands circled my waist, seemingly without any ulterior motive.
“Now lift me.”
“While standing?”
“Yes.”
So Cha Jun-jae set me on the chair. I stood on it and waited for him. He wrapped his arms around me from my thighs to my waist and lifted me high. A small cry escaped me as I clung safely to his neck. As if deliberately teasing, he spun me in one elegant circle before looking up at me. We exchanged far more glances than necessary.
“Is this the position you wanted?”
I liked the earnest way he gazed up at me. I stroked his soft cheek and slowly lowered my face. Seeing his eyes close as though expecting a kiss made my heart bloom with excitement. The fact that no shadow ever crossed his face when he was with me—did that mean I was his sun? I used to find it unpleasant, the way he followed me everywhere like sunlight pouring down no matter where I went. But perhaps, on the contrary, I had been his sun all along.
It was a strange feeling. With eyes long accustomed to darkness, I slowly took his lips.
Kissing had become familiar, but kisses like this never did. This was the kind of kiss that turned me into a girl and made him feel like first love. He shyly bit my lip, licked it, then tasted the inside of my mouth with a tongue that felt like tickling. He left not even the slightest gap, only pulling back a fraction when we needed to breathe. The small, crying sound he made in his throat felt strangely erotic then. Heat would rise regardless of the weather, and blood would begin to boil throughout my body.
It was the same now. The hands that held my thighs slowly slipped beneath my clothes. The hand that entered my short T-shirt groped bare skin as it traveled upward. Eyes closed in concentration on the kiss, had he fallen so deeply into his own world that he didn’t know where his hand was going? No. He knew. Cha Jun-jae’s fingers finally reached the textured edge of my underwear. As if disappointed by that barrier, he dragged his fingernails down it.
“What are you doing?”
I pulled my lips away, our noses now touching. Only then did I notice that his eyes weren’t purely black—there was a touch of brown mixed in. I had been born with brown hair and brown eyes, so I’d been teased a little for it. Sometimes people even said they were envious that I never needed to dye my hair. In the moment I drew close to a man I had assumed was nothing but black, I discovered the brown I never knew Cha Jun-jae possessed. It felt good, like finding a part of myself inside him.
A man whose path had been similar to mine, yet completely different. I realized my legs were wrapped fully around his waist. His hands were still groping beneath the edge of my underwear. Cha Jun-jae, who had been silently looking up at me, gently scratched the hem of that underwear and spoke in a heavy voice.
“Busy with work?”
I understood what his words meant. My underwear would slide down like water, my legs would end up wrapped around his thighs on the bed, and we would overlap in places beyond our lips.
It was strange. My lips curved into a soft smile, as if they had been waiting for those very words. I brushed my fingers over the corner of his eye, which was growing anxiously wet.
“You helped me, so I finished everything today.”
The talk of testing positions had been an excuse. The fallen button had been an excuse. We had always found it difficult to be honest with each other, burdened by the years between us, yet we kissed as if we had made a promise. This time his kiss wasn’t shy like first love. From him I felt the fervent cheer of someone who had finally obtained what he desired. Footsteps too rapid for the rain to swallow thudded loudly across the floor. The door banged open, I fell onto the bed with a thud, and his body covered mine. One by one he threw off his clothes. Shirt, tank top, and then the beautiful bare torso revealed beneath.
He pinned both my hands down as if afraid I might run away. His lower body, heavily pressing against mine, was so hot it stabbed me almost painfully. Moving gently up and down like the waves here, it was clear exactly where he was rubbing. I had expected familiarity, but the clumsiness of it pleased me. I used my legs to wind tightly around his waist. My underwear had already been discarded by the door long ago.
The moment we joined, the pain was immense. His clumsy, brutal thrusts made me laugh despite myself. Cha Jun-jae was crying. He would never admit it, even in death. The face of the one entering was redder than the one receiving. It was hard to believe this was the same powerless man; he was so plaintive, so passionate.
I could only describe that face as crying.