i.

“I have a surprise for you,” Sungyeol said, smiling giddily.

“What?” Sungjong asked perfunctorily. He was working on the patient files, checking to see if the proper treatment modules were being followed. Sungyeol was sitting on the table he was working on, and instead of guiding him, as he should have, was fooling around with the papers.

“Close your eyes.”

Sungjong puffed his cheeks and let the air out slowly. It was a new way he had devised to control his temper.

“No.”

“Trust me Sungjong, it’s the best surprise you’ll ever get in a long time.” Sungyeol’s voice had something – it held a sort of promise that Sungjong couldn’t resist even though he knew him well. But Sungyeol talked in a way that made you think you’d miss out on something huge if you didn’t listen to him.

Sungjong blew his cheeks again.

“No thanks.”

“A little clue – it has something to do with you thesis paper.”

Sungyeol really knew which combination would give him the jackpot. Sungjong lightly drummed his fingers on the table, thinking what course of action to take. He had recently submitted his paper to the examiners and hadn’t yet heard from them. If his thesis was approved by at least two of the three examiners, he’d be called for an interview.

Unfortunately, the topic he had chosen to research on was controversial and definitely not a hot issue in the medical world. He knew he was running a risk, but still he had gone for it.

At first, when everyone had advised him against it, he was about to give up. But that was when Myungsoo had stepped in, telling him he should do it because all geniuses start with radical ideas which they stubbornly pursue. He didn’t want to be a genius, he never did, but when Myungsoo had explained it like that – it had seemed so real and he had wished to be someone Myungsoo would have been proud of.

“Come on, you know you want it,” Sungyeol prodded.

Sungjong slammed the file he was working on shut.

“Fine, 10 seconds.”

“Enough.” Sungyeol winked at him, his eyes twinkling. Knowing that he was agreeing to something really silly, he felt stupid and yet his pulse fluttered.

A second after he closed his eyes, a pair of lips crashed on his and caught him by surprise, so much so that he instinctively jerked backwards, causing his chair to topple over.

He felt a sharp pain on his right knee and then someone hauling him up, while his head felt like it had been split open.

“I am so sorry, Sungjong.”

Despite his protests, Sungyeol helped him up to the examination table and gave him a quick checkup. Sungjong dimly noticed, through the haze of pain, Sungyeol was groping his body much more than necessary. He put up his hands to stop him.

“No concussion, thank God. I’ll give you a painkiller.”

Sungjong could slowly focus his attention now that the pain was subsiding.

“I don’t need it,” he said weakly.

“You hit your head pretty hard.” Sungyeol sounded guilty and that alone made Sungjong almost forgive him for what he had just done.

“I – what do you think you were doing?” Sungjong grabbed him by the front of his white apron once he sat up.

“Congratulating you, your thesis had been approved. Your interview’s on Thursday.”

Sungjong’s pulse thumped where he had hit his head. He couldn’t believe his ears. In an instant, he forgot that Sungyeol had actually kissed him. But then, another thought crossed him.

“How do you know? This is supposed to be confidential.”

“It is. But since I happen to be one of the examiners -”

“Oh God, no!” The pain came back to him, along with disappointment. “Why didn’t you refuse to review my paper? You know, it’s against the rules!”

Sungjong had a very good idea that Sungyeol had probably ensured that he got to review his paper when it was strictly forbidden to review papers of people you personally knew. Sungjong however didn’t want favors like this, he didn’t want to cheat.

Sungyeol laughed lightly, showing no guilt or remorse.

“You regularly kick me out of your house. It doesn’t count as knowing you.”

Sungjong stared at him, appalled. He couldn’t believe Sungyeol would stoop this low to receive his favor. But if he had thought it would make him feel warmly towards him – he was wrong.

“Why do you do this? I wanted my thesis paper to be accepted for what it is, not because my examiner happens to like me. Do you know how much I worked for it? How could you do this?”

It was definitely not going according to Sungyeol’s plan and he looked confused, his eyes widened with surprise. When Sungjong showed no change in the distasteful expression on his face, he gave him a painful smile that was almost begging. The younger turned away from him – he was so mad that he was afraid that if he looked at him any longer he might punch him or something.

“I hate you!” he confirmed, if Sungyeol didn’t realize it by now. The professor only stared at him in silence, until the air around them grew heavy and Sungjong tried to climb out of the bed. That was when Sungyeol offered him a painful smile and a hurt look in his eyes.

“What makes you think I’m the only one who approved it? All the three examiners did.”

He took out an envelope from his pocket, opened. Sungjong took it with shaking hands. It was true – unanimous approval. So even if Sungyeol had approved it to gain his favor, there was still the fact that the other two professors had approved his thesis too and even if Sungyeol wasn’t one of the judges, he would still get his interview.

Sungjong knew he had hurt the elder, who was only trying to help, but he didn’t know what else to say except, “Don’t open my mail from now on.”

That night, instead of thinking of his interview, he thought about how Sungyeol’s lips had felt on his.

ii.

“Get off me! Don’t, please,” Sungjong struggled against Sungyeol, who had him pinned down on the bed. He now regretted letting him into his bedroom; he should have known when Sungyeol had sounded so persistent about seeing it.

