F92

Yeonho and Seong Junyoung’s conversation couldn’t be heard from where Siwoo stood, but just from the way Yeonho faced Junyoung, he could guess what kind of decision he was making. His eyes were fierce, his expression calm, his gestures rough. Even from a distance, he could see his hostility toward the other man.

Siwoo was relieved. Yeonho was choosing a different path this time. He wouldn’t leave him.

While he stood a little ways off watching their conversation, a text message arrived. It was from someone who introduced themselves as a producer for a current affairs program. Siwoo didn’t know how the person had gotten his number, but they were requesting an interview about the fatal ski accident at Platte Resort.

Normally, he would have ignored it, thinking it was already in the past. But one name in the message made it impossible to ignore.

Joo Yeonho.

The message said to call anytime if he was available to talk. Siwoo carefully tapped out a reply with the tips of his fingers peeking from the cast, accepting the request. The producer called right away. Keeping his eyes on Yeonho, Siwoo raised the phone to his ear. What he heard was this:

They had discovered that the person involved in the recent ski accident at the resort was Joo Yeonho, the son of the resort’s owner. The producer explained that they had previously received a tip from Joo Yeonho himself and had already conducted an interview with him. Now they wanted to hear Kim Yeonho’s side of the story. At the moment, Joo Yeonho couldn’t be reached because his phone number had changed, but the team intended to contact him again once he recovered enough.

The producer also mentioned what Yeonho had said during the interview.

“I don’t have anything to say at the moment. Let’s just meet. I’ll tell you in person. I’ll be in touch once I’ve confirmed my schedule.”

After the call ended, Siwoo let out a long breath. His chest ached like it was being ripped open.

There were probably many reasons why Yeonho had tried to let him go this time. Maybe, as Yeonho had said, he still saw Siwoo as someone weak. Maybe it was because he thought Siwoo had been in a relationship with someone else in the U.S. for four years and couldn’t believe his feelings were sincere. Maybe it was because of all the cruel words Siwoo had hurled at him, so he never really understood what was in his heart.

But if you dug into the core of every choice Yeonho made, you always found Seong Junhee at the bottom of it. Five years ago, Seong Junhee had relentlessly brainwashed him, insisting that Joo Yeonho was an obstacle ruining Kim Yeonho’s future. From what Siwoo could tell, Yeonho had been severely gaslit.

The worst part was that Yeonho didn’t even seem to realize it. But Siwoo didn’t want to point it out. The only thing he could do was let Yeonho know how precious he was to him.

That was why Yeonho always became hypersensitive at even the slightest thought of hurting Siwoo. He would throw himself forward, trying to take full responsibility.

The choice Siwoo had made five years ago, taking the blame for Yeonho’s crime, had weighed heavily on him ever since. Yeonho couldn’t stand the fact that Siwoo had become the target of all the criticism and punishment for something he himself had done.

Siwoo had been part of what made things harder for him. Forcing goodwill on someone who doesn’t want it can sometimes be poison. Even self-sacrificing choices can end up doing harm.

Back then, the decision he made was for a Yeonho who didn’t love him, not for the Yeonho who did. But Yeonho had always loved him. That was what made things so complicated.

Yeonho hurried his steps. Talking face to face with Seong Junyoung left him feeling tainted all over. Just looking at that face felt like having grime stuck on his cornea. Even breathing the same air within a short radius made him sick to his stomach.

He wanted to get back to Siwoo as fast as possible, to breathe in the clean air beside him. The carbon dioxide coming from Kim Siwoo’s lungs was better than any oxygen around Seong Junyoung.

The only reason Ju Yeonho had to live was Kim Siwoo. The reason he had to die was because he had taken a life and never paid for it. Once the reason to live had left his side, death had been the only choice that made sense.

But now he had to live. The reason was standing right in front of him.

“Hyung, why are you out here?”

Siwoo was waiting for him in front of the hospital. Yeonho’s serious expression lit up, and he ran toward Siwoo. Siwoo smiled and welcomed him.

“I was afraid you’d run, so I came to catch you. I even got ready to chase you if I had to. But you came back. I guess you’re finally listening to me like you promised.”

“Kim Yeonho-ssi, you really don’t trust Joo Yeonho at all, do you?”

Yeonho murmured playfully. Siwoo took his hands out of his pants pockets and held Yeonho’s hand, then pulled him close, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and held him tight.

“Come here. Let’s stay close, so I don’t get anxious.”

“Yeah. Let’s stay close. I like being close.”

Leaning into Siwoo’s embrace, Yeonho stared into his face, he wanted to wipe away all the filth from his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead to Siwoo’s and took a deep breath.

“Hyung, when we get back to the room, give me mouth-to-mouth. I couldn’t breathe properly, afraid I’d inhale the same air as that bastard. I need to breathe some of yours.”

“Let’s do it now. You’re supposed to start mouth-to-mouth as soon as possible.”

“No, not in the hallway. There are too many people.”

“It’s mouth-to-mouth.”

