My Korean Christmas Prince Ch. 06

Chapter 6: YEONG-SOO

It's a little after 7 o'clock, and for our evening's entertainment Caleb is leading me out to the barn. I can't imagine what he has in store, but I trust him. In one day we've already had ice skating, a snowball fight, and made a snowman (along with providing cleaning services to a farm's worth of sheep!), so anything else would just be icing on the cake.

But honestly, I don't need to be entertained when I'm with Caleb. We could just be sitting around doing nothing, watching paint dry, and I would still be enjoying myself. The whole day flew by, and even chores that should have been tedious, like shovelling snow, were fun with Caleb at my side. It seems like with every minute that goes by, my feelings for him grow deeper and deeper...

I pull myself up short, like I've done a hundred times already today, and clutch the small black velvet box I've put in my pants pocket. This morning when I woke up I only remembered a part of my drunken ramblings from last night, but that was enough to make me blush and slap my palm against my forehead repeatedly, chastisting myself for being an idiot and letting my guard slip. I hoped Caleb wasn't able to pick up on much of what I'd said, but either way I knew that whatever feelings I may have revealed or whatever false hope I may have given him yesterday, I had to make it clear that we were only ever going to be friends at most. I had put the box with the engagement ring in my pants pocket as a reminder of my resolve.

Keeping distant was far easier said than done, and every physical detail of that damn engagement ring box has been imprinted in my hand by now from holding it practically all day. The ring has completely failed in its purpose, though. It was supposed to be a talisman, to protect me from my growing infatuation with Caleb, but it was a day of losing myself in the moment whenever I was with Caleb, and then grasping desperately at that ring box for strength whenever I had a moment to myself. But what did I expect? How could a little flimsy piece of cold and lifeless metal and gemstones (even one custom designed and worth more than 500 million won) compete against Caleb, a man made of flesh and blood, with his slow smile, his gentle low laugh, those gorgeous gray eyes, full of warmth and intelligence and good humor and kindness... Not to mention that beard, those broad shoulders, those strong arms...

At that thought I glance over at Caleb as we walk, because just like the rest of today, my eyes get pulled towards him just as constantly as my thoughts do. His eyes meet mine and we smile together before I even have a chance to think about it. Feeling like I should distract myself from how much I just want to keep looking at him, I turn my eyes to the quiet snowy evening landscape.

"It's so beautiful," I say, pausing to look around at the distant barns and the trees and back at the house, all still frosted with snow, like a fairy tale wonderland. "It's so peaceful here."

Caleb stops with me and follows my gaze to look out at the scenery. He nods but doesn't say anything, and I notice that Caleb has gone quiet and seems lost in his thoughts again, like when we were driving back from the cemetery yesterday, or last night when he was putting up the Christmas decorations. There were several similar times today, too, times where I don't think he'd even realized he'd gone silent. Surely, it couldn't be because of me, could it? But I remembered he was acting like that even before dinner yesterday, and he barely even knew me then.

I'd let those moments pass before, but Caleb isn't a stranger anymore, and seeing him in any sort of discomfort distresses me, probably more than it should. In case I'd been unintentionally insensitive, I try to offer up an apology.

"Sorry," I say hesitantly. "To me this is all new, like a vacation, but it must not be anything special to you."

Caleb turns his eyes back to me. "No, it's fine," he says, and there's some sadness in his smile. He looks back at the scenery with a little sigh. "It is peaceful," he agrees, "but..." He pauses for a long time, and we both stand side by side looking out at the stillness. Finally he breaks the silence. "It can get kind of lonely," he says quietly, almost as if he's hoping I won't hear him.

I shoot a quick glance at Caleb's direction, but he seems to be purposely avoiding my gaze. I want to study his face, his expression, try to decode his words to see if they have a deeper meaning, hoping with a competely irrational hope that they do, but also knowing that I should be hoping they don't. But I try to respect his privacy and turn back to the landscape.

I pause to think of the right words to say, something that might provide some small degree of comfort. "It can get lonely in a busy city too," I offer up finally. And if there was a deeper meaning in his words, I guess there could be a deeper meaning in mine too.

