Into The Thrill

It wasn’t necessary to play an expensive instrument to be a good performer. There were cases of winning prestigious international competitions with a 3 million won domestic instrument. It was like a clumsy carpenter blaming his tools; no matter how expensive the instrument, the skill and expression of the person playing it were what mattered. Even Picasso could draw with just a pencil. But if Picasso had a 360-color pencil set, the world he could express would be limitless.

After practice, the concert hall, which had been bustling with people gathering to watch Henry Chang, returned to its usual silence. Even the soft footfalls echoed loudly. Haewon, not wanting to be around people, always left the practice room last. As he was finishing cleaning up and gathering his sheet music, he felt a vibration. Haewon rummaged through his bag beneath his feet and pulled out his phone.
"Hello?"
― Finished with practice?

"Just now."
― When were you going to tell me about tomorrow’s performance?
"I wasn’t planning on telling you."

Haewon felt a little uncomfortable when he realized Hyeon Woojin already knew and spoke curtly.
― Are you not coming?
"Don’t come."

― How could I not? I can’t miss such a rare opportunity to see a violinist who doesn’t want to perform in front of people.
"I don’t care if you come or not. I’ll be at the very back, so you won’t even be able to see me."
Haewon’s spot was at the very last position of the second violin section, where the lights didn’t reach, and it was hard to tell if someone was even there. It wasn’t that Haewon didn’t want him to come, but it was just another regular performance. It was an ordinary thing. But when he said he was coming, Haewon’s heart raced for some reason, and he became overly concerned that his position at the back would be too noticeable.

He should’ve just asked to move one seat forward.
― I’ll come pick you up. Let’s have dinner.
"I’ll go. Don’t come."

― Then, how about after the performance tomorrow?
"Do whatever you want."
― Doesn’t it feel like your tone changes when it’s not in bed? Do you want me to call when we’re in bed?

He hadn’t called for several days and hadn’t visited either. He was too busy to be in a relationship. People like him shouldn’t be seeing anyone.
"Don’t ask things like that. I don’t care either way."
― You’re making me ask because you don’t do anything. You’re the one who can’t call me because your finger’s broken.
"How could someone with a broken finger play the violin?"

― Oh, right. So, does this mean you’ve never called me first with your perfectly fine fingers?
"I’m busy."
― Busy? Who’s busy? Me? Or you?

"You."
― Don’t say 'you.' There are so many other ways to say it.
"Hyeon Woojin."

― How do you know whether I’m busy or not?
"You’re busy. It’s already been over a week..."
― Didn’t hear that. What’s so important about a week?

"Hang up. I need to go."
Before he could say anything, Haewon hung up the phone. Hyeon Woojin called again, but Haewon didn’t answer. After about three calls, they stopped. No texts came either. He was pouting because he couldn’t see him. Haewon cringed at what he had done.
He took a taxi to the officetel. Since practice had run late, it was already past nine when he arrived at the officetel.

Haewon bought a hamburger and fries set at a nearby burger shop. He wasn’t great at cooking. These days, he couldn’t even be bothered to cook rice, so when he was hungry, he either ate instant food /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ or ordered takeout, or he substituted meals with something easy like dumplings, kimbap, or hamburgers. If he felt bad about his eating habits, he’d go to a fancy restaurant to eat expensive food and feel better. He maintained his dietary balance only to that extent.
Still in the mood from his earlier practice with Henry Chang, Haewon immediately looked for the accompaniment version of Brahms’ violin concerto CD when he got home. He played it on the stereo system, and the orchestra’s accompaniment filled the speakers placed around the officetel.
Haewon practiced the solo parts, remembering the conductor’s notes he had marked on the sheet music. As he was turning the pages while playing the last part of the first movement, he accidentally knocked the music stand with his bow in his excitement. The stand toppled over. Haewon stopped playing. He sighed and started picking up the scattered sheet music from the floor. He turned his head absentmindedly and froze.

"…Ah."
Startled, he let out a small "ah" and looked at Hyeon Woojin. He had no idea when he arrived, but there he was, sitting at the dining table, pulling out a chair. It was the best spot to hear the music. Without a word, he had deliberately chosen a place where Haewon couldn’t see him and had quietly sat down, as if admiring him.
Haewon turned off the audio, and everything around them fell silent.

"You should’ve answered your phone. I was going to say I was coming."
"If you came, make some noise."
"Then you wouldn’t play. I enjoy listening to your performance. Watching your focused face is quite fun."

