Page 56 of Signed, I'm Yours!
He studies me for a few quiet moments.
“Is…is this what you do?” he whispers. “Is this your job?”
I nod.
“We visit crime scenes, study forensics, and try to find the culprits before they hurt anyone else.”
Seojun closes his eyes and turns his head back toward the window. He doesn’t say anything. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride or when we’re back at his home. Not even when I order us lunch and put a comedy on the TV, trying to distract him. I even have half a mind to suggest we snoop at the SPAM offices, but in the end, I just stay quiet and give him his space. As much as I can, considering our situation.
“You know…” I say when we’re in bed later that day, lying in the dark. Seojun turns to look at me. “I wish you didn’t have to see that.”
“It’s not your fault,” he whispers. “I got us into this mess.”
And while that is true, I’m also responsible for subjecting him to the horrors of my job.
“H…how do you do it?”
I turn on my side and support my head with my hand, staring into the darkness of his eyes.
“My power makes it easier.”
“How?” He grimaces. “What’s positive about a murder scene?”
I bite my lip and take a second to appreciate this moment. It’s a peek behind the curtain, behind the frill and bang that Seojun presents to the world every waking moment. A peek behind the Sinister Seomyeong. A look at the real Seojun. A young, vulnerable guy trying to find his way in the world. Maybe in the wrong way but even so.
It should make him a fool, thinking he can navigate the world like this big, fearless persona to hide his wounds, but I don’t know. It’s a little endearing to know these things about him, especially since I don’t think he realizes he’s letting me in on all his secrets most of the time.
“There’s nothing positive about murder,” I tell him and put my hand on his that’s wrapped around the pink cushion.
His gaze wanders down to my hand on his, and he purses his lips.
“So how does it help? Your power?”
“Because…every time I walk into a crime scene, I think thank God it’s me and not someone else who has to look at them. Every time I look at the carnage left behind, I don’t see the horror but the potential evidence we can find in it. Every time I look at the victims, I thank the heavens they’ve got me to fight for them.”
Seojun glances up at me, and the edges of his mouth quirk to one side.
“That’s…sweet.”
I’ve never actually told anyone this. Well, the one person I did, looked at me funny and told me I was a weirdo right to my face, so since then, I’ve kept it to myself. I’m fully aware of how it comes across. Like I’m someone important. Like I’m better than everyone. Like I’m a little bit twisted.
“Really?” I ask him.
I’m sure he’s just saying that, but it’s nice not to be rejected for once. Not to be laughed at, mocked, or ditched because of a part of me I can’t control. A part that should bring joy to people, yet it only brings division.
“Really.” Seojun lifts his hand and threads his fingers through mine.
I stare at our linked digits, the fire that throbs underneath the skin, sending waves through the rest of me, and I swallow a knot in my throat.
“I know I make fun of you, but…the things you must see as a…as a…an agent. The resilience you must have to choose to go back…it’s admirable.”
“It’s just my job,” I whisper, and he squeezes his eyes shut.
“That’s not a job. All that blood. All that death.” He shudders and opens his eyes again. “I’m scared to close my eyes because it’s all there, imprinted, but keeping them open doesn’t help either.”
I feel a tear form in my eyes as I yank the cushion from between us and put my arms around him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I rock us back and forth as if that can help erase those images from his head, but it can’t. Nothing but time can.
