Woo Tak spends the next day jittery and unable to focus on his studies, trying to keep his expectations realistic. It’s tempting to connect the dots between the dream and the phone call, and conclude that Jae Chan has asked him on a date with Hong Joo. But that might be wishful thinking. No one he knows talks kindly about men being gay or bi, no one even acknowledges the possibility. The fact that he honed his English skills on Queer as Folk and, more recently, Sense8 is an anomaly.

(Sometimes being an anomaly is the loneliest thing in the world.)

So it’s equally likely he misinterpreted the dream. Equally likely Jae Chan, that fine upstanding son of Korea, was talking about some other kind of like.

And Hong Joo and her mother, Jae Chan and his younger brother—they’re the only family Woo Tak’s had in a long time. Losing them would be the greatest tragedy he can imagine for himself. But he’s been hiding his feelings ever since Hong Joo chose Jae Chan and vice versa, and now that there’s a chance he mightn’t have to anymore, those feelings are jostling to be acknowledged, to be free. He thinks even if he is wrong, tonight he’ll come out to his friends.

Even if he’s wrong, Hong Joo will forgive him. She was the one who welcomed him in at the start.

Even if he’s wrong, Jae Chan—

With Jae Chan, who can say? A dream could show him, but he doesn’t dream today.

 

*

 

He arrives on time with beer and ripe pears—little enough to go unremarked upon, but if this is a date, he doesn’t want to show up empty-handed. He’s freshly shaven, wearing a white button-down shirt and jeans. He knows he looks good—he just doesn’t know if it matters.

Before he rings the doorbell, he blows out a long breath. He’ll just follow their lead. He presses the bell.

There’s a delay before Jae Chan answers, and he sounds flustered. “You’re here?”

The gate buzzes open. Woo Tak goes in, and the sight of Jae Chan standing in the middle of the living room, tall and handsome in a pale t-shirt, with his hair dishevelled and a dish towel clamped in his hands, stops Woo Tak in his tracks. His skin prickles. He lips feel dry.

Then he sees a dark stain spreading on the dish towel and surges forward to grab it and Jae Chan’s hands. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a scratch.” Jae Chan backs away, tries to hide it behind his back, seeming more embarrassed than hurt, but Woo Tak grabs his wrist and peels back the gleaming wad of cloth.

In fact, it’s a cut across the base of his first finger, not deep but quite long. Woo Tak herds him onto a stool at the breakfast bar, finds a clean corner of the dish towel and presses it to the cut to staunch the blood. “Hold this. Stay here.”

“You’re making a fuss about nothing.”

Woo Tak ignores the complaint and searches the bathroom fruitlessly for a first aid kit, then gives up and asks, and retrieves the kit from under the kitchen sink. A half-chopped onion sits in graceless chunks on a chopping board on the kitchen counter, a bloodied knife beside it. That answers that.

“You should be more careful. What will Hong Joo say when she sees all this blood?” Woo Tak puts the cloth aside and sets Jae Chan’s hand on the breakfast bar. It’s mostly stopped bleeding. He cleans the skin and smears on some antiseptic cream.

Jae Chan tenses.

“Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“Hang in there.” Woo Tak bends over the wound and fixes a band aid in place, concentrating on the task so he won’t think about his fingers on Jae Chan’s warm skin, the intimacy of it, and how quiet and still Jae Chan has grown. He gives the plaster a final, unnecessary pat and starts packing everything back into the first aid kit.

“Woo Tak.”

“Mm?”

Jae Chan leans back against the breakfast bar, one elbow propped on the edge, his body draped in a way that is clearly supposed to seem casual. “We haven’t seen you in a while. You haven’t by any chance met someone at—” His elbow slips, throwing him off balance and nearly landing him on the floor.

Woo Tak grabs him to steady him. “What is with you today?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Jae Chan draws himself up and retreats back to the kitchen like a cat trying to recover its dignity.

Then Hong Joo arrives and immediately spots the first aid kit and stained towel. Her eyes widen and she looks between the two of them. “What happened? Who’s hurt?”

Jae Chan holds up his injured hand. “Look, it’s nothing.”

“Did your tremor come back?” She frowns. “Is that why you hurt yourself?”

No one told Woo Tak anything about a tremor. “What tremor?”

