By the time Jiheon arrived in the parking lot, Jaekyung was leaning against the car, staring at his phone.
“Do you have something against Korea Aquatics?” Jiheon said with a slight smile.
It wasn’t a laughing matter, but the sight of the vice president going googly-eyed over Jaekyung’s rude exit made it impossible not to laugh.
“You can’t just walk out like that. Or are you planning never to see them again?”
Jiheon said as he pressed a button on his car fob, unlocking the car. Jaekyung opened the passenger-side door and said glumly.
“Well, after this year, I won’t.”
“But they’ve been helping you all this time,” Jiheon reminded him, getting into the driver’s seat.
Jaekyung fastened the seatbelt with a scoff.
“Help me? Hardly. All they did was pretend to help me and take bribes from every single place they could think of.”
Jaekyung must have known. How could he not? The corruption at Korea Aquatics had been public knowledge for some time. Even if Jaekyung usually paid little interest to his surroundings, he must have noticed how people were using his name to extort money.
“I wouldn’t have complained as much if they were actually good at their work. They never even submitted the right paperwork for any of my events. And they kept pushing me to do relay swims, too.”
“Seriously? They really kept asking you to do that? Over and over?”
“Of course,” Jaekyung said as he pulled off his cap and tossed it at the dashboard.
“I see...” Jiheon murmured.
Relay swimming involved a team of four and typically took place in freestyle events. Each of the four swimmers would take turns swimming four hundred meters, or sometimes eight hundred. Jaekyung had competed in the freestyle relay at the Asian Games—his first international event. He’d been in middle school at the time, and had already won the gold in the 200- and 400-meter freestyle events. Jaekyung swam the anchor leg, and many expected South Korea to do well. But the rest of the team underperformed, and they didn’t even make it to the finals.
Jaekyung hadn’t taken part in relay events since then. Jiheon had assumed the coach had kept him out to preserve his top condition. After all, Jaekyung competed in so many categories. It only made sense—considering his stamina, if nothing else—to drop the relay, since the odds of winning a medal were low. That way, he could focus on other events. In truth, his managers had kept urging him to join, but Jaekyung had refused every time.
A medal in a relay meant four medalists at once. Of course, Korea Aquatics wasn’t about to give up on that idea easily.
“Korea Aquatics... any sports federation, really... they’re all like that. They say they want what’s best for the athletes, but really, they’re just pushing their own agenda,” Jiheon muttered, pressing the car’s start button.
“I was expecting to get a full lecture from them today about their demands. I got off easy thanks to you, Jaekyung. Really—thanks.”
Jiheon patted Jaekyung on the back of the head without thinking. Jaekyung’s shoulders instantly went stiff. Taken aback, Jiheon quickly pulled his hand back.
“Where are you meeting your friend?” Jiheon asked, his hand quickly returning to the steering wheel.
Jaekyung slowly took out his phone.
“Gangnam Station.”
“Seriously?” Jiheon said with a dry laugh.
“Well, a taxi would’ve gotten you there faster.”
“It’s fine. A bit late for that now.”
Jaekyung rested his elbow below the window, eyes fixed outside.
“Whatever. Let’s just say it turned into a drive.”
Jiheon chuckled quietly at the absurdity. A drive? Rich. The visit to the Korea Aquatics office had brought about a measure of discomfort that hadn’t been necessary for him.
“Jaekyung,” Jiheon said without meaning to.
Jaekyung turned to him with a glance instead of answering.
“Don’t tell me...”
You actually came all this way just because you were worried about me. Jiheon nearly said the words out loud. This was Jaekyung, of all people—Gwon Jaekyung. No way he would do something like that for someone else. Especially not for Jiheon.
“Don’t tell you what?” Jaekyung asked glumly.
“I mean... are you meeting that friend you were on the phone with?” Jiheon said quickly.
“That’s right,” Jaekyung said, his arm still resting against the bottom edge of the window.
“Yeah? What kind of friend is he, exactly?”
Jiheon realized his slip the moment the words left his mouth. He had already asked something similar earlier—and Jaekyung had just said, “Nobody you know.”
Jiheon braced himself for some snide remark. Only for Jaekyung to actually answer like a decent human being for once.
“Just a friend. Name’s Cha Sunghyun.”
The name shocked Jiheon even more than the fact that Jaekyung had answered him nicely.
“Cha Sunghyun? You mean the actor?”
“Do you know him?”
“Of course I do. There were rumors you two were dating.”
Jaekyung seemed to have forgotten all about that until Jiheon brought it up. He acted like the rumors didn’t bother him in the slightest, and Jiheon was honestly stunned. It was eye-opening to learn that someone like Jaekyung actually dated.
Does he keep that deadpan act up even around his boyfriend? Jiheon threw a sidelong glance at him, his look serious. Then it hit him. No way. That wasn’t likely.
“You probably have no idea how I feel every single day.”
Jiheon remembered the way Jaekyung had smiled when he said that. Jiheon had never seen that expression on his face before, and those words had come out with a sigh.
I kept wondering who could get someone like you to talk like that. Turns out, it was simple.
I get it now. It was the boyfriend.
A laugh escaped Jiheon.
“What?” Jaekyung asked, frowning. He meant the smile, clearly.
“It’s nothing,” Jiheon said, still smiling.
Jiheon felt a strange mix of amusement and disbelief. Jaekyung, dating? That gangly little boy, actually going out with someone?
Sure, he was an adult now, but Jiheon still remembered the boy he used to be. The idea just didn’t fit. Each time he heard a rumor about Jaekyung dating, it threw him off. And whenever there was a denial, Jiheon always thought, He’s not even old enough to be dating yet.
But the truth was, he had been. And seriously, at that.
Jiheon realized he’d been too naive, in hindsight. He wrote press releases for a living, for god’s sake. He’d fallen into the classic trap of taking the media at their word. Jaekyung was an athlete, but the other guy was a full-blown celebrity. And celebrities never admitted to being in relationships.
Jiheon murmured to himself as he drove. He pressed harder on the pedal so he wouldn’t miss the light.
“It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s fine. Just don’t get any photos taken.”
“So what if someone takes a picture? I’m no celebrity,” Jaekyung spat.
“You’re not, but the other guy is, right? You should be careful. Unless you’re aiming for a public relationship.”
“A public what?” Jaekyung’s eyes went wide. Then, almost immediately, “Who are you talking about—me and him?”
“Who else?” Jiheon asked.
“Wait, what do you mean by that? We’re not dating, let alone going public,” Jaekyung muttered, clearly disgusted. Jaekyung let out a startled grunt and turned to look at him.
“I thought you were.”
Jaekyung stared back in silence. Then fired back with a question of his own.
“Are you asking me that as my agent?”
“Well... You could say that. Yeah,” Jiheon replied, vaguely.
He couldn’t bring himself to sound more confident—because truth be told, he wasn’t. Had that question come from him as a person? Or as an agent? Either way, Jaekyung probably wouldn’t say a word unless Jiheon made it sound like business.