They stay like that for a while.
Hand over hand. The afternoon light moving. Neither of them talking.
And then Seo Hwigeon suddenly laughs.
It's not a good laugh. It's short and rough and it comes out of him the way things come out of people when they've been holding something too long and something finally gives — not because anything is funny but because the alternative is worse.
Yeon Yujun doesn't move. Doesn't pull back. Just stays where he is.
"Sorry," Seo Hwigeon says.
"Don't be."
"I'm not usually..." He stops.
Yeon Yujun waits for him.
Seo Hwigeon looks at the table. At their hands. At the jacket sitting there between them that neither of them is thinking about anymore.
"I've been doing this for a very long time," he says. "And I've gotten good at... at not letting it show. How much of it there is. Because if I let it show it becomes real and if it becomes real–" He stops again. His jaw tightens. "It gets in the way."
"Of what?"
"Of trying again..."
