The Season I Loved You Without You - Chapter 94

CHAPTER 94

Ga-eul was famous among the recruits. With striking visuals, a tall stature, and excellent training center scores, it was no wonder. Moreover, he was the only recruit assigned to the Prospecting Team, making him even more notable.

Ga-eul headed towards the assigned welfare center, unfazed by the surrounding stares. He listened to the instructions, helped the children with their meals, and watched over them as they played in the playground.

One child had been catching his eye for a while. He couldn’t eat well, and he didn’t mingle with the other kids. A small boy compared to his peers, he sat quietly with his head down in the flower bed.

Ga-eul looked around to see if there was a teacher available to help, but everyone seemed busy, so he cautiously approached him. He hesitated, unsure of what to say first.

“Um… hello?”

The boy looked up at Ga-eul. He knelt on one knee to meet his gaze.

“What’s your name?”

“Ahn Soo-young.”

“I’m Yoon Ga-eul.”

“…Is your name really Ga-eul?”

“Yep. Easy to remember, right?”

“What’s the point of remembering? We’ll only see each other today.”

“Still, it’s nice to be able to call each other by our names.”

Despite Ga-eul’s words, the boy remained sullen.

“Shall we go play on the slide with the other kids?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not a good kid, so I don’t deserve it.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Ga-eul looked at the boy who spoke so matter-of-factly about his misery.

“I was abandoned because I’m not good. I’m unhappy.”

While Ga-eul could have immediately said that wasn’t true, he felt it wasn’t his place to offer comfort so hastily. So, after some thought, he shared his own story.

“Well… when I was little, my mom passed away early, and then my dad died too. There were times I thought I was alone in the world, but as I lived, I found that wasn’t always the case.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I met people who loved me and had happy times. I parted ways with those I loved and met them again.”

“…So, are you happy now?”

“Yes. I’m happy to see that person again.”

“Can I be happy too? Really?”

“Really.”

Perhaps the small comfort worked, as the boy began to cry loudly. Ga-eul waited for him to finish crying and patted his back. He felt he should inform his teacher, so he led the somewhat calm boy to the teacher.

Even though he had only been with the boy for a short while, he felt drained of energy. Since the children had gone inside, Ga-eul followed suit. Unsure of where to go, he wandered inside the building and then stopped.

Standing by the sunlit hallway window was her. Though it was hard to believe she was there, the smile that only she could make confirmed it was Han Go-yeo, whom Yoon Ga-eul knew.

“…Go-yeo?”

He thought he had muttered it softly, but Go-yeo turned around. Ga-eul had to try hard not to move towards her. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails left marks on his palms.

Ga-eul noticed that her large eyes were trembling slightly. He felt he should say something, but the loud beating of his heart in his ears prevented him from speaking. He worried that his unchanged, clumsy self would be a burden to her and stiffened his expression.

He tried to distract himself by watching her long hair fluttering in the light breeze.

“…I see you’ve joined Wushin.”

Her red lips moved. Ga-eul worried she might find it strange that he joined Wushin.

It was true that he joined Wushin because of her, but he wasn’t confident enough to admit that openly. Now, his feelings for her felt a bit embarrassing. He feared that his continued love for her might seem like an unreasonable obsession.

Despite his chaotic thoughts, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The spell was broken by Su-jin.

“Were you in the middle of a conversation? Do you know each other? Who is this?”

Ga-eul snapped back to reality at Su-jin’s voice. Su-jin’s familiar demeanor was burdensome, and her expression was indifferent.

When Su-jin asked if they knew each other, Ga-eul remembered a term others used to describe their relationship. She realized that despite all the time that had passed, he hadn’t improved at all. Ga-eul was just an insignificant rookie, while Han Go-yeo was still someone he couldn’t even dare to look up to.

“Take care. I’ll be off then.”

Before he could say anything more, she turned away. Ga-eul saw her rounded shoulders and white nape. He wanted to reach out and stop her, but he clenched his hands behind his back instead. Ga-eul was well aware of his insignificance. He didn’t want her to be treated like that again.

