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Things were different when Yohan came back.
Gaon was different.
That was to be expected. It would be downright delirium to think nothing would change. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spoken to Gaon at all for three years. They kept in touch regularly. He could see first hand the toll work was taking on Gaon. Changing the world was a thankless job that stripped away at one's soul, one bureaucratic red tape at a time. It wasn't just the work. Yohan wasn't so self absorbed or blind that he couldn't see how lonely Gaon was those first few months.
He made a conscious effort to contact Gaon almost every day. He asked Inguk to keep an eye on their newly elected head of the Oversight Committee. He convinced Jinjoo to come back to Seoul despite her having made great progress at her local juvenile centre. He gently suggested Gaon get therapy, even went as far as to arrange for a therapist to approach Gaon.
When Inguk reported that Gaon still wasn't coping well, Yohan casually offered Gaon to come join him and Elijah in Switzerland. But by then, it was too late. Gaon was committed to seeing his work through no matter how miserable he felt. Yohan had chosen the right martyr for his cause and lived to regret it.
The misery passed, of course. Gaon was always resilient that way. But it left its mark. Gaon had been through a lot. Tragedy and grief changed people. Yohan would know. He wasn't itching to go back to Korea any time soon, not even for Gaon. Too many bad memories. Switzerland still felt new and fresh, a place where he and Elijah could start over, work on themselves and their battered relationship.
"Yohan," Gaon had said almost a year apart. "I'm seeing someone."
"Oh?" Yohan said, unsure what he was feeling except that his mouse was creaking under the crushing weight of his grip. "That's good. Who is she? Anyone I know?" The thing with Yohan was, the more rattled he got, the smoother he sounded. Unless he was emotionally heightened, he could sound warm, interested, amused, slightly teasing. He didn't feel like himself but it was a version he was used to playing.
Through the screen, he could make out Gaon's embarrassed smile. "Uh, she's a social activist for human rights. Maybe you've heard of her. Seo Yeojun? We met at this fundraiser."
"Wait a moment, I'll look her up," Yohan said. Seo Yeojun was very pretty. She reminded him a little of Cecilia. "She's pretty," he said, gaze softening. As long Gaon was happy. "Try not to annoy her by challenging everything she says. I'm happy for you."
Gaon chuckled. "Thanks but it's not like we're getting engaged or anything. We've been going out for only two months." He must like her a lot to bring it up with Yohan at all. Gaon didn't seem the type to date around just for kicks.
Yohan shrugged. "It's good to see you going out again."
Gaon hesitated before nodding. Yohan couldn't think why he would hesitate. Maybe the hesitation was all in Yohan's head. Gaon didn't bring up Seo Yeojun again after that. Yohan only knew they broke up when he remembered to ask Inguk about it four months later.
There were other dates, other lovers, some Gaon would mention but never going into detail. Yohan didn't mind. Couldn't mind even if it made his chest tight each time Gaon said he was dating someone. For all the intensity of their relationship, they had promised nothing to one another. They had never dated or fucked nor defined what was going on between them. Yohan wasn't about to start something when he was half the world away with no idea when he would return. That would be impractical. And worse than that, it would be cruel to them both.
It was Elijah who wanted to go back. The moment her doctors announced that she would be able to continue therapy back in Korea she announced they would be going home. Elijah was nineteen, a grown woman, standing on two legs for the first time in thirteen years and she was adamant that she couldn't spend another year away from her home.
"You don't even like Korea," Yohan sniffed.
"Home is where the people you love are," she spouted, sounding like one of those quotes people placed on organisational calendars. Yohan secretly agreed.
Gaon and his committee had been working hard to get Yohan pardoned which finally panned out earlier that year. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something. Everything just seemed to fall into place. He had never publicly retracted his death and had created a whole new identity for himself in Switzerland but well, Yohan hadn’t been in hiding either. He had been something of a public figure, easily recognised. Switzerland wasn’t exactly teeming with Koreans; he was bound to be spotted sooner or later.
Rumours abounded. Yohan watched from afar, happy to be out of the limelight. By the time the presidential pardon came, most people had placed Kang Yohan out of their minds. If he was careful, he could arrive in Korea without any fanfare.
