CRANK 18

We rummaged through the cupboard, took out on-the-rocks glasses, and filled a bucket with large ice cubes. When I tried to take out the whiskey I had left over from before, Woo Dobin stopped me, saying he’d brought his own and took out a new bottle.

“It’s the same one that appears in the movie.”

“What movie?”

“[The Nearest Present].”

My eyes widened at Woo Dobin’s words.

“Don’t tell me, you’ve already seen this movie?”

“Once before, just in passing.”

It made no sense that he’d go as far as to buy the Blu-ray if he’d only seen it ‘in passing.’

“Is it okay to watch it again?”

“Of course. That’s why I brought it.”

Woo Dobin said readily, placing the whiskey on the table. It was a rather expensive brand. Did he buy this from the start, thinking I’d want to drink it?

“You, this…”

“Should I make some simple canapés with cheese, or just fruit?”

Whether he didn’t hear my muttering, Woo Dobin, who had been rummaging through the fridge, asked.

“…Fruit.”

Had he really looted a grocery store? In an instant, Woo Dobin whipped up a fruit platter that looked like it came straight out of a bar. Even the apples were cut into rabbit shapes.

“You’re even good at peeling fruit?”

“I’m just like that. I’m good at everything.”

It was a cocky tone, but I couldn’t hate it—probably because Woo Dobin had been bustling about for my sake since a while ago.

“Are you by any chance very full?”

“Not very, just a little?”

Woo Dobin thought for a moment, then started rustling around again.

“Why? What are you doing?”

“It gets boring if you only eat fruit.”

“Hey, forget it.”

“I’m hungry.”

And just like that, in the blink of an eye, he brought out a plate of canapés. As he said, it was a simple canapé with cheese and fruit, but it was strangely pretty. Maybe it was because various colorful fruits were piled on top. To someone like me who couldn’t cook, it was almost magical craftsmanship.

If he was going to do both in the end, why did he even ask? Feeling embarrassed and sorry, I spoke bluntly for no reason.

“…You could sell these. Who even makes stuff like this to eat at home?”

“Is that a compliment?”

Woo Dobin laughed happily and operated the remote. We sat on the floor, leaning our backs against the sofa. The table was full of fruit, canapés, and whiskey—I felt full just looking at it.

“Shall we watch, then?”

When he played the Blu-ray, the sound signaling the start of the movie resonated loudly from the speakers placed next to the screen. Since I’d paid attention to the screen, speakers, and soundproofing as it was an actor’s home, it created a movie theater-like atmosphere.

Woo Dobin carefully poured a drink into my glass. When I tried to pour for his glass, he raised his hand to stop me. With no one else around to hear us, Woo Dobin whispered in a soft voice.

“I’ll pour my own, so just watch the movie. I’ve already seen it, but this is your first time, isn’t it? And you even specifically pointed it out as a movie you wanted to see.”

It wasn’t wrong, so I just nodded. Then, I turned my head toward the screen.

—A woman with bobbed hair stands on a pedestrian overpass and looks down. Cars rushing rapidly along a wide road. The woman bows her waist, bows, bows again. It looks like she might fall down at any moment. As soon as the woman stamps her foot, the screen fades to black and the title appears. [The Nearest Present]

I hugged my knees and immersed myself in the movie. Every time the protagonist drank alcohol, I lifted the glass in front of me. It was just as I had expected. The overall somber atmosphere that lay gently underneath resembled [Pale Death].

How should I act in this scene? What kind of tone would be best for the lines? I’d thought about those things while watching, but that was only for the first twenty minutes. The remaining time flew by in an instant.

By the time I came to my senses, the ending credits were rolling.

“…Ah.”

And the drink table that had been full was half-empty. I turned back to Woo Dobin with my mouth slightly agape. I didn’t know how long he’d been doing it, but Woo Dobin’s gaze was fixed on my face instead of the screen.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Huh? Oh, uh….”

