RB 107

There was no sign of anyone in the annex. It was dark and desolate. Yeorok looked around the house, then went upstairs.

Even on the second floor, the stillness was the same. His slow steps led him to one specific place as if he already knew where to go. Dim light leaked through the crack under Eunho’s closed door.

Yeorok stopped in front of it. He was about to knock but instead turned the doorknob. When he stepped inside, the familiar room felt strangely foreign. Nothing had actually changed, yet it felt like every trace of Eunho had vanished.

“……”

Standing still in the middle of the room, he searched for the reason. He caught a whiff of a scent in the air. It was the perfume Choi Yoonho used to wear, still clinging everywhere.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. Eunho came out in a bathrobe, roughly drying his wet hair with a towel. When he saw Yeorok standing frozen in the living room, his indifferent expression immediately distorted.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk.”

Yeorok’s voice was cold, maybe because of Eunho’s tone, or maybe because it sounded like how he used to speak to Choi Yoonho. He didn’t even know anymore. His arms were still aching to reach out to Eunho. His head and body refused to move together.

Eunho glared at him, then threw the towel on the floor.

“Perfect. I had something to ask too.”

He shuffled over in his slippers. Even the way they sounded on the floor felt strange. Eunho had always said wearing slippers indoors was uncomfortable. Yeorok stared at the white wool slippers and the thin ankles stepping toward him and wouldn’t leave.

Eunho slumped carelessly onto the living room sofa. Tilting his damp head, he looked up at Yeorok.

“I’m 23 now, right? The trust is over.”

“……”

“Then why the hell don’t I remember anything? Did I get in some kind of accident?”

Yeorok couldn’t say a word. He just sat down next to him.

As soon as he did, Eunho frowned. Out of the whole couch, Yeorok chose the spot right beside him, and it made him uneasy. Eunho moved away, putting obvious distance between them.

Even though both had said they wanted to talk, neither spoke first. The silence dragged on until Eunho leaned his head back lazily.

“I heard the rough story, you know? Thinking about it, it’s funny. The moment the trust ends, you throw me in a mental hospital. Looks like something you’d do just to screw me over, so why’d you pull me out so fast?”

“……”

“Don’t tell me you felt guilty. You don’t even have a conscience.”

Eunho’s eyes sparkled as he asked that, like he really wanted an answer.

His expression, his voice, everything about him was Choi Yoonho. Yeorok gave a hollow laugh. The longer he looked, the harder it was to believe what stood before him, and his expression slowly turned stern.

“You said we’d talk, so talk. What, you lose your tongue? Then get out.”

Eunho’s mockery finally broke Yeorok’s silence.

“How’s your headache?”

“You’re worrying about me now?”

Eunho snorted, the sound dripping with scorn.

“Don’t start acting like you care. My head’s about to split open already.”

He massaged his left temple with his hand. Even from his furrowed brow, it was obvious his head really hurt. Yeorok forced himself to sound calm, trying not to provoke him.

“There was… a mistake at the hospital.”

“A mistake? You expect me to believe that? You, the control freak?”

“I did plan the admission, but I changed my mind. Seo Taehwa went ahead with it secretly after I’d already canceled. Whatever the reason, it’s still my fault. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“……”

Eunho, who’d been listening in silence, scowled. Then he got up from the sofa.

“Ha, that son of a bitch. And I kept looking for him that whole time! Where’s that bastard Seo Taehwa now?”

He raged, swearing furiously, ready to smash something. That violent temper, that crude way of talking, it was all too familiar, exactly like Choi Yoonho. Yeorok just watched quietly.

“Forget it. Where’s my phone?”

Eunho grabbed his head and growled. He cursed about where his damn phone had gone, saying Seo Taehwa must’ve stolen it too.

Yeorok pulled the phone from his pocket. The hospital had returned it, and he’d been holding onto it since. He handed it to Eunho.

“What’s this?”

Eunho looked down at the phone in his hand. It was the same one Yeorok had given him as a birthday gift just a few days ago, but he stared at it like it was something he’d never seen before.

“……”

When he tapped the screen, the face recognition worked immediately. The home screen was a plain default background, and only the basic apps were installed. Frowning, he poked through a few menus.