Gaon was six months and two weeks deep into a relationship with a journalist - a man this time - when Yohan came home. At arrivals, Gaon hugged him so tightly, Yohan felt his bones creak in protest. The tears Gaon had been holding back fell like a burst dam when he saw Elijah, standing upright with the help of a cane. They tried not to make a scene, didn’t want to draw attention to themselves but as Yohan wiped the streaming tears from Gaon’s face, cradling and patting him, it was almost impossible not to kiss him.
“Gaon-ah,” Yohan said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve lost weight.”
Gaon sniffled and grinned, wiping his face with the back of his oversized sleeves. “It’s okay. Mrs. Ji, Inguk and the rest of the team are waiting for us at the restaurant. Come on. Elijah, I’ll take your bag.”
–
A week later Yohan met the journalist Gaon was dating at a press conference announcing his official return. He would have stayed out of the spotlight if he could help it but once word got out that Yohan was back in Korea it made sense to control the narrative rather than leave it to speculation.
The media ate it up. Yohan would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he still got a thrill from putting up a good show.
Backstage, Gaon came up to him with a nervous grin, a tall well dressed man beside him. "Sanghun, this is Kang Yohan-ssi. Yohan this is my…" Here Gaon took just a second too long to say the word, "Boyfriend."
"Pleasure," Park Sanghun said, offering his hand. "I've heard a lot about you. Nice speech you gave there. Are you sure you're staying out of politics? You have a real gift for oration. It would be a waste." He had an easy smile and laugh lines at the corner of his large expressive eyes. There was definitely an air of an intellectual to him despite the broad shoulders and above average good looks
If Park Sanghun wasn't dating Gaon, Yohan might have actually liked him.
"Politics is the last thing I'd want to get into. I rather enjoyed early retirement," Yohan replied with a smile, shaking the proffered hand.
"Well, if you ever want to write a tell all," Park Sanghun grinned. He was teasing. Or maybe he was just chasing a lead like any journalist worth his salt.
"Sanghun," Gaon said a little stiffly.
"Yes, my uncle has many secrets. If he told you everything, he might have to kill you." Elijah's slender fingers slipped around Yohan's arm, her tone sweetly sharp. Now that she didn't need a wheelchair, Elijah had only grown more brazen with her newfound mobility. "Kang Elijah," she added. "I'm sure you've heard about me too."
Sanghun's smile dimmed in confusion at her obvious hostility. "Yes, of course," he nodded, trying to maintain his composure. "Miss Elijah."
"Funny that I've never heard of you," she retorted, her gaze cold as she eyed Park Sanghun and then Gaon who failed to hide a wince. "Come on, Yohan, Mrs Ji and Inguk are waiting for us."
"Excuse my niece," Yohan murmured as he resisted being dragged away by a hobbling nineteen year old. "Gaon, I'll see you later. Mr Park," he dipped a nod in polite acknowledgement, noticing the troubled expression on Gaon's face and could not help the curl of satisfaction that bloomed in his chest.
"That was mean," Yohan observed later while they were driving home. He casted a glance at Elijah who was staring out the window, the frown on her face reflected on the glass.
"I don't like him."
"Park Sanghun?" Yohan asked.
"Obviously Park whatever his name is," Elijah fumed, crossing her arms in a huff.
Yohan hummed. "Gaon doesn't need your approval to date."
Elijah shot him a glare. "So? What are you going to do about it?"
"What do you mean?" Yohan asked, genuinely amused and curious at her vehemence.
"I thought you two were -" She bit her lip. "Nevermind." After a moment, she went on, her voice measured and as serious as she had ever sounded, "Gaon belongs with us. I know you agree with me."
Yohan nearly broke into laughter. Sometimes Elijah and him were scarily alike. He wondered what Isaac would have thought about this. Would he be pleased or would he be horrified?
–
Yohan naturally did some digging in Gaon's boyfriend and immediately dismissed the man as inconsequential no matter if he was an award winning journalist who specialized in covering financial scandals and had broken several major cases in the course of his career. Yohan had blown up the president. He doubted anyone could top that.
