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He’s different and no one will change my mind on that. “Me, too.” And because he’s different, I decide to be honest—something I’ve not always been in the past with other guys I’ve dated. With other people, I’ve put on an act, pretended things were okay when they weren’t. I don’t feel the need here. Or maybe it’s that he’s always been so open with me that it feels right to give that same vulnerability in return. “I’m leaving in a week, you know. And, well, you are here and I will be in America.”
The curve of his lips softens and understanding lights in his eyes. “Yes, I know. It’s a long way between us.” He swings his finger in the space between us and takes one step closer. He reaches out and brushes a wisp of my hair over my shoulder. A small sound catches in my throat. “But while you’re here, we can enjoy each other’s company?” It’s softly stated, more of a declaration than a question.
His hand hovers over my shoulder, close enough that if I shift a tiny bit to the right, he could cup my cheek. I feel myself listing in his direction and catch myself at the last second before I fall into his hand.
“Yes. Yes, we can.” I’d agree to anything at this point. Drink a cup of poison with me? It’s delicious. Sure, fill my cup to the brim.
Yujun’s hand drops to his side but I don’t feel too sad about it, as the dimple makes a reappearance. “There are three ways up to the tower—cable car, bus, and your feet. Well, we could also take a taxi.”
I stare up at the thin cable wire and then down at my flimsy sandals. “I’d rather walk.” It can’t be all bad. Yujun has dress shoes on.
“It can be steep in places,” he warns.
“Walk. Definitely walk. I rode one of those cable cars at a fair and I spent the whole time with my sweaty palms curled around the safety bar, wondering if I’d survive if the line broke.”
A smile dances around the corners of Yujun’s lips. “And your conclusion?” he queries.
“In some places, yes, but with many broken bones. I don’t think there’s even one safe spot along this cable line.” The wire carrying the cable cars from the top of the mountain down to someplace on the street is barely visible.
“There is quite a bit of open space between the cable car and the ground,” Yujun concedes. “But it hasn’t failed yet.”
“Have you ridden it?”
“Oh yes, but not for years. I think I was fifteen?” He considers it for a moment. “Yes. Second grade—that’s second year of high school here,” he clarifies. “I came up here with hyung and a friend of ours. Our friend had moved here from Busan and he wanted to see what the city looked like.”
“Hyung?”
“Ah, have you forgotten our lessons already?” he teases. “Hyung is what I would call a male friend who is older than me. If Sangki-ah wasn’t my same-age friend, but older, I’d call him hyung.”
The conversation we had the other night about proper titles is starting to come back to me. “But I wouldn’t call him hyung, right? I would call him . . .” I’m not sure how to say Sangki’s name anymore after the talk with Jules. What was the respectful way to say another person’s name? “DJ Song?”
“Still against oppa?”
“I thought you said that I shouldn’t call anyone else oppa.”
Yujun’s lips quirk up at the corners. “That’s right.”
“Are you going to tell me what that means? I have this feeling it has some hidden definition.”
There’s a light sigh, as if Yujun doesn’t want to share, but he says, “All older males are called oppa. If Sangki-ah were your brother or you were very close with him, you’d call him oppa. But if you were to say it to someone you liked, you would use a different tone. We would know.
“I suppose you could call me sunbae. It means older, respected person usually in the same profession. If you were a lawyer, anyone who passed the bar before you would be called a sunbae, although if you weren’t close you would have to add nim, so sunbaenim. I am older than you and very respectable, yes?”
I’m starting to get it. “Yeah.”
Oppa. I try it out in my head, but the word doesn’t feel right. “Is it too American of me to call you Yujun?”
“No. Call me what you like.”
There’s something vaguely unsatisfactory about this, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. But I don’t want to dwell on it because as I told Yujun, I only have eight more days left in this city and with him. I concentrate on the smooth pavement under my feet and the soft, warm breeze in the air as we make the climb up toward the tower. Tall trees on either side of the wide road make this path feel private despite the occasional bus that barrels its way up the hill. The city seems far away from this canopy of green.
