Work Text:
“Who was that?”
“Ji An you said you didn’t really have any friends in Seoul.”
“I don’t think he’s her friend.”
Her friends’ questions and comments pepper Ji An for the remainder of the afternoon. Sometimes she still finds it strange to be the object of affection and friendly jibes; she had spent so much of her life alone or with only her grandmother to lean on that even a couple years on she can find the attention from others overwhelming. Just knowing that none of this would be possible without his influence fills her with both joy and sadness.
After hours of pestering, she finally gives up how she knows the handsome ajusshi from their coffee break. “He was the manager of my team at my last company,” she explains as they are gathering up their bags and coats to head out for an after work soju.
Eun Ji gives her a look as she puts on her bright pink coat. “Ji An, we all have former managers.” She looks around the group to a bunch of nods. “None of us would have sought him out if we could have just slipped away without him ever knowing.”
The other two nod, and Ji An allows the silence to ride for minute. It’s been a long time since she has felt so pinned by another human being, and in the back of her mind, she wonders how she survived so long with this kind of wariness. “He was very kind when my grandmother died. I will forever be grateful,” she finally says.
She watches as the other three girls exchange a skeptical look, and for just a moment, Ji An feels a bolt of panic that her resolve to let her past go might not work out as it had for the past two years. But then the moment breaks when Ji Young nods sympathetically. “You were so young to have lost all your family. I can imagine a soft smile would have helped a lot.”
Eun Ji grabs her arm and starts leading her to the elevator bank. “Let’s go find you some soju. It’s been a long day.”
The other two follow behind and start chatting about the new classes they start on Monday, and Ji An lets the incocious conversation wash over her and soothe her raw nerves. The elevator chimes they are on the ground floor before she realizes that she had been clutching her phone in her pocket like a lifeline since she explained about her grandmother, and it’s only as they hit the cacophony of the Seoul streets that she finally allows her fingers to unclench and relax.
**
It’s not until he’s about to walk down the stairs to the train platform that Dong Hoon recalls he hasn’t ridden a train home since he started his company. He almost questions what has him this turned around, but even he is not that foolish about himself. When he had returned to the office, the looks he received from his old team were intent and questioning.
Late in the afternoon, Manager Song cornered him in his office. “What happened?” he demanded.
For half a second, Dong Hoon thought about playing dumb, but although that might work with some of the others, he suspected that Manager Song had had the read on him for much longer than he’d care to admit. “I ran into Miss Lee Ji An today.”
Of all the things he suspected, Dong Hoon could tell this was not among what Manager Song was expecting. But his face slowly morphed into one of understanding. “Oh. I guess that makes sense then. You haven’t looked like this in a while.”
Dong Hoon moved to speak, but Manager Song interrupted instead. “You have been happier, but there was always something about you that was missing since she left. It’s both lonely and hopeful. Is she well?”
“Yes. She is. Her new company promoted her which is why she’s back in Seoul.” It was then that Dong Hoon realized that was really all he knew. He had been secretly hoping to run into her for two years, and in the precious few moments he got, he didn’t even really learn anything new. He was simply overwhelmed by her finally standing in front of him again.
“You’ll have to invite her out with sometime,” he suggested. And Dong Hoon just nodded, falling into a contemplative state. Thinking back on their conversation made him regret all the things he didn’t get the chance to say. All the things he couldn’t before.
“I will,” he reiterated after realizing he had fallen silent long enough for Manager Song to start to look concerned. “Get back to work. These buildings just don’t stay up by themselves.”
Manager Song chuckled and retreated leaving Dong Hoon to his pensive thoughts. Dong Hoon knew deep down that today wasn’t the last time he would see her, she would keep her word and call him, but a small part of him panicked that he had lost her all over again.