On his way home, he habitually bought some alcohol. Leaning against the rooftop railing, he drank beer while looking at the night view. He glanced at the plant pots beside him. Two red Congo plants had grown to knee height. One that had seemed about to die had survived thanks to his meticulous care. He flicked a leaf, making the plant shiver slightly.

“I saw Go-yeo today. It’s been a while since you saw her, right? But she probably forgot all about you and me… Don’t feel bad. Don’t be sad.”

Ga-eul muttered to himself, downing the rest of his beer.

“But I am sad. So sad. I love Han Go-yeo so much it hurts…”

Ga-eul laughed bitterly at his pitiful state. He stared blankly at the twinkling lights, then took a deep breath of the cold, fresh air. As the evening grew cooler, he brought the two plants back inside.

* * *

Ga-eul found out that Go-yeo had been appointed as the new executive director of the Wushin Foundation.

“She said she hated working…”

Han Go-yeo was no longer the person who had smiled at Yoon Ga-eul three years ago. Ga-eul often thought of her when she saw him at work. She used to tell Ga-eul how cute the tiny mole at the end of his right eyebrow was, something Ga-eul hadn’t even noticed himself. He habitually touched that spot.

From the morning, Ga-eul felt heavy and heat radiating from his neck. His head grew heavier, and he felt his fever rising, but he endured the long meetings until late. While waiting for the subway to go home, Ga-eul turned on his heel.

They say when you’re sick, your heart weakens, and it seemed he was instinctively seeking a place where his heart felt at ease. He hummed as he climbed the hill, singing nonsensical songs, drunk with fever. He felt so warm that he took off his tie and jacket.

Yoon Ga-eul, who always wore sneakers, now walked quite well even in uncomfortable shoes. He let his morning hair fall loose and enjoyed the breeze usually only felt in the mountains.

He smiled faintly at the unusually clear sky. Countless stars seemed ready to spill out. Then he noticed someone standing at the boundary between the sky and the hill. He stopped abruptly, feeling as if he was facing an illusion surrounded by a halo of light.

Ga-eul, weakened by his condition, bent over and laughed helplessly.

“Don’t do this.”

He murmured, shaking his head. It seemed his condition was worse than he thought. The illusion slowly turned around, and he realized it wasn’t just his imagination.

A cold breeze blew, and her long hair fluttered just as it had one day. Ga-eul watched, mesmerized, as she tucked her hair behind one ear.

“This can’t be happening.”

Ga-eul cautiously approached, afraid she might disappear if he touched her. When he reached a distance where he could touch her, he realized he had been holding his breath. Taking a shallow breath, he looked at the woman he still deeply loved.

“This is a lie…”

Ga-eul kept telling himself this couldn’t be real. He reached out to touch her cheek. Go-yeo was crying, and the warmth of her pale cheek confirmed her existence.

“……”

Go-yeo felt the large hand cradling her cheek and slowly grasped it. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry because of Yoon Ga-eul anymore, but seeing him again made the tears well up. Just as he had wiped her tears, she now wiped the tears streaming down his cheeks. As Ga-eul blinked, tears fell one after another. Go-yeo quietly embraced him, realizing for the first time that she had approached him first today. She soaked his shirt with her tears.

Ga-eul held Go-yeo tightly.

“…I missed you so much.”

Hearing his murmured words in her ear, Go-yeo began to sob again.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream. Please.”

“…It’s not.”

In Ga-eul’s tight embrace, Go-yeo realized that the season she thought would never return had come back. She had met Ga-eul in the winter, spring, and summer, but this was the first autumn she would face with Yoon Ga-eul.

Ga-eul met Go-yeo’s gaze, taking in her red-rimmed eyes, the small mole below her eye, her pretty nose, and her red lips. It was as if he was committing every detail to memory, determined never to forget.

Go-yeo looked into Ga-eul’s eyes, which were searching her face.

“Yoon Ga-eul, I love you.”

It was one of the countless confessions that the stars must have witnessed.

Ga-eul smiled through his tears and kissed Go-yeo’s lips. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Even in his dreams, Han Go-yeo had never easily allowed Yoon Ga-eul to approach her. If it was a dream, he hoped it would never end.

It was warm, and it tasted of tears.