F62

After meeting Siwoo during lunch, Yeonho’s condition rapidly deteriorated. The pain Siwoo must have felt because of him, the misunderstandings he held, the hatred he harbored. Everything turned into blades that slashed at Yeonho’s heart.

Then the terrifying thoughts struck: Because of me, the person I love may have committed murder. Because of me, my family might have been killed. The strength drained from his body as if it were seeping out through his feet.

“No. This isn’t true. Just believe it’s not. If you believe that hard enough, then it won’t be.”

He tried to believe in Siwoo and pull himself together. But what hurt the most was the fact that no matter what Siwoo did, Yeonho would end up forgiving him. Even if Siwoo carried out his warning and completely destroyed him, Yeonho knew he would willingly let it happen.

A headache slammed into him like a screw being driven into his temple, and he vomited up everything he’d eaten for lunch. He powered through the afternoon on sheer will alone, then left work an hour early.

He had no coat, so he braved the cold in just a sweater. As soon as he got home, he swallowed two sleeping pills, threw off his clothes, and collapsed on the living room floor. Then came the dream.

The dream played out like flipping through a book that recorded every detail of his life at twenty. He remembered spending his first fall with Siwoo, the second semester beginning after a summer vacation overflowing with love. Then, right after, a drinking party.

At that time, Yeonho loved Siwoo so much that he burned with jealousy and his heart raced over trivial things. He remembered the night Siwoo had bought him a carton of milk when he was drunk, how they had shared it and promised to become the only ones in each other’s lives. Up to that point, everything had been fine.

But the pages of the book that held his memories of being twenty stopped turning after that. Inside him, two versions of Joo Yeonho were now at war. One tried desperately to flip the next page. The other clung to it, trying to burn what was left and erase it completely.

Please, just stop. We don’t need to know more. Just live as you are now.

No, I have to know. For the sake of the person I love. For the sake of my family.

If you forgot it, it was for a reason. You hit your head, remember? No, that’s not it. You buried the memories you didn’t want to keep.

That was the truth. He had erased it because he didn’t want to remember. But he still wanted to know, why had he hurt Siwoo so deeply? He had to recall it, no matter what.

Then what about Kim Siwoo? Is he supposed to live his whole life misunderstanding me, wounded and full of hate? And me? Do I have to keep being hated by the person I love? Are Siwoo and I supposed to stay like this? Even though we love each other, why?

Being hated was better than being ignored, sure. But every time he saw hatred in Siwoo’s eyes, Yeonho felt like collapsing. He didn’t want to be hated. What he really wanted was only love and affection from him.

But another part of him, another Joo Yeonho, rebuked him.

You say you love him, but you erased even the good memories. You deleted it all because you couldn’t handle it. That’s how little your love was.

He had buried everything that began from the moment Kim Siwoo entered his life. It was as if Siwoo had never existed at all. Probably because Yeonho couldn’t bear the idea of Siwoo being gone from his life. The thought of being hated by him forever, he couldn’t endure that either.

I have to know. I love Kim Siwoo. I have to tell him everything, so that kind soul won’t have to be in pain anymore.

No, you mustn’t. You erased it because the truth is unbearable.

Joo Yeonho warned himself. Then tried to stop his own decision. Over and over, the same inner conflict repeated. In the end, Yeonho forcibly flipped the page and started to uncover the memories. The other version of himself covered his eyes and ears.

Fine, then look for yourself! Know it alone! I don’t want to know. I hate this…

One Yeonho fled with the book of memories in his arms, facing the truth. The other ran in the opposite direction, refusing to confront it. In the moment they split off inside the dream, the real Yeonho jolted awake.

He rubbed his eyes, looked around blearily, and sat up groggily. After yawning and stretching his arms overhead, he put his clothes back on. Then, just like always, he grabbed his phone and shuffled out the door.

***

As soon as it was time to leave work, Siwoo grabbed Yeonho’s padded jacket and rushed to the exhibition hall where Yeonho worked. An hour earlier, he had texted Yeonho, saying he’d bring the jacket so not to leave early, but Yeonho hadn’t read the message. He didn’t answer calls either. Is he ignoring me on purpose? Siwoo ran even faster.

He pushed through the crowd and reached the hall in near-impossible time. But Yeonho had already left.