Despite Elijah's nudging, he was still partially torn over his approach on the whole issue. The last thing he wanted was to make Gaon miserable. He wasn't all that sure yet about Gaon's attachment to Park Sanghun, had no opportunity to observe their interactions, too busy settling into the new apartment and getting Elijah into a suitable Masters programme on top of liasing with the hospitals on her continued rehabilitation.
"I'm surprised at how far her treatment has progressed," Gaon said when Yohan brought up the subject while they were picking furnishings. The apartment Yohan purchased was already partially furnished but certain things required personalisation. He didn't quite need to ask Gaon to help out; Gaon had been spending much of his free time helping them settle in, it only took a mild suggestion to have him volunteering to accompany Yohan when Elijah claimed she wanted to go to an education fair by herself.
"She'll need to make a few trips back to Switzerland but she's mostly stable."
"And I'm even more surprised you'd actually let her go on her own," Gaon remarked, deliberating between two different coloured bed sheets.
"Ms Han is accompanying her," Yohan sighed. "She's all grown up. She's been calling me a worrywart ahjussi whenever I express my concerns so I try not to make a fuss of things."
Gaon's cheeks puff slightly, holding back laughter even as his eyes curve in amusement. "I'm not laughing at you," he pointed out when Yohan shot him a disgruntled look. "I'm glad. You were so protective of her. With good reason. But it's nice to see you let go a bit. I'm sure Elijah appreciates it."
They strolled slowly through the mall, making quips and bantering over their choices in decor. Yohan didn't ask if Park Sanghun minded his boyfriend spending so much with someone else on a Saturday and Gaon didn't bring it up either. This way, they passed the whole morning in relative ease.
–
Gaon helped him set up the bedrooms in the afternoon. Elijah wasn't home yet, whether on purpose or because she was truly busy Yohan didn't know. Either way, he was selfishly happy to have more of Gaon to himself. The apartment had three bedrooms and Yohan had let Gaon choose the colour scheme and design of the third bedroom to his liking.
"You could hire an interior designer. I'm not sure if my preferences match yours," Gaon suggested, smoothing the pillows and standing back to appraise his own handiwork. He had a penchant for warm palettes and soft wools. "We should also get you some indoor plants. I could give you some to start."
"According to my niece, I don't have any particular preferences apart from dark and moody," Yohan smiled. "But I would appreciate some plants. And Gaon," Yohan added, carefully choosing his words, "You know you are welcome to stay here whenever you like."
Gaon paused, looking around the room again, at the large bed decked out in sheets and pillows he had chosen, the walls painted in shade he had suggested, the empty shelves and comfortable writing desk he had picked. "Oh," Gaon inhaled, growing quiet as a light flush crept into his cheeks. "But uh," he coughed, clearly flustered. "I still have my apartment. And, there's also…." He trailed off, gaze lifting to Yohan, heavy with a mix of conflicting emotions.
"Of course," Yohan said softly, letting some of the heat seep into his eyes. "I understand. Just a thought." He had to be careful how much vulnerability he let shine through. Gaon was always good at seeing through his bullshit. With the air thick between them, Yohan was surprised to find his heart pounding in his chest, tinged with just a smidgen of desperation and wishful thinking. Perhaps he wasn't as confident in his standing in Gaon's heart as he once was. He had misjudged before.
Yohan swallowed, looking away first, breaking the moment and reaching for his phone. "Should we check if Elijah and Soyoon are -"
"Yohan."
Gaon had drifted a lot closer. No matter how angry or upset or emotional he got, he always looked soft around the edges, like he was inviting a touch, a palm to his chest to hold him back and steady him. "Yohan, I -" he cut himself off staring wild eyed and hungry at Yohan, and at the same time, scared of his hunger.
Yohan didn't know who reached for whom first. This felt as if it had been building since Gaon pulled Yohan into his arms at the airport. Maybe even before that. Maybe this had been brewing from the moment Gaon shook his hand in his office all those years ago. They were different people now but three years hadn’t changed the cruel selfish want. As Gaon groaned into his mouth, tongue licking against his hard palate, Yohan could feel the familiar excitable buzz flooding his veins, push and pull, fight or flight, the urge to mold, manipulate, shape and take everything that was Kim Gaon. Make him see the truth, make him submit, make him Yohan’s.