His eyes strayed to his desk and the picture of his wife and son, and then lower to the drawer he never opens. He had been waiting to address the papers his wife left before she headed back to America the last time, foolishly believing if he kept them hidden away he might never need face the heartbreak on his mother’s face. But with the reappearance of something he rarely dared voice he lost, he might finally have found the resolve to address what he’d been ignoring for so long.
Dong Hoon returns to the office from the subway station, bypassing the down button on the elevator to the car park to return to his office for a moment before driving home. There’s something he needs to change before he can go home and wait for her call.
**
Ji An agonizes all weekend over when is just the right moment to follow up on her promise to Dong Hoon. Over the past two years, she’s dreamt of this moment over and over again, but now that it’s here, she worries that she has it all wrong. That the way his face light up like the sun when he saw her was only her hopes clouding the reality of the moment. She even stops by Jung Hee’s bar before the neighborhood descends on the second morning to tell Jung Hee she’s back.
Jung Hee begs her to come out that night, insisting the men haven’t forgotten her and often inquire with Jung Hee when she had last heard from her and confirm she’s doing well. Jung Hee even sly states that Dong Hoon seems to get very still and contemplative whenever anyone asks after her. Ji An decides she’s not ready to come back to them all, not yet; she needs to know where she stands with Dong Hoon first. But the warmth with which Jung Hee greets and feeds her makes her regret waiting so long to let the older woman know she had come back to Seoul.
Ji An promises to meet her for coffee soon before leaving even if she dodges the question of when she might stop by to say hello to everyone. If Jung Hee suspects any ulterior reasons for Ji An’s hesitancy, she keeps them to herself.
It’s much later than one should call when Ji An finally plucks up the courage to dial his number. The phone only rings in her ear twice before he picks up. “Yes?”
Ji An’s heart skips a beat. After the days and days she listened to his every moment, she thinks she will never able to not physically react to the sound of his deep voice. She hears sounds in the background, all warm chatter and laughter, and she knows without a doubt that he’s sitting at Jung Hee’s bar.
“Are you there?” he asks. She hears people calling in the background out at him; she even thinks she hears Ki Hoon ask where he’s going before the background noise falls away to nothing.
“ Ne. I’m here.” Her hand flexes around the phone, and for a moment, they just breathe, and she pictures him standing tall by the bench Jung Hee keeps out front, his silhouette illuminated by the soft lights cutting through the dark.
Dong Hoon chuckles softly in her ear. “I had thought you forgot about me,” he teases gently.
Ji An almost reacts before she catches the mirth in his tone. And with that, all her anxiety evaporates. He’s just as fragile as she is here; just as worried about making a mistake and wanting too much. “I never forgot you, ajusshi. ”
Her breath catches when her brain catches up with her mouth, and she hears Dong Hoon do the same miles away. “Ji An -”
She interrupts before he can get further. She’s waited too long to get a confession over the phone; she needs to see his face and memorize every second of what he means. “Let’s get dinner tomorrow, ajusshi. My treat.”
He takes a moment to respond, and she wonders if he’s as dazed as she feels. “Yes, tomorrow. Later after work?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll text you when I leave.”
“Okay.”
She pauses again to listen to him breathe. To say she has missed just listening to him existing would undercut how much he affected her over that month she heard every second of all of his days. Time has not done much to wash away how just listening to him breathe calms her.
“Ji An,” he speaks as though he’s painfully aware as to why she fell silent. “Go to sleep.”
She nods once before she remembers he can’t see her. “Yes, ajusshi. ”
“I will see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” She repeats it like a prayer before hanging up.
Ji An looks around her apartment for a moment before she lets the grin that has been threatening to overtake her face loose. She has lived like no one could hurt her for two years, but for the first time in just as long, she feels like she can finally breathe again. She goes about her nightly rituals knowing that she will be chasing the ghost of sleep all evening.
**
Dong Hoon lets the cool breeze wash over him as he stares at the dimming light of his phone screen. He takes a moment before he returns inside. In the quiet of the evening, he does not have to face the ribbing of his friends over what type of phone call might be important enough to take outside. He finds himself jealously guarding the knowledge of Ji An’s return at the moment even if he knows seeing her would thrill all of them.
