~ A Week Later ~

"Hansollie, wake up. It's time for breakfast." From my bed, I glared at my bedroom door. My mother's voice was as delicate as a reed. She drank last night. It didn't help that my father no longer lived with us.

"I'm not hungry."

"Please come out, Sollie. You've been in there for three whole days."

I drew my knees to my chest, feeling anger swell up in my heart again. "And why do you think that is?"

"I know that you are angry about me and your father--"

"'Angry' is not even the right word, Mom."

"Some things happen for a reason, Sollie, and sometimes... nothing can be done about it."

I paused as I tightened my hands into fists. "That's the oldest excuse in the book."

"Regardless of what you think, come down and have breakfast anyway. Please. I don't want you to starve while you're in there."

"You should have thought of that before this happened, Mom. Just leave me alone. I want some peace and quiet." With that, I wrapped myself tightly with my blanket and snuggled forcibly into bed. Tears pooled in my eyes as I thought about what had happened.

I didn't even have time to contemplate whatever happened with Ra-in because three days ago, my parents finally decided to get a divorce. My mother settled with the home and full custody of me while my father got everything else. I came home to my mother curled up on the sofa, sporting a nasty black eye, and my father packing his things into two suitcases. He left five minutes later without a word of goodbye.

"Okay, son. I will set your breakfast on the table before I leave." My mother's footsteps retreated from my door, taking with them her last hope to convince me that this happened for a good reason.

There's no need, Mom. I'm not hungry. I just want things back to the way they were. I don't care if Dad doesn't love you. I just want him back...

I thought that I was all cried out, but apparently, that was not the case. Tears left wet trails on my cheeks, then dropped on my pillow. With a trembling hand, I swiped a thumb under my eyes and captured a tear. I stared at the spherical drop. I tilted my thumb and watched the drop slide off of it.

She's right. Some things happen for a reason and sometimes nothing can be done about it.

I jerked my head at the door when two sharp knocks resounded from it. I glanced at the clock. It had only been five minutes since my mother left home. She wouldn't dare to return, lest she would lose her first high-salary job.

"Hansol, it's me. Are you up, yet?" murmured my father's voice from the other side of the door.

My lips tightened into a thin line. I didn't dare say a word.

"Sollie, I know that you're home. You haven't left the house for three days."

And you haven't been home for three days.

"Please come out. I need to talk to you, alright?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, then glared at the door. According to the way his heels clicked on the floor, it was likely that he was pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. Perhaps he was shaking his head, clutching at his more-salt-than-pepper hair, or muttering under his breath, things he usually did whenever he was under stress. I wondered if he was ever stressed about the sins he committed against Mom.

"Sollie, whatever happened between me and your mom... You need to know the truth. I just need five minutes."

Five minutes? You couldn't have taken those five minutes to speak to me BEFORE you left the house and our lives? My bed creaked as I stood up and reached for the door knob. I paused. What will happen if I open this door?

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Son," Dad breathed. His voice was thin and strained, as if he had too much to drink. Just like Mom.

Taking in a deep breath, I grasped the door knob, turned it, and yanked the door open. There stood my father, in the same clothes he left in three days ago. The stench of hard liquor clung to his clothing as if he had drenched himself in the liquid. He sported a busted lip, a black eye and a streak of dried blood decorated his right temple. To say the least, he looked exactly like how I felt.

"What the-- What happened to you?" I managed to utter after a few minutes of staring.

He rolled his eyes at me in a dry attempt to be sarcastic. "I met Santa Claus. What do you think happened, Hansol?"

I moved on the side and led him to my bed. He sunk into it, mindlessly gripping onto the bedsheet, something he did whenever he sat on my bed. Funny how I remembered all of those little things when all I wanted to do was strangle him with my bare hands. "That's not funny, Dad. You at telling jokes."

"It wasn't meant to be a joke."

"So, why are you here?"

Dad laughed humorlessly. "You know, I've always admired that about you, Hansol. You are different from me and your Mom in that way. You always get straight to the point."

"So, what is the point of your 'visit?'" I asked, raising my hands to make quotation marks with my fingers. "We both know that you aren't here to sit down and have tea."

"Hansol, don't think for once that I wanted to do this. I love you. I love your Mom."

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "Why would you leave, then?"

"I did... I did some things on my business trip that didn't please your Mom."

"Some things like what? ing women half your age?" I whispered, struggling to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

Dad flinched. "There's no need to use those words, Hansol. But, yes. That was part of it. Another thing was... having your Mom personally investigated."

I widened my eyes at the new information. "Personally investigated?"

"Yes. I had an inkling that she was having an affair. I simply wanted to know who it was. It turned out to be my younger step-brother."