They tumbled onto the bed, Yohan kissing Gaon deeply, frantically, hands roaming over one another, under layers of shirts to touch fevered damp skin. Beneath him Gaon squirmed and shuddered as a knee was pressed between his legs, the enticing line of his throat barred as his head tilted back, gasping sharply. Yohan stole the breath from his plush mouth, kissed him again and again, drunk on the taste and scent and desire. He could kiss Gaon forever just like this; Gaon’s fingers fisted into his hair, nails scraping deliciously against his scalp, the press of his mouth urgent and heated.
“Yohan - Yohan, st - mmf,” Gaon moans were muffled between increasingly wet, sloppy kisses, the clothed bulge in his jeans rubbing against Yohan’s, making him throb and burn with arousal. “Yohan,” Gaon tried again, voice cracking and tugging his hair with too much force to ignore. Yohan stopped and rolled off Gaon with a heavy sigh, collapsing onto his back on the bed, the both of them breathing hard. His lips felt strange without the constant friction, buzzing and sensitive.
The late afternoon sun was casting a yellow glare through the curtainless windows. Gaon had picked the curtains too but they hadn’t managed to put them up yet. Beside him, Gaon lifted both hands to his face, heels digging into his eyes. “Shit,” he uttered in a shuddery breath.
Yohan sat up and took Gaon’s wrists, gently pulling his hands away. “Stop that,” Yohan murmured. It didn’t surprise him that Gaon looked close to tears, misery and guilt written all over his face. His mouth was so red and ravished, Yohan was sorely tempted to pin his arms down and kiss him again. Instead he allowed Gaon space to sit up, choosing to hold his tongue. Actions spoke louder than words after all.
“I should go,” Gaon said hoarsely. He slid unsteadily to his feet and shuffled out. Yohan didn’t bother to stop him.
–
Gaon made himself scarce after that, citing work whenever Elijah asked him to come over. She didn't press but she did raise a judgemental eyebrow at Yohan who muttered, "I'm working on it."
Yohan wasn’t sorry about their tryst but he was sorry that Gaon had cheated on his current partner. Knowing Gaon must feel like hell and Yohan was partly to blame. He wanted Gaon happy, not to upend his life. There should have been confessing and wooing and dating first; the usual rigmarole of a relationship. He should apologise. And if Gaon was serious about the journalist, Yohan could pretend it was just a bad decision on both their ends that didn’t mean anything.
“You don’t have to tell him. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Yohan advised two weeks later, looking around at the potted plants that lined the benches and shelves. It was late. Gaon never made it home before the sun had set. Yohan spent a good hour waiting but it wasn't like he had anything much to do.
The place could have been a small jungle. Gaon’s apartment reminded him of badly stacked legos, more balcony than interior. He was surprised Gaon still stayed here after so many years. He was earning well enough to afford a place in Seoul. The surrounding slums had seen some improvement. There were more shops now and the neighbourhood seemed a little better. “I know that’s not your style,” Yohan added. "But I strongly suggest you consider it."
Gaon went on repotting a calathea like he hadn’t heard, his back turned to Yohan, sleeves rolled up, gentle fingers loosening the plant's roots. He really had lost weight. Yohan could make out his shoulder blades under his loose blue shirt. "I broke up with Sanghun last week."
“Oh,” was all Yohan could manage. He slipped his hands into his pockets and wished he could smother the kernel of pleasure warming his gut. He searched for the right reaction, couldn’t bring himself to play it out and ended up not doing anything but stare at Gaon’s back.
"Yeah," Gaon said, tone snide. "Is there anything else you wanted?" He wiped his hands on a cloth and turned around.
Yohan studied the tense set of his shoulders and the blaze in his eyes with incredulity. "Are you angry at me?"
'Yes, I'm fucking angry," Gaon said taking a step closer, the whites of his eyes showing the way it did when he got really worked up, chest heaving. "I shouldn't be, I know. But I am. At you. At myself. I actually liked Sanghun. I admired him. I respected him. And I fucked it up." He took a great heaving breath, bright eyes narrowed on Yohan, nose tinged red from holding back his emotions. “I can’t do this.”