Dong Hoon appreciates the easy way they have always accepted Ji An into their large and loud circle, and he can even admit now he appreciates the way she seems to be comfortable enough to allow it in a way he never felt Yoon Hee did. But for now, he will hold the news of her return close to his chest. Let her decide when the moment is right for her to return.
He slips back into the bar to a chorus of questions demanding what draws him away so late into the evening. He lies and says it was just work; they have a large report due tomorrow and one of his teams was just letting him know they were wrapping up for the evening now that it was done.
Jae Chul opines that he thought Dong Hoon wasn’t that type of boss but being a CEO now must have changed him. Dong Hoon takes the good-natured insults in stride as he settles back at the bar, but the curious look on Jung Hee’s face puts him on edge. It seems that at least one of his old friends doesn’t quite believe his tale.
Time passes, and somehow Dong Hoon finds himself still sitting alone at the bar as Jung Hee waves off the last of the soccer club into the dark evening with some well wishes and homemade hangover remedy ideas neither will remember in the morning. With the click of the closing door, Dong Hoon feels the mood shift from easy congeniality into one that is tense and charged.
He doesn’t turn around, and Jung Hee doesn’t seem to see the need to question him to his face. “How long have you known she’s back, Dong Hoon?”
He stays completely still for a long moment before he sighs. “Just a few days.” He pauses here as he aligns his thoughts. “She found me while I was out to coffee with a work acquaintance. We spoke just briefly, but she offered to buy me a meal.”
Dong Hoon pauses again, and Jung Hee does not move either, just waiting for him to finish. “That was her on the phone. We are having dinner tomorrow.”
Jung Hee moves now, taking up the empty seat next to him at the bar. “Dong Hoon, are you sure?”
For a moment he’s surprised that is her only question, that she isn’t demanding why he is even thinking about having a meal with this young woman while he is a married man when the implications of it could ruin him, but then he thinks about how carefully Jung Hee has observed him every time Ji An has slipped into conversations over the past months, and he realizes for as much as he believes his circle of friends at large might be oblivious to the nature of Dong Hoon’s soft spot over his young former employee, Jung Hee is not.
“Yes,” he says. “I am sure.”
Jung Hee nods next to him. “Then I will trust you both, but just remember, you both have your heart on the line here.”
He sits in stunned silence for a moment before he turns to look at her and ask, “Aren’t you curious about my wife?”
Jung Hee smiles softly and pats his arm. “Yoon Hee came to me before she left last time to say goodbye. She said she might never see me again, but that it was for the best, and that she would appreciate if I watched over you to make sure you were doing okay and to tell your mother if you weren’t.”
He is stunned, but he nods slowly. “And Dong Hoon, I’ve known that girl has loved you since the night she slept next to me and cried herself to sleep.”
Something ugly twists in his chest at the thought Ji An ever cried herself to sleep over him, and tears well in his eyes before he fights them back. “Okay.”
Jung Hee stands and looks around the bar. “Go home, Dong Hoon. I will take care of this mess and you need your rest.”
He chuckles weakly before he stands and stretches. He makes his way across the bar, and as he hits the door, he wishes her a good night.
He’s almost out the door when she says, “And Dong Hoon, it’s okay to let yourself love her as well.”
He turns and nods once before leaving briskly so that only the cool night air knows of the single tear which escapes.
**
Ji An is eternally grateful that she was not amongst the rotation of teachers receiving a new class that morning. Although her closest friends do, she only has two tenured classes and spends most of the day going over her lesson plans for later in the week and trying not to vomit up everything she’s eaten all day when she allows herself to think about her evening plans.