Only then did I recall the snacks that had been entering my mouth over the two hours I was watching the movie. The canapés and fruits, the hand that had wiped my lips, and the glass that kept being refilled no matter how much I emptied it.

It must have been all Woo Dobin. I mean, the snacks didn’t have legs—if it wasn’t him, who would have fed me? My face grew hot thinking about how I must have been foolishly gaping and accepting the food.

“Did you enjoy eating?”

“…Yeah.”

Honestly, I couldn’t even remember properly, but I assumed it must have been delicious. If it hadn’t been good, it would have stood out in my memory. Looking at the almost empty whiskey, I finally felt the alcohol rising.

“Hey, what about you? Did you drink a lot?”

“Of course. Can’t you see my neck is red?”

I couldn’t see it. Surely I wasn’t the only one who drank it all? Was my face feeling unusually hot because of the booze, not because I was embarrassed? As I pressed both sides of my cheeks with the back of my hand, Woo Dobin burst into laughter.

“Sunbae-nim.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly, my cheek was grabbed. My foggy brain couldn’t keep up with the situation quickly. Why is my cheek so cool… I thought, before realizing Woo Dobin’s large hand was cupping both sides of my face.

“Your face is really small.”

“What?”

Well, my face is small, but that was probably also because Woo Dobin’s hands were large. Woo Dobin touched my face all over with a few movements.

“It’s hot.”

I blinked slowly. I could feel my eyelashes touching Woo Dobin’s palm.

“It’s ticklish.”

As I said that, Woo Dobin licked his lower lip. A pink tongue was briefly visible….

“Ouch!”

Only then did I come to my senses and shoved Woo Dobin away hard. I felt like the alcohol had instantly sobered up, as if someone had splashed cold water on me. What kind of atmosphere is this? Why is he licking his lips? Is he insane?

Even though he had been shoved away suddenly, Woo Dobin didn’t look surprised. Since there was no way he’d be pushed back by my strength alone, he must have just let go of his own accord. Woo Dobin smiled leisurely, as if he didn’t know what had just happened.

The cold hand that had been touching my face, the eyelashes that had slowly brushed against him, even Woo Dobin’s provocative tongue—it all felt like my misunderstanding. Woo Dobin did it without any thought, am I just overreacting?

“Is it okay if I mix it for you, Sunbae-nim?”

“What?”

“The alcohol. Since you finished the whiskey, I thought we could move on to sake.”

Leaving me there, still stunned, Woo Dobin stood up with a refreshed expression.

Even though the movie was over, it must only be a little past three. It was still early to be drinking, but in the living room darkened by blackout curtains, time didn’t feel important at all.

Thinking of sake made my mouth water. I concluded that I must have been the only one who felt that strange atmosphere, and that I must have been reacting sensitively because I was drunk. Trying to rationalize it, I stood up from my seat, following Woo Dobin.

“What are you doing?”

It seemed I really had drunk a lot of whiskey. I’d only walked a few steps from the living room to the kitchen where Woo Dobin was, but my head spun for a moment.

“What would you like? It’s not dinner time yet…. Shall we start with salmon salad? Or shabu-shabu?”

Salmon salad would be nice and crunchy, and shabu-shabu would be nice and warm. As I was seriously thinking about the obvious, Woo Dobin laughed softly.

“I’ll do both. That was my plan. Sit down and wait.”

“No, I want to watch you cook.”

“Watch and do what?”

“Just because, maybe I’ll learn. Hey, I told you not to use informal speech, didn’t I?”

Haha, Woo Dobin laughed once more.

“You’re not drunk yet.”

“I don’t get drunk from just that much.”

“It’s over 40 degrees proof. Well, your tolerance is incredible, anyway.”

“How do you know that, too?”

Instead of answering, Woo Dobin shrugged his shoulders. It must be an obvious answer. Saw it in some interview, looked it up on the internet, etc. We’d only met a few times, but I knew. Putting aside the fact that he liked me, one thing was certain: he was a fan of mine. If not that, then he was a stalker.

“By the way, what brand is that tracksuit? Did you buy it yourself?”