“From last year, after—”

“No, no, I was just cooking, and I got distracted,” says Jae Chan hastily, speaking over her.

“Well, if you weren’t shot or stabbed, I’m relieved.” She visibly relaxes and takes his hand to inspect the plaster. “Did you clean it properly?”

“Woo Tak did.”

She throws Woo Tak a grateful smile, and tells Jae Chan mildly, “I said we should order in.” She’s still holding his hand as she takes out her phone to call for delivery.

“It’s okay. I’ll cook,” says Woo Tak. “I’m happy to.” It’s enough to be here with them. He goes into the kitchen and surveys the ingredients on the counter. “Is Seung Won out tonight?”

“He’s having dinner with So Yoon and her mother,” Hong Joo answers for both of them.

“Just the three of us then.” Woo Tak gives her the best smile he can muster and turns his attention to cooking before he starts to fixate on the sight of them still holding hands. They’re his friends, and they’re a couple. This is not new.

Hong Joo finds the beer he brought and pounces on it, and she and Jae Chan sit at the breakfast bar, drinking and talking while Woo Tak makes japchae because it’s easy and he’s too distracted to try anything complicated. After a while of mixing the vegetables and noodles, being with them feels normal again, the usual background ache easy to ignore, yesterday’s dream just a dream.

Still it’s safer not to drink while his emotions are tangled and the undercurrents hard to read, so he only has a mouthful or two of beer for appearances’ sake, while they’re eating. Hong Joo, on the other hand, finishes her third with a satisfied sigh. “I want to go to the beach.”

This seems like a cue for them to start making plans for the weekend without him, but they both look at him expectantly.

“Did you bring your car?” asks Jae Chan.

Woo Tak did. “You want to go now?”

“Will you be all right?” Jae Chan tilts his head at Woo Tak’s beer can.

It’s already late. Driving all night to the sea on the spur of the moment is something teenagers do—or lovers. And apparently something Hong Joo does when she’s in a whimsical mood. Woo Tak lets himself be swept up in her plan, standing by bemused while she and Jae Chan assemble an array of sweaters and blankets, snacks and thermoses full of hot coffee.

It’s almost an hour before they carry their supplies out to the car and set off, Hong Joo in the passenger seat, twisted sideways to talk to Jae Chan in the back and Woo Tak behind the wheel.

They head east because Hong Joo wants to see the sun rise. She fiddles with the radio and finds an old song Woo Tak remembers from his childhood, and they reminiscence about growing up, Woo Tak putting a polite gloss on his past so as not to ruin the mood. His decision to come out tonight feels distant and ill-advised, especially when he can’t give them his full attention to gauge their reactions. There will be other opportunities.

Somewhere in Gangwon, Woo Tak catches Jae Chan watching him in the rear view mirror, and awareness rushes back in, somehow filling the car. The steering wheel bites into his palms.

Hong Joo fills the silence, telling them in detail about the story she’s working on, a businessman who’s been bribing local politicians. Jae Chan asks prosecutorial questions, and the car tyres eat up the miles.

 

*

 

By the time they get to the coast, the sky is starting to lighten. They leave the bags of provisions and extra clothes in the trunk and stumble out, dazed from lack of sleep, onto the empty beach. Hong Joo and Jae Chan kick off their shoes and run to the water’s edge like children, chasing each other and laughing.

Woo Tak hangs back, feeling on the outside, even though he knows it’s his own doing. He could run with them and be welcomed. But he’s tired. He follows slowly, his feet sinking into the sand, and the others exchange a few words, lost in the sound of the waves, and come up the beach to meet him as the first rays of sun spill across the horizon.

They stop a few paces away, and Jae Chan folds his arms. “Han Woo Tak, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

Woo Tak breathes a laugh and answers in the same formal vein. “I solemnly affirm that the evidence given by me shall be nothing but the truth.”

The sea rushes up the beach towards them, then falls away.

Jae Chan begins his cross-examination. “Have you met anyone at law school—anyone you like?”

Woo Tak doesn’t know what they want from him, what they want to hear. But he’s under oath, so he tells the truth. “They’re all children.”

Hong Joo opens but doesn’t say anything, leaving the questions to Jae Chan.