As they are walking out onto the street, Ji Young invites her to drinks with her and a few co-workers Ji An does not know as well. She begs off complaining of an upset stomach and only feels a brief flash of guilt at her not-quite-subterfuge. It’s only on the train to her apartment that she realizes she never would have felt any guilt before her association with Dong Hoon and wonders for the millionth time if maybe this is a mistake.
Ji An changes; it’s nothing too elaborate, if she’s grateful for one thing it’s that she knows she has no need to impress her ajusshi with fancy clothing or make-up as he’s seen her at some of her lowest moments and always accepted her as she was, just a simple top and jeans that don’t look like she’s borrowed them from a much taller friend.
The sun is just setting as she locks the door to her flat and heads back to the subway to meet him. He has yet to text her, but if she learned nothing in her time with him, he will stay just late enough so that no one would question his dedication to his company but not so late that he would let her worry. And it’s as if he knew she was on her way, her phone buzzes with a simple text, “Finishing up soon. Will meet you there.”
Ji An smiles at her phone and slips it back into her purse; she allows the smile to linger across her lips as she bops her head in time with the music pumping through her head phones. She exits at what used to be her neighborhood stop and feels her heart clench a bit when she thinks back to all the other times she has walked through this station with Dong Hoon’s voice in her ears.
When she reaches the top of the steps and turns toward the bar they always went, she falters. She realizes that she never told Dong Hoon where to meet her, and what is even more surprising is that he never remembered to ask either. Ji An pulls her phone from her purse as she follows the familiar path; the phone rings and rings, finally prompting her to leave a message.
“ Ajusshi, we never said where we were meeting, I just assumed, well, I am going to that bar we had many meals at before. Let me know if that isn’t the place you’re going. I will find you.”
She considers waiting when she needs to stop for cross traffic at a busy street to see if he returns her call but decides to risk it. She can only imagine two places he wouldn’t feel the need to tell her where to meet him, and after he seemed intent on not giving up to the neighborhood at large details of their dinner last night, she feels confident that it can only be one place.
She slowly winds her way to that bar where they spent countless evenings sharing snacks, soju, and stories neither one had told anyone at all. Hers were always far more personal, dug from the depth of her soul and laying bare on the table like a creature from the depths of the ocean, a bit ugly and very unsuitable for a world filled with light; but he still told her stories which made her heart ache. Of sending his son abroad because there simply weren’t hours in the day for both work and his family, and he didn’t think it was fair to ask his wife to give up her career when he could not give up his own, chances that he never took that seemed meaningless at the time which then haunted him as what-ifs.
Ji An nearly passes the corner where this small bar of Dong Hoon’s friend lives she’s so lost in her memories. She stops short just shy of the door, and she hears a car door shut behind her. The street is quiet enough that she turns out of habit to see him striding towards her, distracted, phone to his ear, and just as she takes all this in, her phone buzzes in her hand, his name lighting up the dark screen.
She laughs softly at the coincidence which draws his attention to her. He lowers his phone as a smile creeps across his face. He shrugs sheepishly and says, “I just assumed. I never even realized we had not set a place.”
She smiles up at him, somehow taller than she remembers even if she decided to sacrifice the few centimeters of height to wear flat shoes instead of heels, and laughs. “It’s okay. We made it here in the end.”
His eyes lock with hers, and for a moment she forgets to breathe, the look he’s giving her is so intense. He breaks away after a moment, slight color rising in his cheeks, before he moves to open the door for her, nodding her inside. She passes inside, her shoulder grazing his chest, and tries to remember how to breathe normally.
The owner looks up and greets them with a huge smile and friendly hello. “You’re back!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know if I would have the pleasure again. We’ve missed you! Take a seat!”
Dong Hoon seems unconcerned that the barman has shared with her knowledge of how much he’s missed her, and it allows Ji An to relax a bit more knowing she wasn’t the only one with a piece missing over the past two years. He brings them both a beer and glasses which settle onto the table with a quiet clank. And when Ji An goes to open her own bottle, Dong Hoon’s hand catches her wrist, prying her gently away from the beer. “I’ve got yours.”