Caleb is still avoiding my eyes and I'm starting to feel the cold, even with Caleb's winter coat on, and I'm feeling a little restless and unsatisfied at things unsaid or hoped for, so I resume walking, and Caleb follows half a step behind.

When we get to the barn Caleb regains his appearance of cheerfulness, and he steers us up a ladder to a loft above where the sheep pens are. The barn is dimly lit and surprisingly warm and snug, especially in the loft, which is even darker and full of bales of hay and piles of wood chips and such.

"Is that a telescope?" I ask, noticing an object tucked away in one corner.

"You don't miss a beat, do you?" Caleb says, smiling and shaking his head.

"Sorry, I'm just nosy," I say laughing in return.

Caleb sits down on the floor next to the telescope and gestures for me to sit down next to him. He points out the window nearby, up at the night sky.

"No moon tonight, and no clouds either. Perfect for stargazing," he says. "You definitely don't get to see stars in a city. What do you think? Want to take a look?"

"Yeah, okay. Sounds fun."

Caleb fiddles with some settings on the telescope, looks into it, and then motions for me to take a look. He points out the brightest star, called Sirius, the Dog Star, which follows Orion, the hunter. Then he shows me Polaris, the North Star, which points north and which he says you can use for navigation if you're lost. That's apparently part of the Little Dipper, and then there's the Big Dipper, and then he points out Cepheus (named after a Greek king from mythology), his wife, Cassiopeia, and Draco, a dragon.

The Little Dipper and the Big Dipper were the only constellations I'd already known about, and their names make sense since they do look like ladles, and Draco does look like it has a head and a snake-like body. But I definitely have to argue with Caleb about Orion, which just kind of looks like a question mark to me, at best, although I could kind of see how those three stars in the middle line up like a belt. Cepheus just looks like a kid's drawing of a house, and Cassiopeia looks like a "W". The spark in Caleb's eyes as he talks reveals his passion for his hobby. He stoutly defends the ancient Greek and Romans' imaginations, explains the myths like a master ancient storyteller, rattles off scientific jargon like "luminosity" and "photometry", and spouts lists of distances in light years like a walking Wikipedia article. Seeing this new geeky side of him fascinates me... and I hate to admit it, but I'm finding it so, so sexy.

Up in that barn loft, Caleb's words, his stories and factoids, his joking and witty responses to my questions, his own interested questions about what my reactions are, they all join together, flowing on the current of that bewitchingly smooth and calming voice, they combine to weave a spell over me. With our heads bent together in the darkness and speaking in hushed voices, it's like we're cocooned in our own private world, just us and the vastness of space, and I feel closer to Caleb than ever, every cell in my body aware of his physical closeness, the smell of his soap and aftershave, the sound of his gentle breathing as he watches me look through the telescope, his voice low and calm as he explains the sights but with a throbbing note of intensity to it.

Once again we lose track of the time, but at one point I have to sit back and just stare at Caleb in wonder while he's in the midst of one of his explanations.

"What?" he asks, suddenly self-conscious. He had been almost literaly glowing in the dim light of the loft, wholly animated with sharing his enthusiasm, but he tamps a lid down on it. "Sorry, I must be rambling..."

"No, no, no," I say quick to reassure him. "It's great. I'm just amazed at how much you know about all of this."

"Oh," Caleb says, as if just realizing how unusual his extensive knowledge is. "It's just a hobby. I got really into it in high school. I'd actually forgotten about it until I was thinking about how stargazing and hockey were the two things I spent all my time on back then," he explains.

"I used to write stories in high school," I confess to him on a whim in response.

"Yeah? You'll have to let me read them sometime," Caleb says without thinking, and then blushes that cute blush of his.

"Really? You'd want to? I thought some of them were pretty good at the time, although they're probably actually terrible. I probably still have them somewhere."

"I'm sure they're great," he says smiling. "So," he begins, and then pauses slightly. "You liked writing? You didn't always want to be an actor?"