“Why Sungjong, why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Just because he left you, why do you have act as if your life is over?” Sungyeol looked down into his eyes, as if searching them for the answer he knew Sungjong would never give. “You deserve love. Why wouldn’t you let someone love you?”

Sungjong looked away from the intense glare that demanded answers. He was fuming inside – who does he think he is, why do I have to account for my actions to him?

“I hate you. Just get out. I can do just as I please,” Sungjong spoke through gritted teeth. His wrists were hurting him but he didn’t have the strength to wriggle free off Sungyeol, who was in a favorable position. Besides, mentally he was growing weaker every second. Sungyeol’s words felt like a pestle on the gaping mortar in his heart, grounding it into dust.

“No I won’t. I can do as I please as well. And I will not have it – I will not have you wasting away pathetically – no! Tell me what’s so special about Kim that makes you feel like your life is worthless without him?”

Sungyeol’s grip tightened on his wrist. None of his distinguishing features – the roguish grin, or the wicked gleam in his eyes – were present on his face. If Sungjong had been in any other condition than being trapped under him and talking about this topic, he would have been scared of him. But the pain he was feeling, not on his wrist but in his heart, made him immune to all fear.

“I do not think my life is worthless. Stop assuming things, stop telling me what I’m doing, where I’m going. Stop butting into my life!” Sungjong’s voice rose; the words fell like hammer on piston. The pain was building now, and as he blinked he could feel tears pooling in his eyes.

He hadn’t cried in a very long time.

And now here he was, cradling the salty residues of his heart.

“Please,” he added quietly through his trembling lips.

Sungyeol removed his hands. He then gently lifted himself off the bed; Sungjong made no move to get up. He lied on his bed limply, trying to achieve that dark spot where he could forget his anguish and feel lighter, where he could numb to everything around him – his silent respite.

He had thought Sungyeol was gone but then he heard his voice, carried to him in the darkness – sad, bitter and haunting: “You know what Sungjong, that’s why Myungsoo left you, because you’re so stubborn, so very stubborn and you never share.”

He could only let the choking sensation press him from all sides, engulfing him in a darkness he was used to by now. And the tears – they did nothing to lighten his burden – he felt as if he was adrift in nothingness, and the thoughts he had were like weeds that curled around his ankles and wrists – When will they stop thinking that they know Myungsoo, that they know me, that they know everything?

iii.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sungjong was appalled by Sungyeol’s gut as he looked at all the things strewn across the floor – clothes, paper, books, CDs, an assortment of household items.

“This toothbrush, it’s his right?” Sungyeol was holding up the green-and-white striped toothbrush that he had scrounged out of the bathroom cabinet. “And these?” He held up two perfumes and a bottle of aftershave. “You never wear these.”

“Stop this madness!” Sungjong ordered, his eyes clouding over.

“Yes, I’m putting an end to this madness. You have to get rid of every trace of him, you cannot live with all this! This guy left you; his belongings should have been thrown out long ago.”

Sungyeol didn’t wait for Sungjong’s reply. He dived into the study, looking for more relics of the past that Sungjong still held on to.

“Hyung this is my house.”

“Yes, yours and not that Kim’s,” Sungyeol said, tossing more things into the large plastic bag he had brought along. “I’m going to burn all these. I’m going to save you from his ghost, whether you want it or not.”

“Sungyeol -”

“Sungjong,” he cut across him. “I’m not doing this for me, I swear. I’m doing this for you.”

That one statement brought Sungjong crashing to the floor because he knew Sungyeol was speaking the truth. He knew that Sungyeol meant it, about rescuing him from Myungsoo’s ghost, about doing it for him and not for his gains.

Sungjong curled up on the floor of the hallway, the sounds of Sungyeol moving items, opening drawers in the study reaching him like the distant bell of a Church. He wanted to believe that it could be done, that it would be as easy as burning pictures – dethroning the memories that haunted him every moment.

He sunk into a trance, lulled by the sound of Sungyeol’s presence in the next room. He pressed his ear to the wall, trying to guess what else of Myungsoo he had found. But at one point, he realized that the sounds had stopped. It was as if Sungyeol had left, but he couldn’t have since Sungjong would have seen him come out of the door.

Slowly, he got up.

Inside the room, Sungyeol was crouched over the table, reading something intently.

Sungjong inched forward silently, until he hit the chair, causing Sungyeol to look up and swivel around.

“What are you -” Sungjong stopped dead. Sungyeol was crying – his eyes were red and his breathing was slow. The younger lowered his eyes to his hand; he was holding a familiar blue paper. Sungyeol sighed loudly.

“There’s no point, is there?” he asked in a ragged voice, tears falling onto the paper. “You’ll never forget him, you’ll never love someone else. I thought you are dying inside, but you’re actually living in these –” Sungyeol produced the stack of letters, tied with a blue ribbon, that Sungjong had kept in the drawer of the study table. The very letters he wrote almost every day, addressed to Myungsoo.

“There’s no point…”

Sungjong clenched his fists, staring fixedly at the window. He had nothing to say to Sungyeol, who kicked the plastic bag in which he had been gathering Myungsoo’s stuffs. It was almost half full.

“I hate this guy so much, so so much, I could kill him!”

Sungyeol stormed off, that being the last day he was allowed inside Sungjong’s house.