Haewon had wanted to finish the piece, but Hyeon Woojin’s sudden appearance threw his plans off.
"Is this tomorrow’s piece?"
"Henry Chang is playing it. Not me."

"Ah, I see. I guess you liked his performance."
"He was good."
Haewon replied to his comment while packing the sheet music into his bag. He then unwrapped the hamburger packaging on the table.

"I’m having dinner."
"Eat something proper, not that junk."
"It’s not junk. It’s a Whopper."

"It’s junk."
Ignoring his words, Haewon opened his mouth to take a bite of the hamburger, only to have it taken from him by Hyeon Woojin.
"Give it back. I’m hungry."

"Let’s go out. I’ll buy you dinner."
"I’m hungry right now."
"I’ll buy it right now."

He threw the hamburger wrapper into the trash can. Haewon was about to eat the fries but saw them go into the trash too. Haewon glared at him.
"Change quickly."
As Haewon stood still and protested, he brought him a coat. Haewon, dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants, put his arms into the coat as Hyeon Woojin draped it over his shoulders. Reluctantly, Haewon followed him out of the officetel. They got into his car parked in the lot.

"So, why aren’t you driving? Is there some kind of jinx? Does driving mess up your performance or twist your finger joints?"
"I don’t have a license."
He chuckled.

"Everything looks fine on the outside, but the inside’s useless. Get your license soon. Riding in a taxi with an instrument like that is a crime waiting to happen."
"Are all taxi drivers criminals? Are you making fun of public servants?"
"Who says that?"

With a look that suggested he might know a taxi driver, Hyeon Woojin glanced at Haewon.
"I don’t drive."
"Get your license. Drive a car. Don’t take a taxi late at night."

"I don’t have money to buy a car. I’ll save every penny from the orchestra’s salary."
"I’ll buy it for you."
"......"

Haewon turned his head to look at him, surprised by his unexpected offer.
"Oh, so you're the type to accept expensive things but refuse anything too extravagant?"
"How could I afford that on my salary?"

"I’ll spend all my savings to buy it for you."
"Are you extorting money from a chaebol? Taking backdoor money? Doing stuff like that? What, are you some sort of sponsor inspector?"
As he turned the steering wheel and looked straight ahead, his lips curled into a slight smile. It seemed like that was the case. If so, his prey must be Kim Jeong-geun, the CEO of the HanKyeong Group. Suddenly, Haewon became curious about the relationship between Kim Jeong-geun and him. It was Hyeon Woojin who had invited Haewon to his villa to listen to a private performance. Hyeon Woojin had used that villa as if it were his own.

"Are you close with President Kim Jeong-geun?"
"Not close, but I know him personally."
"Knowing someone personally means you're close."

"Then we're close too, right? I think I know Mr. Mun Haewon quite well. I even know what you've been up to."
He was deflecting. Haewon knew what had ultimately happened to Hyun Woo-jin's fiancée but chose not to show it. He didn't want to know too much about him. Knowing too much makes it hard to break off the relationship. They weren't close enough to ask overly personal and private questions.
The car sped through the now quiet downtown, past rush hour. They arrived at a hotel. After valet parking, they got out of the car. Though covered by a coat, Haewon was dressed in pajamas, which wouldn't have been odd for going to bed. He had no intention of becoming a spectacle at a fancy restaurant. He followed Hyun Woo-jin but then stopped.

"I'm not going in like this."
"No one will care."
"They will if they see this."

Haewon shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets and stretched out his arms wide. His eyes troubled, Hyun Woo-jin glanced at Haewon's pajama pants and then averted his gaze as if it didn't matter.
"Should we get a room then?"
"Ah, so it starts with stripping?"

Expectantly looking at him, Hyun Woo-jin frowned as if saying not to jump the gun.
"I'll order room service."
"If it's worse than a Whopper, you're dead."

Hyun Woo-jin booked a room. They entered the elevator as if they were strangers and went to the room. It was a decent enough grand room for spending the night.
Hyun Woo-jin inserted the key into the holder and immediately drew the curtains to block the view from outside. It seemed more like a habit than a purposeful action.
"Order whatever you want."

"Just for me?"
"For me too. I haven't had dinner yet."
"Anything?"

"Order whatever you want. I'll make a call and be back."
Hyun Woo-jin took a spare key and left. Haewon ordered from the room service menu—Cobb salad, crab fried rice, lamb chops, and for dessert, crème brûlée and fruit. Room service arrived before Hyun Woo-jin returned.
He took off his jacket, placed it on the sofa, and unbuttoned his sleeves. After rolling them up and washing his hands, he opened the door for room service. The ordered food was set on the table in front of the sofa. It was the first time they sat face to face for a meal. He sat down next to Haewon, straight from the office, and picked up a fork.