A million ways to interpret that statement. “I haven’t asked anything of you,” Yohan said slowly. “Yet. And I’ve never made you do something you didn’t want to do.”
“I know,” Gaon said, frustration shaking its way into his voice. “I know that. But you come back and it’s like -” He was staring at the ground, hands twisting the cloth in his grasp. “It’s been three years,” he murmured more to himself than to Yohan.
“I asked you to come to Switzerland.”
“The Oversight Committee was just formed. I couldn’t just leave. And then well, I didn’t want to leave. Yohan, I’m not blaming you. I just wished you’d…” Asked me sooner. “I don’t regret it. We’re making some really good progress.”
“Gaon… it was never my intention -” Yohan sighed, biting back the words. If he was being honest, he had not intended to return to Korea. He did place the responsibility of judicial reformation on Gaon. He did leave him to deal with the fallout mostly by himself. But he also offered Gaon an out and Gaon did not take it. “Your happiness is important to me,” he said as sincerely as possible because it was the truth. ‘
Gaon softened, shoulders sagging. “I know. I know you didn’t want me to wait. I tried that. Not waiting. But then you said you were coming back and I -” He exhaled shakily, turning a small potted plant around and around in his hands. “Yohan, I’m just awful. I knew, deep down, he was just a distraction. They all were. And I still let him believe I was in love with him.”
Yohan reached forward and gently took the plant away, squeezing Gaon’s hand in his own. “Tell me what you want,” he pleaded. All the plans and goals of revenge were behind him now. Yohan didn’t have anything he wanted to achieve in life except making the people he loved happy. And he loved Gaon. His idea of love was strange and twisted in many ways but he loved all the same. He would hand Gaon the world on a platter if he’d only asked.
“I just need some time to think.”
–
“Cut him some slack,” said Inguk, lifting a glass of amber whisky with the tips of his fingers. “You suddenly decided you wanted to fuck him after all this time and he broke up with his boyfriend because of you. He needs time.”
“I didn't force him to do anything. I'm not rushing him either. And this isn't about sex,” Yohan defended petulantly. He wasn't particularly in the mood for drinking but Inguk had suggested the venue. The bar was one of those glitzy, classy types, with vintage gold decor and wooden bar tops, all gilded mirrors and glass. The customers were mainly professionals and, by the sound of the conversation around, they were mainly of the legal variety. Trust a lawyer to bring him to a bar full of other lawyers.
“You don't understand how hard it was on Gaon when you left like that,” Inguk retorted then added in a rough whisper. “On all of us.”
Yohan shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't thought he meant that much to anyone. He had set everything up for his team even before they took the first major steps to realising Yohan's plan. Inguk, Sooyoung and Chief Jo would be well taken care of. He knew Inguk intended to turn himself in but Yohan was betting on the man’s self-perseverance to avoid that. The worst case scenario involved a change of identities and a secret stash of funds that would set them up for life. There would be no further need for Judge Kang Yohan. "I wasn't a particularly great boss," Yohan said. "Or a good person."
"Yeah," snorted Inguk. "You made Gaon cheat on his boyfriend and you're not even sorry. Even worse than that, you just left him to what? Pick up the pieces of your disestablishment Guy Fawkes act?"
"Are you drunk? Yohan asked suspiciously. Inguk was in a mood today, already seated and sipping when he had arrived. It wasn't the first time Yohan had heard this spiel but he had a good reason for staying away. Inguk should know better. Did know better. He kept tabs on Gaon for Yohan all this time.
"Not nearly goddamn enough," Inguk muttered and took another sip. While others downed their sorrows by throwing back shot after shot, Ko Inguk never rushed the process of getting wasted.
"Ah, he spoke to you," Yohan said, realisation flicking on like a light bulb. Inguk was one of Gaon's closest friends, it would make sense that he'd seek out his advice.
“Why did you do it, Yohan? Gaon's culpable as well and he fully admits it but you. You should know better. He's stupid about you.”
“I guess I was feeling… possessive,” he shrugged. Yohan should have waited. It was a mistake to have made Gaon feel like that.
“You just wanted to show him how much you still owned him, didn't you? Body and soul. Especially since he's been seeing other people.”
“Nothing as crass as that," Yohan said but acknowledging that was partially true.
