Ever After

Him

Dreams always seemed like fragile things to Ri Jeong-hyeok.

Living where he lived, belonging to the family that he did, he had never felt like he should have dreams. And so he caged any dreams he had into a secret part of himself and hoped it was secret enough that even he would forget it.

His hyung Mu-hyeok had briefly gifted him with the chance to dream of a life of music instead of a life in the military, but that chance had crumbled into a nightmare with news of his brother's car crash.

Then, Jeong-hyeok learned that dreams could be worse than fragile – they could be dangerous. He papered over that secret place holding those dangerous dreams inside himself with practicality, routine, discipline, reason. Control.

Looking back now, Jeong-hyeok couldn't pin down the point in his life when those pesky dreams had sneaked up on him again. It could have been one mellow night in Seoul, sharing soju on a carpeted floor and dreaming of an impossible life. It could have been before that – that fateful moment in front of his military barrack when he had no other option but to lie that Yoon Seri was his betrothed.

Or maybe those were just small sparks. Maybe the actual point was when his father had handed him a military discharge certificate, along with an application form for the State Symphony Orchestra.

What he knew for certain was that he rediscovered that caged part of his heart again on the hills of First Flieger. Even when he fooled himself that he would be alright never setting eyes on Yoon Seri again, as long as he insured her safety, that hidden part of himself had hoped, waited, known.

Fragile, Jeong-hyeok reminded himself as he set foot inside her rental cottage. He had been a fool to act on emotion. He had to apologise, had to put a shield between himself and those dangerous dreams somehow. "I want to apologise... for... just now," he had said, instantly regretting the words as they came out of his mouth. "At the mountain. That was too forward of me."

Fragile, life reminded him, when he was pulled aside after the alumni cocktail party into an impromptu mentorship workshop. His mouth went dry and his heartrate shot up. He felt like he was back in a combat situation, trying to assess all possible exit strategies. He was sure someone would comment on how frequently he was checking the clock. He was sure his desperation would show in the tap of his foot, the clench of his fists. When he spotted Seo Dan through the door walking along the hallway, it took all the self-control he had to quietly excuse himself for a second and walk calmly after her. "Could you do me a small favour?" he had asked, already taking a pen from his pocket to scribble a letter out on the wall.

All throughout the following week, he felt that cage slowly creaking open again. He worked hard to reschedule certain appointments; called in favours; practised on the piano with increasing fervor. Still, he tried his best to focus on the present, instead of always looking towards the future.

"Ri Jeong-hyeok tongmu, should we try that phrase again but with a stronger finish? ...Ri Jeong-hyeok tongmu?" It was one of the celloists.

He startled, looking up from his music sheet. It was difficult to miss Seo Dan's knowing stare given that she was seated right next to the celloist in question. Good that it was only a casual practice session with a small group of orchestra members. "Sorry. Yes, let's try that."

"Where was your mind at? You're not normally so distracted."

"I was... dreaming."

Not fragile, he told himself. It's all under control.

---

He had made it a habit to patrol the hotel during his free time, lingering to read in the lobby and drinking countless cups of coffee in its various eateries. He hoped it wouldn't seem obvious that he was looking out for her.