Traces and Storms

vii

   Myungsoo was in our usual spot, laptop open and his camera resting on the table. He looked up, and smiled. "Yo."

"Hey," I returned, sitting on the couch across him. I began to take my things out. "Why'd you call me out here?"

"I wanted to see you. Simple as."

I paused to look at him. "Myungsoo, what are you on about?"

"Don't look into it too much," he said. "We're friends, aren't we? And we have this portfolio to finish."

"I know that," I switched my laptop on, and waited for it to start up. "But you sound so..."

"Affectionate?" he finished off.

"Flirtatious," I corrected, in an attempt to hide the fact that what he suggested was actually right.

"Well, I'll be damned," he remarked, one eyebrow raised in mock disbelief.

I didn't reply, and he only smiled to himself while watching me tinker with my laptop. I sighed, and asked, "What?"

"Thank you," he said.

I cocked my head.

"For the silence. It means a lot to me. You're doing me a huge favor here."

"It's not that difficult to do. You're all right."

He chuckled. "Of course."

We carried on in silence for a while, with him going to and from the counter, fetching us drinks and snacks. A cup of coffee. Or iced latte. Blueberry muffins. Chocolate cakes.

"I almost always eat here for free," I pointed out. "I should at least pay."

"Stop cheapening our friendship," Myungsoo said. "And this is what my parents would do, too. It's nothing big, really."

I wanted to respond, but failed to search for the right words, and so all I asked afterwards was, "Is Sungyeol not working today?"

"He'll come around at five," he answered. "Don't miss him too much. I'll get jealous."

"Misleading words," I remarked.

"Untrusting heart," he returned.

I shook my head in sheer hopelessness, and finally began to focus on editing the photos I recently took. The clacking of our keyboards went against the faint background music playing. Most of the songs were instrumentals from animated films, giving me the idea it was Myungsoo who owned the playlist.

"You don't feel lonely at home?" Myungsoo asked, breaking the silence. His eyes were still focused on his monitor.

"I'm used to it."

"I'm asking if you're lonely. Not if you're used to it or not."

"It's always silent in there. And empty. Like a dollhouse."

"But are you lonely?"

I glanced at him. "Do you know what's so unfair about you? You press for the specific response, but you never reveal things in a straightforward manner."

"How is that unfair?"

"You want people to open up to you, but you refuse to show your vulnerable side to them."

"Do you think it's a transact—"

"Don't give me that again," I cut in. "So, who has the untrusting heart now?"

-::-

"Those photographs won't change, no matter how many times you look at them," Myungsoo stood beside me, and we both stared at his wall for a moment. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets. I was left there, tracing the gaze of his brown eyes.