Back in the hospital room, after an extended session of mouth-to-mouth, they sat across from each other, lips swollen and red. Siwoo showed Yeonho the text message he had received from the producer. They needed to talk it over carefully before agreeing to meet. And maybe, just maybe, this contact could become another chance for them.

After reading the message, Yeonho looked up at Siwoo and smiled. He had changed his number after Siwoo left to ensure there would be no incoming call history from Siwoo on the deceased’s phone. But somehow he had ended up surviving, and that was why he had missed the producer’s attempts to contact him.

“What would you have done if you were me, hyung?”

Siwoo understood what was in Yeonho’s heart. He knew that if their roles had been reversed – if Yeonho had been falsely blamed and condemned for Siwoo’s actions – he would never have sat back and done nothing. He would have wanted to set things right.

“I probably would’ve made the same choice you did.”

“Thank you for understanding, hyung.”

Only after hearing those words did Yeonho feel some peace. Only then did he feel comforted. And now he wondered, could he finally show Siwoo everything? Even the rotten and broken parts inside him, maybe Siwoo would accept it all. He seemed strong enough now, steady enough to rely on.

Yeonho sighed once and began to speak slowly, laying bare the dark, heavy thoughts he couldn’t share with a therapist, the kind he had never spoken aloud.

“Hyung. Even when I feel happy like this, the thought keeps coming back. Do I really deserve to be alive? I killed someone. So of course it keeps haunting me. Even if it was Seong Junhee I killed, it doesn’t change anything. I can’t bear the fact that you’re the one carrying the burden of my sin. No matter how it ends, I keep thinking that my story should finish with me revealing everything and then dying.”

Siwoo drew a slow breath to ease the ache in his chest, then gently pulled Yeonho into his arms. The way Yeonho was unearthing that deep, tangled darkness reminded him of himself five years ago.

The day he had exposed his stained, naked body and shattered family history to Yeonho. He had met for the first time in his life, someone who licked those wounds clean, who promised to protect him, who stayed by his side. He could never forget that moment. The number that had always followed him, June sixteenth. That day, Siwoo had been saved by Yeonho.

Saving someone’s life and saving someone’s soul were not the same thing. Just because you kept someone alive didn’t mean you saved their life. What Siwoo had done for Yeonho was the former. What Yeonho had done for him was the latter.

The Siwoo who existed now was here because of Yeonho. And that meant it was time for him to do the same in return.

“Yeonho. Saying things like ‘Seong Junhee deserved to die,’ or ‘I would’ve killed him myself anyway,’ or ‘I don’t care if people think I killed someone,’ none of that’s going to help you, is it?”

Yeonho gave a small nod, a bitter smile on his lips. Siwoo kissed his cheek lightly, then continued, skipping over the useless reassurances and saying only what might truly reach him.

“I know it’s hard, but just live with it. Live with being a murderer, Yeonho. There’s no changing it. He’s already dead.”

Yeonho burst into a wide smile. He shouldn’t have smiled, but he couldn’t help it. Siwoo smiled too and went on.

“I know it’s selfish of me to ask, but live with your crime, even if you never pay for it and just keep it hidden. I’m really okay now. Do it for me.”

“…”

“I pushed this burden onto you and made you into the bad guy. I’m sorry. I’ll carry that guilt. Let’s try to get through this together.”

Siwoo’s solution was simple and clear. Yeonho felt like their roles had flipped from five years ago. Back then, he had been the naive, uncomplicated one, and Siwoo had been the one twisted with pain. But now, after surviving those years, Siwoo had learned how to cut straight through things. And Yeonho couldn’t help but feel proud of him for that.

Yeonho covered his face with both hands. Siwoo gently pulled his wrists down and wiped the tears from his eyes, then spoke in a sincere voice.

“Yeonho. Save me one more time. You holding it all in, keeping it hidden, and staying alive, those things are what save me. Because I can’t live without you.”

Yeonho understood. Siwoo wasn’t saying, “I’ll save you.” He didn’t dare use those words. Instead, he was saying the opposite, giving Yeonho the role of savior, turning it around to rescue him instead. Their lives were bound together. So by saving Siwoo, Yeonho would also be saved.

And because of that, he couldn’t say no.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

He made a promise. Just to endure it. For Siwoo. He had to.

Yeonho cried, finally releasing the heavy lump of guilt that had been coiled up like a knot inside his chest.

“I love you, hyung.”

At that confession, Siwoo’s heart pounded wildly. This wasn’t a bright, innocent Yeonho who shouted “I love you” without knowing what it meant. This was a broken, scarred Yeonho, and those words meant something entirely different coming from him. They sounded like a vow. Like a promise to never leave him again. And so, Siwoo couldn’t hold back his own tears anymore.

Yeonho spilled out his guilt, spoke words he had never been able to say to Seong Junhee in his dreams, even as he appeared night after night to strangle and torment him. Or rather, to the version of Seong Junhee that wore his own face.

“I want to stay alive and keep loving you, hyung. I want to live.”

He wanted, selfishly, to go on loving Siwoo for a very long time. To love him so shamelessly and happily that even Seong Junhee’s ghost, wherever it was, would be seething with rage and unable to rest in peace.