He paused and looked at his friend. “So that’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You still think he belongs to you.”
“He does not belong to Duri either.”
“No one said he does.”
“He wants him.”
“And?”
Chung-Hee’s grip tightened around his glass. Kija rose from the couch.
“Noeul is an adult. He can sleep with Duri, marry him, leave Korea with him, or never see any of us again. You don’t get a vote.”
“Enough,” Jun said.
His voice wasn’t loud, but both men stopped. Jun stepped away from the window.
“None of this matters anymore. Noeul has moved on.”
Chung-Hee looked at him. Jun hesitated before saying the rest.
“He looks happier. Healthier.”
Chung-Hee’s shoulders sagged slightly. The fire in his eyes dimmed. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a moment, the anger drained out of him, replaced by something raw and exposed.
Jun watched him carefully. Then he remembered Noeul standing in the gallery, asking for the most basic things a grown man should never have needed permission to retrieve.
His identification. His passport. His own money.
“The passport,” Jun said. “His ID. The money. Where are they?”
Chung-Hee’s expression hardened again. “Why?”
“Because they belong to him.” Silence. “Give them to me. I’ll take them downstairs myself.”
“No.”
Jun stared at him. “What?”
“If I give them back, he’ll leave Korea.”
Kija ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to contain his anger. “So what?”
Chung-Hee turned toward him.
“If he wants to leave, let him,” Kija continued. “He’s an adult. He gets to decide what to do with his life.”
“He’s planning to leave. Do you understand that?” Chung-Hee shouted. “If he gets away now, we’ll never be together again.”
Jun stared at his friend for several seconds. “Do you ever stop thinking about yourself?”
Chung-Hee went still.
Jun’s face flushed with anger. “Everything is always about you. Your pain. Your grief. Your insecurities. Your fear of losing him. Have you thought even once about what he wants?”
“I love him.”
“That isn’t enough!”