Inguk had a way of eyeing people that seemed to communicate his utter condescension without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. "Those early few months, before we heard a word from you… he was such a mess. His best friend was six feet under, his father figure turned out to be a piece of trash and you were god knows where. He was lonely as hell. All he did was work. You can't blame him for seeking comfort in other people."
“I don't blame him at all.”
“Then give him time. He's a romantic person. He likes surprises and love-confessions and breakfast in bed. Plants more than flowers. You can grovel too. He likes that. He's got a nasty streak just like you.”
Yohan sat back taking stock of his friend's cavalier attitude, eyes narrowed and amused. “Ko Inguk, that sounds like you're speaking from experience.”
Inguk shot him a devilish little smirk and leaned in close. Yohan could smell the sweet whiskey on his breath and beneath that the spicy scent of the cologne Inguk favoured. A flare of heat shot through Yohan that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "Do you want to know something else?" asked Inguk in a low lilting voice, the lazy dip of his lashes was definitely on purpose. "About Gaon's preferences?"
"When did this happen?" Yohan asked, refusing to back down. Gaon and Inguk in bed together. He couldn't tell if his gut was stirring with jealousy or something else. Maybe both.
With a shake of his head, Inguk pulled away, breaking the moment like a magician popping a rabbit back into his hat and swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He could charm the best of them. "It was just a couple of times. I told you he was a mess. He missed you badly. Mostly he just wanted to cuddle."
"You didn't tell me."
"If Gaon didn't tell you then why should I? It's none of your business who I sleep with."
Yohan grimaced into his glass of brandy. Inguk had a point. He tried to consider how he might react if Gaon and Inguk were in a serious relationship and found himself at a loss. Would he be able to accept it graciously?
“Stop thinking about it,” Inguk advised, “I can tell you’re plotting where to bury my body.”
“Not at all,” Yohan murmured, taking a sip of brandy and nearly choking when someone slapped him on the shoulder.
“Chief Kang, Lawyer Ko, fancy seeing you here,” greeted the bright bubbly voice of Oh Jinjoo. Judging by her clothes, she had just gotten off from work. She looked exactly the same as she had since they had first met and neither the years nor the events that transpired had dampened her energy one bit. Yohan and her kept in touch, not as regularly, but he could always rely on her to give him a different insight into things. “Would you like to meet my team, Chief Kang? We’re having drinks just over there.” She gestured to a booth in a corner where several curious faces were craning towards them. He spotted Gaon’s wooden expression among them.
“You go ahead,” Inguk said, sounding bored and hunching down determinedly over his drink. “I’ve met them all before.”
“It would be a pleasure, Miss Oh,” Yohan said. “And I’m no longer your chief. Just call me Yohan.” He followed her to the table, watching with amusement as the wariness on Gaon’s face grew as they approached. Gaon had his bangs styled and curling away from his forehead, looking older and more professional. Yohan swore he had seen the suit Gaon was wearing before.
Gaon’s team of five other people were all in their early twenties to late thirties. They were an enthusiastic bunch and a bit starstruck.
“Judge Kang, I am such a big fan,” breathed a young man with sharp cheekbones and bony wrists, his eyes shining with awe. Yohan smiled, quietly entertained that much of the casual public found a man who committed violent anarchist acts as someone to be admired. He accepted the young man’s card and many more after Jinjoo introduced everyone.
“I hear you’re close to our Chief Kim. Please stay and have a drink with us,” piped a woman, grinning widely while her friend cuffed her on the hand.
“I’m sure Yohan-ssi -” Gaon started to say.
“Unfortunately my niece is waiting for me. But I’ll buy the next round,” Yohan said to cheers of delight. He stayed for a while, getting to know Gaon’s and Jinjoo’s co-workers all the while Gaon sat awkwardly, shooting him the occasional suspicious glare. Jinjoo tried to make him stay but Yohan made his excuses for Gaon’s sake and stepped out into the cool night air. He considered sending Inguk a rude text but was interrupted by someone calling his name.
Yohan spun around, slowed his steps but didn’t stop even when he saw Gaon jogging towards him, face flushed and panting. The younger man caught up easily, snagging Yohan’s arm. “What are you doing here?” If there was animosity, Yohan couldn’t detect any.