Caleb's question is innocent, and I'm sure he doesn't have any inkling that for me it's a question loaded with painful history. My usual response is to make a joke and shoot back a glib reply. But in the near darkness of the loft with the stars just above us, sitting with our heads together and feeling so close to this man even after less than two days, somehow it's easy to tell the truth about me and my life, to tell the secrets that no interviewer would ever hear. I want him to know about the real me, even the painful parts, the same as I want to know everything about him.

I start off slowly, watching his reaction carefully as I start explaining to him what I'd just been thinking about yesterday. I tell him about my parents, both high-powered and successful, and how my mom put pressure on me to do acting. How they both saw me as just something they could brag about and use as a status symbol rather than caring anything about me as a person who had his own dreams.

"I'm sorry," Caleb says sympathetically. "That must have been hard."

"Lucky for me I liked acting, and I wasn't too bad at it, I guess," I say shrugging. "Nowadays I see as little of them as possible, even though they try to corner me every chance they get just so that they can show me off to their friends."

"That's terrible," Caleb says frowning.

I shrug again, their ability to hurt me long gone. "It is what it is."

"I... can kind of understand what it must have been like," Caleb says without elaborating. "Do you..." Caleb hesitates then forges ahead. "Do you still like acting, even after all that? Would you ever... give it up to do something else?"

Again I look sharply up at Caleb to see if he's aware of how his question could be interpreted, and again it seems like he's avoiding my gaze. My heart has leaped up at his question and is suddenly beating as fast as a hummingbird's as I imagine what Caleb might actually be asking, but I clumsily grab for that black velvet box in my pocket and give it a hard squeeze as I try to keep calm and act naturally. You're leaving tomorrow, I remind myself. You're leaving tomorrow.

I try to think of the right way to reply that would be truthful but not overly harsh.

"It's taken me a lot of effort to get where I am," I say slowly, searching for the right words. "It was a one in a million chance that I would ever make it as an actor, and a one in ten million chance that I would get to be this popular. It wasn't just luck, though, but also a hell of a lot of hard work. It hasn't been easy. I told you I had to give up a lot?"

Caleb nods, remembering our conversation in the truck. I feel like my words are relentlessly spilling out of my mouth, too quickly and too sharp and pointed. It feels like they're cutting up my insides, but I force myself to go on and I continue in a flat, matter-of-fact tone that as an actor I can tell sounds robotic and false, but which I hope fools Caleb.

"There's all that, but now other people rely on me as well. You probably don't have any idea how many staff an agency has, that rely on an actor like me for their living. Personal assistants, personal trainers, dietician, language tutors, stylists, publicists... It's like we're all part of a great big machine and I'm the product."

Caleb is listening closely and nodding, but he's still avoiding my eyes.

"Popularity comes and goes, and I'm not going to be a heartthrob forever," I say continuing. "But my agency thinks that if we plan it out well, I can transition to other roles within the next 10 or 15 years and continue to act like some other lead actors like me have done."

"Makes sense," Caleb says in a calm voice. "Sounds like a good plan."

Dammit, why does it sound like I'm reading off of a script? It must be because I've gone over all these points in my head so many times already today. But now I'm speaking with more intensity, like I need to make Caleb understand what I've already decided, convince him it's not even really a choice for me.

"I've worked hard, and I'm proud of what I've accomplished," I say, and it's like I'm trying to convince myself just as much as convince him. "And being an actor, being a top tier celebrity... it's not just something you can just walk away from, you know?"

"I can imagine," Caleb says, still in that calm, detached voice. That voice is foreign to me, completely unlike the warm, laughing voice I'd come to know. In comparison this voice seems ice cold, like a stone wall, like it belongs to a stranger whom I've never even met, let alone spent two unforgettable days with.

I feel a sting deep within me at the change, and my mind is a mess of contradictory emotions. Why am I upset at his reaction? He's saying all the right things that he should be saying. I want to ask Caleb what he really thinks, but then I don't want to know. I want him to agree with me, that I couldn't possibly throw away everything I've built up, and really mean it, but then I want him to confess that he loves me, to beg me to stay on this farm with him forever, to convince me it's the right thing to do. I want to leave right now and forget I ever even met him. I want to apologize if I hurt him. I don't know what I want, and for no good reason I feel anger flaring up inside of me. With Caleb, with myself, with the world.

