become distant
"Hey, hey. Here we go."
“I have to take a picture right away.”
“…”
A full day had passed since the empty-eyed man sat guarding the funeral parlor. He was briefly distracted by a cigarette, when a swarm of reporters stormed in. He seemed powerless to resist the burst of shutter lights before his eyes, and he closed his eyes. Soon, the cries of the reporters brought him back to his senses.
“The deceased’s extreme choice,
“Have you always guessed?”
“What are your plans for the future?”
“Are there any circumstances that suggest murder?”
"Just say one word-"
He opened his mouth. Even the shutter sound died down. Everyone held their breath, all eyes turned to him.
Two months ago,
It was a day when white fluff fluttered outside the window. The snow, falling rapidly, grew heavier and heavier, turning the entire night white. I stared blankly at the snow outside the large window, wondering, with absurdity, how cold it must be.
Then you arrived. Ringing the doorbell, a welcome welcome. I watched you through the intercom for a long time. I saw you, your nose and chin flushed, a faint smile on your face. I saw you brushing the snowflakes off your head, blowing on your hands because it was so cold. Perhaps puzzled by my not opening the door right away, you rang the doorbell again. Only then did I run down the long hallway toward the front door.
“I missed you”
As soon as the door opened, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I flinched for a moment at the coldness of his hands against my pajamas. He lowered his head onto my shoulder. As expected, it was cold.
He squeezed through the front door, holding me in his arms. He waddled backwards like a duck. More than once, he slipped his feet into the indoor slippers placed by the front door. His scent, mixed with the chill, wafted into my nostrils. He sat me down on the sofa and went to the kitchen to pour me some water.
"How long has it been since we last met?"
"It's been about a month."
“Did you have a good trip?”
no
He said. He'd been working nonstop recently due to his filming schedule. It was the first time I'd seen him in a while, after a hectic month of overseas shoots. I couldn't help but be impressed that he came running to me as soon as he returned home.
I was sick
As soon as he finished speaking, I approached him and checked his condition. Fortunately, there was no fever on his forehead. There were no abnormal symptoms even when I checked with a thermometer.
“It’s okay now”
"really?"
“I guess it was body aches.”
A sigh of relief escaped me. Ever since I was little, you'd never been able to avoid winter colds. Even though you were now in your thirties, healthy and strong, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say you spent your childhood in the hospital, sick so often. Thanks to the friendship between your mothers, I was always by your side. It was my job to feed you, who struggled to even use a spoon, with a needle the size of my own hand stuck in the back of your hand.
Every time, you jokingly said you'd marry me. You were ten years old at the time. Every time I put a side dish on your rice, every time I sang a lullaby next to you when you were afraid of thunder, every time I put a strawberry candy in your hand when you hated hospital food. You kept proposing to me, a girl of the same age. You said you'd definitely marry me when I grew up.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I just… don’t think much of it.”
“Let me see Kang Do-ha’s face.”
Before I knew it, he had drained a glass of water and was next to me. He lay down on his knees, looking up at me. Looking closely, he was truly grown. One eye had a double eyelid, the other didn't. Sometimes, it seemed mischievous, but normally, it was infinitely deep. Aware of my gaze scanning his face, he crinkled his features and made a funny expression. A hollow laugh escaped his lips.
"You're so ugly"
"What are you thinking about?"
“…”
How can I possibly say this? Since the public learned of my relationship with you, I haven't been able to breathe properly. Every night, I get dozens of phone calls from unknown people. Every morning, when I open my front door, I find photos of myself with maliciously torn eyes strewn across the floor. Every time I go to sleep, I have recurring dreams of someone stabbing me to death. Even sleeping pills don't seem to help.
“Hug me”
“…”
"cold"
“…”
You noticed that I wouldn't answer even if you asked, so you looked at me. You were lying down.You got up and sat down next to me. As if you'd been waiting, you curled into my arms, trying to crawl into my arms. The sight of you making me laugh was so funny I couldn't help but chuckle. It felt like all the nightmares I'd had while you were gone were about to vanish.
.
The year we turned thirteen, you suffered from a particularly bad cold. Your body's inflammation levels were so high that you were hospitalized for nearly a month, and to make matters worse, you received bad news: your mother had passed away in a car accident. Because of her poor condition, the doctor recommended you remain in the hospital. Because of this, you were unable to be there for her in her final moments.
Your parents divorced before you could even walk. Your mother was left to fend for yourself, shouldering your medical bills. After her death, you became silent. You weren't a talker to begin with, but you were even more reluctant to speak. My family wasn't wealthy, either, so we couldn't afford to continue providing support. Were we simply prolonging our fragile lives with the empty promise of hope?