Ji An is struck silent. She had hoped, believed, even prayed for some small signal like this, but even with him shining like the sun in her presence, she still had doubts that things might turn out differently this time. He fills her glass as she watches, then his own, before raising his up for cheers.
She lifts her own glass gingerly, waiting to see what he says. “Let’s be happy, Ji An.”
He clinks his glass against hers before taking a sip, and she mimics him by taking a small draw of her beer. She replaces the glass to the table top and stares at it for a long moment, trying to decide if now is the right time to bring up the one thing that always put a damper on her desire to see him again.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “I thought you wanted to come.”
She shakes her head, looking up into his concerned face. “It’s not that,” she insists, pausing before deciding that if this evening is not going to end with her crying herself to sleep she needs to know now before she lets her heart run away from her. “It’s just… ajusshi, what about your wife?”
Dong Hoon turns his glass of beer around in his hands for a long moment before he meets her eyes. “Oh that. We are getting divorced.” The words that escape his lips seem to surprise even him. He shakes his head ruefully before going on, “I signed the papers this morning and sent them to my lawyer. It’s done.”
Ji An sits very still at this news, not quite believing her ears. Divorced. Those were words she had hardly even hoped to hear from him over the past two years, but then her brain catches up to the rest of his words. “This morning…” she protests, raising her hands to object. “ Ajusshi , you can’t, not over me.”
Dong Hoon sets down his beer again and gathers her hands in his, drawing her focus back to him. “Ji An.” He waits until she meets his gaze, which is so very soft. “My wife, she left them before she returned to America last time many months ago. I was just waiting for… well I’m not really sure, but once I saw you, I knew that it wasn’t time to wait anymore. Whatever sign I had been waiting for, it had come to me.”
Ji An feels the tears fall down her face, and she watches through blurred vision as Dong Hoon removes one of his hands from hers to retrieve a napkin from the edge of the table. He ever so gently wipes away her tears as his other thumb rubs soothing circles across her knuckles. “Please don’t cry. We are going to be happy.”
She pulls her hands away, only to just catch the one of his that is just shy of cradling her cheek into her grasp. She smiles at him, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over, and hiccups. “I am crying because I’m so happy. This feels like a dream.”
He grins at that, his own eyes looking suspiciously moist, before he pulls away and signals to his friend to get them some food. Ji An takes a moment to compose herself; and when she meets his gaze again, she only feels inclined to let a smile break across her face.
**
He insists on driving her home at the end of the evening. They’ve sat for hours drinking beer, sharing snacks and catching up on all the other things they’ve missed. He talks of things that don’t matter as much now that the most important piece is out in the open: sharing stories of the neighborhood, his brothers, the new company, and she shares in turn: stories of the friends she’s made, funny teaching anecdotes and new colleagues she’d rather live without. She has finally lived a life free of burden, and this shining young woman across from him makes his heart ache in a way that is both painfully familiar and a bit foreign.
They sit in mutual silence outside her building. Dong Hoon has a light floaty feeling that he usually associates with just too much soju, but he knows that can’t be the case since they only each had beer tonight, and not even too much as he knew he would be driving at some point. There’s a soft hum inside the car from the engine, but Dong Hoon doesn’t think that explains why the air feels so taught with electricity and promise. He glances at the clock finally, and sighs.
“It’s late,” he murmurs, his voice crackling against the air in the car like a live wire. “You should go inside.”
She shifts in the passenger seat to look at him, a lazy punch drunk smile playing across her features. She looks as relaxed and happy as he’s ever seen her, and he’s loathe to break the spell, but they both work in the morning, and it’s only proper they both try to get some sleep.
She too sighs deeply and shifts around in her seat. “Okay. Walk me to the door?”
Doon Hoon feels her words like a shock, and even though he knows he’s playing with dangerous things, he merely nods and depresses the button to turn off the car. He gets out at the same time she does, and as she turns to grab her bag from the floorboards, he makes his way to her side.