“Who used this thing before me?”

“It’s yours.”

“There’s only your number saved in here.”

And that wasn’t all. The message log was even worse. Every text was a conversation with Choi Yeorok, each one calling him ‘Chairman’ and written in formal speech. Just looking at it made Eunho’s skin crawl.

“Who the hell is Sim Eunho supposed to be?”

The more they spoke, the clearer it became to Yeorok that Eunho’s mind wasn’t in one piece. Every trace of who he really was had been wiped from his head. Yeorok quietly covered his mouth. His nausea growing more severe.

“For now, stay in the main house instead of the annex.”

“Why would I?”

“There’s no one here to look after you. Seo Taehwa ran away.”

“So what. I’ll stay at a hotel or something. You think I’m crazy enough to go back there?”

Eunho replied with a look of pure disgust. And he wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t a child, and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. This was nothing but Yeorok’s stubbornness.

But Yeorok didn’t back down. Even if it meant forcing it, he had to keep Eunho close.

“Your memory isn’t stable right now. Just until you get it back.”

“I’ll live fine without a few months of memory. What’s the big deal? Since when did you start worrying about me?”

Eunho grumbled irritably, then suddenly straightened his back. He stared directly at Yeorok’s face. The irritation on his face turned into a crooked smile.

“This is funny. You used to hate even looking at me. What happened that you’re suddenly so meek? I’m actually curious.”

Yeorok’s behavior was suspicious. The man who was always arrogant, who made a habit of looking down on everyone, now couldn’t even lift his chin in front of him.

Even if he’d done something wrong, Choi Yeorok was not the kind of person to bow his head first. He never showed emotion. Yet now, anyone could see the anxiety written across his face. That alone piqued Eunho’s interest.

Did I get something on him?

He scrutinized Yeorok’s face in silence, and Yeorok met his gaze. His black eyes caught him like a snare, deep and impenetrable.

“I did a lot of wrong to you. That’s why you’re like this now.”

“What are you talking about?”

Eunho frowned, muttering, “My head,” and leaned back.

Thinking he might have a fever, Yeorok reached out immediately. The moment his hand touched him, Eunho flinched. He yelled for him not to touch him, said it was disgusting, but Yeorok ignored it and checked his forehead.

The large gauze patch on the right side of Eunho’s forehead had gotten damp while he was washing. The wetter it felt under Yeorok’s fingers, the more intense the ache that spread through his chest. It was a feeling he’d never known before. But he wasn’t so ignorant that he didn’t understand what it meant.

He had seen with his own eyes how that wound came to be. Eunho had banged his own head against the wall. Yeorok had watched the recording, seen how much he’d suffered, how completely he’d broken down. He felt overwhelmed by guilt.

“Get your hand off!”

Eunho shouted and shoved Yeorok’s shoulder. But instead of moving away, Yeorok pulled him into his arms.

“The hell’s wrong with you? Hey! Let go! What’s your problem?!”

Eunho struggled, pushing and hitting him, but Yeorok only held him tighter, restraining him. In a fight like this, the first one to lose strength would be the one to lose.

Eventually, Eunho’s upper body gave out. His chest and back rose and fell as he caught his breath, his head dropping weakly onto Yeorok’s shoulder.

Eunho frowned. The arms around him, the warmth, they were all unfamiliar.

“You’re really weird, uncle… You’ve never hugged me before.”

“……”

“Why are you doing this? My head hurts. Fuck…”

“If it hurts, stop thinking.”

“…It feels like my head’s gonna crack. Call Ahn Jaehwan.”

Eunho complained weakly. The more he did, the tighter Yeorok’s embrace became. His way of comforting was clumsy, almost rough. Maybe because of that, the head resting on his shoulder gradually grew heavier.

Eunho mumbled for a while, then fell asleep. He no longer pushed him away or yelled like before. His even breathing was the only thing that reminded Yeorok of Sim Eunho.

But Yeorok didn’t let him go. It would be truer to say he couldn’t, out of fear.

“…You’ll be alright.”

Yeorok closed his eyes. The words were more for himself than for Eunho.

We’ll both be alright.

We’ll go back to the way things were, to when everything was whole.

It had to be that way.