The silence is chilly and stretches out between us like a crack growing, increasingly widening to become a huge impassable canyon, and then still feeling defensive and belligerent I ask a counter to his question. "So, what about you? Have you ever thought about giving up farming? Would you ever move?"

The questions are out almost before I've realized it, but now I have an overwhelming need to know his answer. Caleb kind of freezes at my questioning, and I stare at him intently. That quiet, distant look comes back to his eyes. When a few moments pass and he still doesn't reply, my anger recedes as I start to worry that I've said something insensitive again. I start to apologize for prying, but Caleb looks at me with the same sad smile as before.

"No, it's okay," he says slowly. "It's... complicated." Eventually he also adds, "But, I don't mind telling you. If you want to know." I'm flattered that Caleb wants to tell me his story. Maybe he's feeling that same closeness with me that I was feeling with him, from being cocooned in the warmth and darkness and secrecy of the barn loft, a closeness that maybe lets us open up in a way that we normally wouldn't.

I nod, and Caleb pauses and swallows hard. "I... I had a hard time growing up. Especially being an only child. I used to get along with my parents when I was younger, but as I got older..." Caleb hesitates, and the silence stretches out again.

"What happened?" I ask gently, my previous irrational anger now completely evaporated. "What changed?"

Caleb takes a deep breath and then speaks matter of factly. "I realized I was gay." He looks searchingly at my face for my reaction and quickly adds, "I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable. I totally understand if you don't want to hang out and if you want to go back to the house and..."

"No, of course not," I say unable to keep the smile from immediatey spreading across my face, trying and absolutely failing to hide or at least restrain my elation at this confirmation of what I'd suspected. And, I have to be honest, secretly hoped, despite my situation being hopeless. "No, I am too. I'm gay too, Caleb," I tell him. The confession pours out of me unbidden, and I'm smiling so broadly it's as if my face is going to split into two. I don't think I'd ever even thought those two words "I'm gay" to myself, let alone said them out loud, and absolutely no one else in the world can know. God, if anyone else knew... But I trust Caleb. And I can't say that I feel any regret about my spontaneous coming out either when I see Caleb's wide, warm smile in response, matching the broadness of my own.

"Great. That's great," he says, as if he has an idea of what it means for me to say these simple words, what a risk to my career, my entire life it is. But his speech is a little subdued and that sad smile returns almost immediately.

There's a silence again as he considers how to continue. "My parents... they were really traditional and really, really religious. I mean, *really* religious. I didn't really think about it when I was growing up. It was just the way it was and it seemed normal, but when I got older and knew more about other people, to me it felt like their devotion to their religion... it was almost like an obsession with them. They looked to their church to tell them what to think about everything. They believed whatever they were told to believe, what to wear, what to eat, who to socialize with, who to ignore... They were suspicious of everything and everyone who wasn't part of their church. I don't think the church we went to was much different than any other church, but my parents, they were so completely, absolutely devout. I think nowadays there are a million different different churches with different denominations and people shop around for the brand of Christianity that fits the best with what they want to believe, but my parents would think that's insane and completely backwards. For them there's only one church and you believe everything they tell you to, without question. That's it. Full stop. Entire generations of our family have been living in this area and going to this same exact church, and there's no questioning it. You just do exactly what you're told."

Caleb looks over at me to see if I'm understanding what he means, and I nod. "So, this church thinks homosexuality is a sin?" I guess.

Caleb nods. "Exactly. When I realized I was... gay... I knew what would happen. I'd sat through sermon after sermon, Sunday after Sunday, all through my entire childhood, about how the gays are all going to hell and that we should cast them out, but somehow..."

Tears have come to Caleb's eyes and there are decades of pain and hurt in his voice.

"In the bottom of my heart, I just didn't think... I just couldn't believe that my parents would really cast *me* out. Their only child."

I instinctively reach for Caleb's hand with mine. I give it a squeeze, and he looks up at me gratefully. Caleb's voice is thick with tears and his words come out faster and faster, like there's a dam that's been holding them back for years that has finally burst.