She steps clear of the door, and he closes it for her before motioning her to lead the way across the street and up the small flight of stairs leading into her apartment complex. It’s a much shorter and sedate walk than the one to tiny flat she lived in before, but he appreciates knowing that she’s safer and better off than she had been.
They make it to her door in silence, arms just shy of brushing as they walk. Once they make it to the dimly light doorway, she stares intently at the keypad to the door, and he’s standing at her back, a half a step closer than he would have ever dared in the past. He’s not sure what to expect now; the rules they lived by before no longer apply, crumbling into dust when he made the confession of his imminent freedom.
He’s opening his mouth to bid her goodnight, when she turns. Whatever internal war she had with the keypad has turned her delicate face into a mask of resolve, and it briefly registers in the back of his brain that he’s seen this look on her face once before as she closes the distances and rises to her tiptoes, hands burying themselves in his hair.
Their lips meet, and for one second, Dong Hoon completely freezes, hands stuck at his sides as she again takes charge of their physical contact. Unlike the time before where his wits return in time to recoil, this time he steps forward, one hand drifting to her hip to draw her in closer and another behind her head to change the angle to one that allows him to meet her halfway.
She responds to his repositioning of her against him by biting down on his bottom lip, and he groans just briefly before responding in kind in his own desperate attempt to get even closer to her. He settles her more firmly against him, and it registers in the depth of his brain how small she is compared to him, but he focuses most of his energy on making her respond to his kiss.
It’s only when air becomes a problem that he breaks away, and he feels her moan of disappointment and the way her lips blindly try to follow his as he raises his head back to his normal height. After only a few moments, she tries to pull him back down, but he resists.
“Ji An.” His voice is rough and deeper than usual; he’s still fighting to get his breathing under control. “We should stop.”
His voice breaks her spell, and her eyes open as she falls back on her heels and takes in her surroundings. Her hands are resting on his shoulders, and he has one curled around her hip and the other resting between her shoulder blades. He does not need to look into the glass of the doors to know they both look less than put-together.
Her hands tighten on his shoulders, and he can sense she wants more. He’s frustrated with himself for wanting more, but so very aware that he’s not sure he will be able to maintain his self control much longer and there’s a thought that keeps holding him back as much as he might want.
“Ji An,” he says. Trying again to get her to understand, he draws the hand from her back to her cheek, forcing her to make eye contact. “I can’t do more than this now. Not yet. And if we don’t stop….”
He allows the implication of it all to be laid bare, it’s not that there isn’t want or need, it’s that it was only several hours ago that he spoke aloud to anyone that he was getting divorced, and despite all the painful things that led him there, he refuses to fall to the same lows as his soon to be ex-wife. Even if only the only witness to his crimes is the woman in his arms.
She nods once. “I understand.”
He feels a small grin spread across his face, and on impulse, he kisses her again, softly and sweetly. He draws back after what seems to be much too short of a time and cannot help but feel a deep swell of pride at the dazed look on Ji An’s face.
“Go on. It’s late.” Slowly dropping his hands from her petite frame. She pulls away equally reluctantly. Taking first one, then another step backwards to give him some space. Pausing a long moment to smile at him before turning to the keypad again.
He too moves back, now far enough away to be standing what most humans would consider a space just outside one’s personal bubble. He waits for her to type in the code, and he hears the door buzz open without every breaking his stare on the back of her head. She pushes open the door and turns back to look at him just one more time. “ Ajusshi?”
“Yes?”
“I know we will be happy now.” She darts one more longing glance in his direction before she disappears into the hall of her building, and he is left staring at the spot she once stood.
He returns to his car slowly, turning over the evening’s events in his mind. As he drives away, he thinks over both Jung Hee’s parting words from the prior evening and Ji An’s simple statement at her door and smiles softly. For maybe the very first time in his life, he thinks that he might just feel at peace.