“You’ll catch a cold like this…”

Siwoo headed to Room 315. From what he had observed, whenever Yeonho locked himself inside, even Seong Junyeong couldn’t get in. That meant the only person with access to his home was Siwoo himself.

But when he opened the door, Yeonho wasn’t there.

“Joo Yeonho.”

He wasn’t in the room, or the bathroom, or on the balcony. Maybe he had personal plans after work.

“Are you at least dressed properly?”

Siwoo hung the padded jacket in the closet, tidied up the messy apartment, and did the piled-up dishes. He’d been cleaning Yeonho’s house every morning five years ago and knew how tidy he was. He’d noticed how Yeonho would dust the corners and straighten everything each night.

Back then, Yeonho used to leave little tasks around the house for him to do in the mornings. Even when Siwoo couldn’t visit for a while due to apartment hunting, Yeonho kept the house spotless.

From the state of the house now, Siwoo could tell what kind of days Yeonho had been having recently. He was clearly too exhausted to care about his surroundings. But Siwoo chose not to feel guilty about being the cause.

Still, it hurt to see Yeonho in pain. Seeing him like that always hurt Siwoo too, in ways logic couldn’t control.

What he’d said earlier, that it was better Yeonho didn’t remember, he meant it. And he also meant it when he thought it was a good thing Yeonho hadn’t recovered all his memories.

Part of him wanted to dig up every hidden piece of Yeonho’s past. Another part wanted Yeonho to just keep blaming him and never remember. Love and hate kept crossing each other, twisting into a storm of emotions.

After cleaning, Siwoo was about to leave but impulsively called Yeonho. He’s probably having dinner with someone. Most likely Seong Junyeong. That was exactly why he called, just to interfere, like a proper villain.

Yeonho answered.

[Hello.]

“Why didn’t you pick up earlier?”

[I was out of it. I’m cold.]

“You’re not wearing your coat or jacket? Ask whoever you’re with to give you theirs. Just take it.”

[Can I do that to someone I don’t know?]

“There’s no one but strangers with you? You’re not with your brother?”

[No. I’m cold… My feet are freezing…]

Siwoo tensed. He hurriedly pulled Yeonho’s padded jacket from the closet.

“I’m coming. Where are you? Don’t move. Stay right where you are. Actually, hand the phone to whoever’s next to you.”

Siwoo grabbed socks and a pair of shoes from the entryway as he dashed out.

“Yes, hello? Could you please tell me where you two are right now? Thank you. If it’s not too much trouble, could you hold onto him so he doesn’t go anywhere for a moment? I’ll be there in five minutes. Thank you so much.”

He didn’t wait for the elevator, just ran down the stairs. He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t stay passive anymore about Yeonho’s sleeping pills. He had to stop it.

“Seong Junyeong, what the hell is this guy thinking? Why does he keep feeding him pills? Is he trying to kill him or something?”

Yeonho was sitting at the village bus stop in front of his apartment. As soon as Siwoo arrived, he wrapped him in the padded jacket and gave cash to the elderly man who had stayed with Yeonho.

“I’m so sorry you missed your bus.”

After bowing in apology, he knelt in front of Yeonho. He was about to help him into the shoes when he noticed Yeonho was already wearing slippers. Ones Siwoo recognized as his own. He tilted his head in confusion, then narrowed his eyes.

“What is this?”

“What is what?”

Yeonho asked as he slid his arms into the padded jacket. Siwoo’s forehead was damp with sweat, having run out in only a shirt again. He brushed back his dark hair and, flustered, removed the slippers from Yeonho’s red feet and put socks on them.

“You didn’t leave barefoot?”

“I was wearing slippers, but my feet got cold. Felt like my toes were going to fall off. What would I do if I lost my toes?”

Caught completely off guard, Siwoo responded with a stunned expression.

“I’d pick them up and stick them back on. But why did you go out in slippers? And why no coat?”

“My head hurt. I just stepped out to buy some medicine. It’s right in front, so I didn’t think. But then I got overwhelmed and sat here for a while.”

The elderly man who’d kept Yeonho company boarded the village bus just then. After he left, Siwoo helped Yeonho to his feet and asked in disbelief:

“Then why did you hand him the phone? Why did you just sit there and let him hold you?”

“Because you told me to. I’m good at listening to you.”

Yeonho smiled like he’d stepped out of a memory from when he was twenty.