“Do you want to meet someone?”

“No.” He knows he should. He should want to give up on these two and find someone new to love. But he can’t imagine anyone as special as them, and how could he settle for less?

“Give me your phone,” says Hong Joo.

The lock screen is still the photo of their shadows from the bus stop, but he hands it over, safe in the knowledge she won’t recognise herself. She asks for his PIN, and he tells her. He has nothing there to hide.

Jae Chan is regarding him intensely, his pre-dinner awkwardness completely forgotten. “Why not? Why don’t you want to meet someone?”

“Should I?” Woo Tak can’t control his expression, but he keeps his tone even. If his being single is a problem for them—No, even then, it wouldn’t be fair on the hypothetical fourth person. “I’m satisfied with my life as it is.”

“Really? Remember you swore to tell the truth.”

Woo Tak swallows. This isn’t fair. “If you and Hong Joo are happy, I’m satisfied with the way things are.”

It’s the closest he can come to confessing his feelings. It feels like stepping off a cliff.

Hong Joo hands him back his phone. “Did you know a person can be happy and filled with longing at the same time?” Her face is bright in the sunrise, and she puts her hand on his sleeve, squeezes his arm. “Woo Tak, I’m glad you’re working hard at law school, but I miss you. You don’t spend enough time with us anymore.”

“I thought you’d want to be alone together.” He looks at his phone, his old lock screen replaced with a new photo: three long shadows stretching together across the sand. He blinks at it, and drops the formalities: “How long have you known?”

“We didn’t know,” says Jae Chan, also casual. Intimate. “We hoped.”

“It might be a mistake.” Woo Tak can’t take his eyes off the photo. He doesn’t want them to risk their relationship for him—that’s at once a lie and the truth.

Hong Joo takes his hand and squeezes it. “It might be amazing.” She’s holding Jae Chan’s hand too, linked to both of them, and she goes up on tiptoe to kiss Jae Chan’s mouth, then turns to Woo Tak, her eyes warm with affection and trust. “I think it’s meant to be this way. This is why the dreams brought us together in the first place.”

And she kisses him too. Her lips are warm and soft against his. Jae Chan doesn’t stop them or say a word. It’s impossible and intoxicating, and Woo Tak can barely breathe, love catching in his chest like a flame.

When she pulls away, her eyes are shining, her smile luminous, and he answers it helplessly.

Jae Chan clears his throat, and Woo Tak’s stomach drops like a stone. “I—” But he can’t bring himself to apologise.

Jae Chan’s face is a cypher. He grips Hong Joo’s hand and doesn’t move.

“Ask me,” says Woo Tak. “I’m still under oath. Ask me.”

“Do you like men as well as women?”

“Yes.” It’s his first time saying it aloud. “Yes. That is, one man and one woman, especially. What about you?”

Jae Chan’s mouth twitches. “I—I mean, I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I should be satisfied, I keep wanting more.”

“Me too,” says Hong Joo.

“Me too,” echoes Woo Tak, nervous and hopeful, his lips still tingling, his whole body electric. Still holding Hong Joo’s hand, he steps into Jae Chan’s personal space.

Jae Chan grips his shoulder. “Don’t regret this.”

“It’s me who should be saying that,” Woo Tak starts to reply, but Jae Chan is already kissing him, careful and brief, shaking the foundations of his world.

Woo Tak follows his retreat helplessly and kisses him again, dazed by the slight scratch of Jae Chan’s skin, a breathy gasp from Hong Joo, a sound that is either the crash of waves or his own heart thundering.

Jae Chan’s hand slides down his arm, and as the kiss ends, he tangles their fingers, the edge of the plaster catching lightly on Woo Tak’s palm, making him shiver.

The three of them stand in a ring, all holding hands and grinning, as the sun spreads its rays across the sky.

“I hope to God this isn’t just a dream,” mutters Woo Tak.

Jae Chan is flushed, but he laughs. “Even if it is, it doesn’t matter.”

Hong Joo nuzzles Woo Tak’s shoulder, her slim body leaning against his arm. Jae Chan gazes proprietorially at both of them. Something twists in Woo Tak’s stomach, visceral and joyous.

“He’s right,” says Hong Joo. “Our dreams always come true.”

 

End