"Is this all you ordered? Order more."
"This is enough for me, but order more if you want."
He started eating first, his plate quickly emptying. After eating his share, he checked the dessert but didn’t eat it. Hyun Woo-jin asked as Haewon leisurely cut his lamb.

"Is that how a hungry person eats?"
"You eat too fast."
It seemed Hyun Woo-jin had gotten used to eating quickly due to his busy schedule. He sipped coffee while lounging back on the sofa, watching Haewon eat his dinner. Chewing slowly, Haewon looked up as Hyun Woo-jin spoke.

"Don't call me 'you.' Try using a different title."
"A different title? Prosecutor? Civil servant?"
"Something less formal."

"Like what?"
"Call me 'bro' or, well, 'bro.' If you don't like that, 'bro' works."
He offered the same three choices, all essentially the same.

Where had Taeshin stood with him?
He probably hadn’t called him 'bro.' He always referred to him as 'that person.' Probably they called each other Mr. So-and-so.
It was just a trivial thing. There was no reason not to do it. Lee Jin-young also called him 'bro.' Haewon flicked his lips as if to say it but then stopped. Suddenly, he felt disgusted.

"Yes, elder."
Hyun Woo-jin burst into laughter. A deep, rich sound reminiscent of a Guarneri violin. Hyun Woo-jin was softer, more cheerful, and kinder than Haewon thought. Busy as he was, he had a caring side, contrary to his sharp and daunting image, though that was only a small part of him. He seemed like someone anyone could covet and like, not frivolous, but with a substantial presence, effectively manipulative.
"Is that supposed to be funny?"

The laughter soon faded, and his face grew serious again. Haewon ignored him and continued his meal.
After clearing the nearly finished dishes from the table and standing up, Hyun Woo-jin grabbed Haewon’s wrist and pulled him back down next to him. He placed Haewon’s hand on his thigh and stared at it as if appraising a rare item.
"It looks ordinary and uninteresting."

It didn’t seem to be a comment about his own hand. Holding onto Haewon’s wrist, Hyun Woo-jin looked up. Their eyes met, puzzled.
"Strip first, elder. I don't mind."
"That's the problem. Not minding."

"Not today then. I have a performance tomorrow. Need to go in early to sleep."
"Sleep here. I’ll take you in the morning."
"With you? In bed? Without doing anything?"

"We'll just kiss. Nothing else unless you want to. I’m always prepared."
He pulled Haewon up by the hand. Observing closely, Hyun Woo-jin seemed particularly fixated on his hands. He was the first to ask why Haewon wasn’t wearing gloves.
Haewon quickly washed up and returned from the bathroom. Hyun Woo-jin was already lying on the bed, hands behind his head.

He glanced at Haewon and then patted the space next to him. Who would cling first was something to be seen. There was no reason to refuse, and Haewon had been particularly skilled in that regard since his teens.
Without hesitation, Haewon lay next to him. He dimmed the lights. The dimness didn't obscure visibility too much; his face was still distinctly visible against the shadowy backdrop. Leaning comfortably against the pillow, Haewon turned towards him, who lay alone beside him.
There’s no next life, they’d miss each other even if reincarnated.

This life is the last...
Hyun Woo-jin, not understanding the confession, dismissed it lightly. He’d say anything just to take off a piece of clothing.
Haewon merely looked at him, and Hyun Woo-jin whispered softly.

"Acting like a college student makes me feel younger."
"Does it rejuvenate you?"
"Not to that extent, but it’s been a long time since I've felt this way."

"Just kissing, right? Nothing else?"
"If you want more, just set the conditions. Mun Haewon has developed some principles."
"You need to try harder, elder. I'm not feeling it."

He frowned in displeasure. His hand touched Haewon’s cheek. Haewon also raised his hand to touch Hyun Woo-jin’s cheek. Obsessed with Haewon’s hands, Hyun Woo-jin reacted sensitively to his touch. Haewon’s hand seemed to particularly stimulate his nerves.
As he caressed his face, Hyun Woo-jin overlapped their hands and brought them to his lips. His lips, damp with moisture, pressed against the palm. Pressing firmly, he kissed Haewon’s hand. It was a cautious, almost reverent gesture. Haewon’s heart raced.