“Inguk invited me for a drink,” he explained.
“Ah… I thought,” he blushed, lips tightening then looking away, releasing his grip.
“My theory is that Jinjoo and Inguk set us up,” Yohan added just to watch him mull over this and scowl in indignation. “Shouldn’t you be heading back, Chief Kim? You’ve only just arrived.”
Gaon pulled out his phone, thumb flying across the screen. “We do this every Friday anyway. Jinjoo has me covered.” He met Yohan’s gaze, unsure, pocketing his phone and adjusting his satchel bag. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked tentatively.
–
Gaon bought them coffee; a latte for himself and black with a little creamer for Yohan, exactly how he liked it. He was a little touched that Gaon remembered. Or maybe he should have expected it. Gaon was always attentive when it came to food.
“I’ve been thinking,” Gaon said as they strolled along the shops without any real destination in mind. The streets in Seoul centre on a Friday night were busy with people, friends and families out having a good time. There was a markedly different atmosphere from three years prior but Yohan couldn’t have said exactly what that difference was. Maybe it was the lack of SRF propaganda flashing across every billboard.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Yohan pointed out.
“Yes, but I’ve also been thinking,” Gaon insisted. “About us.”
“And?” Yohan prompted after a few more metres of comfortable silence. ‘What conclusion have you arrived at, Judge Kim?”
“That you scare me,” Gaon said easily, his shoulder bumping into Yohan’s and taking a noisy slurp of his latte.
“I thought I didn’t scare you. Ever,” Yohan said, thinking back on all the times they would butt heads. Still did. Whenever Gaon wanted an extreme take on the changes he wanted to implement he came to Yohan just for a verbal sparring.
“Not like that,“ Gaon said. He hesitated and chewed on his lower lip for the moment. “Sanghun says I’m closed off. Like I have an impenetrable wall. No matter how close he tries to get, he feels like there are some parts of me he just doesn’t have access to. Does that make sense? I guess when you lose people often, that happens. You get protective of yourself. You get scared.”
Yohan hummed in agreement. He understood that only too well even though he didn’t like to admit it.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Gaon said in a rush. “I know it’s dumb but I… Yohan. I can’t lose you. I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared. It wasn’t easy when you left with Elijah. You didn’t leave leave but you weren’t around. Not really. I don’t think I can deal with that again. If you chose to leave. Again. For whatever reason.”
Yohan stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. “Gaon-ah,” he said, throat tight at the sight of Gaon’s large expressive doe eyes which hid nothing. How could Gaon be closed off or distant? He was as clear to Yohan as a well-loved book, every flicker of emotion committed to memory. “I’m sorry.”
Gaon blinked.
“I’m sorry. About Park Sanghun,” Yohan went on. “I’m sorry for leaving like that. For the pain I caused. For not giving you a choice. I’m not good at apologies. Most of the time I don’t even think I’m wrong.” He scoffed, wry and self-deprecating, nodding to himself, one hand around his coffee cup, the other in his pocket less he reached out to touch. “I’m not a nice person. I’m not a good person. I will do anything to get what I want. You already know that. But I promise you I’m not leaving. I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me. Barring death, of course. That’s out of my control.”
As Yohan spoke, Gaon’s ears had turned steadily redder, mouth falling slightly open. “Well,” he said, collecting himself and scanning furtively around. No one was paying them any attention. A grin started spreading on Gaon’s face, although he was still pink with embarrassment. “I’ve heard a lot of confessions in my lifetime and you don’t make a very good case for yourself. Did you rehearse that?”
Yohan rolled his shoulders and started walking again. “A version of it,” he admitted. Many times over the years but he wasn’t about to tell Gaon that.
“Kinda cheesy.”
“Inguk said you liked being confessed to.”
Gaon spluttered the latte he was drinking all over the pavement, face beet red. “He, uh, told you that?” he asked weakly.
Yohan leaned close enough that they were almost touching and whispered in his heated ear, “Would you like to know what else he said?” He drew away, chuckling at Gaon’s shocked wide eyes and started to walk away as Gaon regained his composure, the beginnings of affronted denial drowned by the sound of laughter.