.
.
Your entry into the entertainment industry wasn't voluntary. You had no money, and you had to earn it. Luckily, you had striking looks, which paid off. You debuted in the film industry under the name Kim Tae-hyung the year you turned fifteen. As expected, the public's response was enthusiastic. Fifteen years have passed since then.
According to my mother, I was a model for clothing commercials when I was young—around four or five, though I don't even remember it now. She said she wanted me to continue, as it was quite profitable. However, my conservative father seems to have pushed me to focus on my studies.
I thought we'd drift apart, having gone our separate ways. I thought we'd never see each other again. But contrary to my worries, he never squandered our encounters. He waited for me every day in the alley on my way home from school, and contacted me morning and night to check in. Sometimes even video chatted. He seemed ready to propose, the proposal he'd always said as a child. If you and I really did... well, I actually thought it wouldn't be so bad.
“Are you okay?”
That's when my life began to unravel. When the world learned that actor Kim Tae-hyung, who had dabbled in film, drama, and advertising, had been dating a non-celebrity for a long time, he called me as soon as the news broke. "It's not like my identity was revealed anyway, so what's the big deal?" I tried to act calm, at least for the sake of your concern.
You didn't say anything then. The reporter broke the story, meaning he knew my face. That the public could discover my existence at any moment.I thought it would be hard for me.
Three days ago,
“You can’t contact me?”
Taehyung asked. Despite the manager's repeated attempts to call, Doha remained silent. He didn't answer. He clearly had no plans today and was staying home, but he couldn't reach him. Taehyung felt uneasy for some reason. In this situation, the live broadcast scheduled for 30 minutes later took a backseat. He tried to hide it, but his face showed it all.
"It won't work"
“What should I do?”
"I have to go"
“Are you kidding…?”
Taehyung stood up, his makeup still on. Sweat began to trickle down his manager's chin. If he were to leave, this would be a major accident. It would be difficult for the agency to handle. The atmosphere in the waiting room sank with his single statement that he was leaving. He must have been insisting on going despite his manager's pleas, even grabbing his coat, when the manager's default ringtone rang.
It was done.
“Hello, Dohaya.”
To the manager's surprise, Taehyung immediately picked it up. All his attention was focused on the sound coming from the other end of the phone. Everyone held their breath.
“Gangdoha. Answer me.”
“…Yeah, Taehyung.”
Taehyung, who had forgotten how to breathe, finally managed to catch his breath at Doha's slightly muffled voice. Only then did the entire staff sigh in relief, their hearts swaying.
“Why can’t I get through on the phone?”
“…some sleeping pills”
"huh"
“You must have eaten a lot.”
“…”
“The medicine isn’t working.”
“…”
“I just threw it in without thinking.”
“…”
“I didn’t notice because I was sleeping…”
Taehyung knew. Doha had been suffering from insomnia for years. But he couldn't do anything, so he could only watch from the sidelines. When Doha woke up from a nightmare, his job was to silently pat his back and hug him.
I also knew that Doha was suffering from extreme fans. I spoke to his agency several times, and the agency was doing everything in its power to protect the actor and his close associates. Despite this, the damage was often unavoidable. Taehyung didn't know the full extent of the damage Doha was suffering, and Doha didn't even bother to share it with him.
“Then I said it was dangerous.”
“…Yeah, I know.”
"What do you want to eat?"
"I want to eat a tangerine"
Taehyung felt a pang in his chest for some reason, and he was quick to change the subject. He felt like a casual conversation would make him feel a little better. With that, they agreed to talk later and hung up.
Taehyung didn't know that after that call, he would never hear Doha's voice again.
“How are you doing today?”
.
.
.
"Who's a flower and who's a person? It's difficult."
.
.
.
"If I propose to you now, will you accept?"
.
.
.
“Just tell me what you want to eat.”
.
.
.
"I was wrong, please forgive me just this once."
.
.
.
The murmur of reporters surrounding him made him feel suffocated. Taehyung had to be careful. He couldn't let the reporters tarnish Doha's reputation. He had to be careful, because every word he said would become their prey. Despite repeated deliberations in a short period of time, Taehyung couldn't reach a conclusion. The answer was already set in stone.
If I had told you earlier, would things have been different?
If that had happened, would I have lived?
"I'm retiring."
I need you to be by Doha's side. Stay healthy.
With those words, Taehyung left the room, and the waiting security guards herded the reporters outside. Silence fell upon the previously noisy funeral hall.
.