"She did that because of your playing around!" I growled, unable to keep my volume down. "Why else would a devoted woman turn to someone younger and better-looking?"

"You probably would not believe this, but it was your mother who started it all, Hansol. She had been in a relationship with Hyunwoo ever since she began working at the bar. In fact, that was where she met him." Dad sighed, then settled his gaze from my face to his hands gripping at the bed sheet. "You have no idea what it is like to find out that your wife of 22 years is actually in love with your step-brother. So, I let myself go a little."

"'A little'," I said, whipping out my quotation marks again, "is an understatement."

"Hansol, I was heartbroken. Your mother was drifting away from me. What could I do?"

"I don't know, Dad. Something. Something other than sleeping around with other women," I replied, sending him a frigid glare. "You could have spent more time with me. You could have tried wooing Mom more so that her heart could turn back to you. You have done dozens of other things!"

I stood up with a huff and stomped down to the dining room without a look backwards. Heat seared across my cheeks and traveled to the tips of my ears. I was furious. I couldn't dare to look into my father's eyes because if I did, I was likely to think murderous thoughts.

Dad scrambled after me, his breaths short and labored. "Son, you have to understand that I'm human, too. I can't make the right decisions all the time."

"That doesn't justify your actions, Dad." I muttered, passing our foyer and making a sharp right into our kitchen. I swept by our brand new refridgerator (the one Dad bought for Christmas Eve) and crossed into the dining room. I stopped in front of the feast laid out before me.

My mother managed to make omurice (*omelette stuffed with rice) for two people and decorated the table neatly with two sets of side dishes. I eyed the two glasses of orange juice, an odd shiver zipping up my spine. Was she expecting Dad to come back home?

"You're right, Hansol. My actions aren't justifiable."

I spun around and faced my father properly for the first time in weeks. Usually I would take notice of his graying hair, then the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, sure signs of his age. I would dismiss those traits as a result of growing old. Yet, as I looked into his eyes, all I could think of was how much I resembled him. The way his hair parted from a single point on the top of his head, spreaded evenly over his forehead and over his ears. The way his lopsided smile curled michievously on the right corner of his lips. The way his dark eyes seemed to plead, mourn, and hope simultaneously.

I saw the same features whenever I looked into my bathroom mirror. And the same features would adorn my face twenty years from now.

"Hansol, I'm a bad man. I left you alone for many days to go on business trips and earn money for our family. I left my wife alone to contemplate what it was like to be truly in love with the man she married. I never planned for this to happen." Dad took a step forward and clasped my shoulders with both hands. "I'm sorry, Son. Please forgive me."

Just then, my father sobbed. SOBBED.

My heart tore a little.

I took a stumbling step back in disbelief. Dad is NOT crying right now. Tears are NOT flowing down my Dad's face right now!

I jerked my shoulders out of my father's grasp and made a beeline for the front door.

It frightened me to see him crying.

Fathers never cried.

~:~:~:~:~

When I ran out the door, I did so blindly. Snow was falling heavily on Seoul, apparently forcing her residents to remain indoors. I had forgotten to bring my jacket. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know where I would end up. I just wanted to get away. Yet, somehow, my feet led me back to the pub. Specifically, the bench in front of the pub.

"Fancy seeing you here again."

I looked up at the female who dared to speak to me during my quiet time. And was pleasantly surprised. "Ra-in-ssi!"

I could barely recognize her. There was no trace of alcohol on her breath or anywhere else on her body. She was dressed daintily in the same fur coat, dark blue skinny jeans, brown leather boots, and soft pink mittens. On her face, she had only light eyeliner, lip gloss, and a wide smile, all of which were fine in my book. I didn't dare say it, but... She's adorable.

Just like Dabin, a small voice didn't fail to add.

"Sollie, how have you been?" She gave me a friendly hug, unaware of the flip-flops my heart did in response. I didn't even notice that she called me, "Sollie," again.

"I-I've been good."

She pulled away, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Huh?" I asked. I was sure that my cheeks were flaming from the hug. "N-No, nothing's wrong."

"Are you sure? Because your face is really hot." She placed her hand on my forehead, which was also beet red. "Woah, you're burning up."

I pulled her wrist down and gave her a small smile. "What are you talking about? I'm perfectly fine. I'm a man!"

She chuckled and with an exhale, plopped down next to me. "I wouldn't doubt that. After all, you DID threaten to punch me the last time we met."

"Oh, right. About that--"

"What are you doing here? Worried about your mom again?" Ra-in asked, looking deep into my eyes. To say that she didn't take my breath away with that stare would be a lie.

I cleared my throat. "No. I came here because of... my Dad."

"Your Dad?"

"Three days ago, he and Mom got into a huge fight and he left the house. They finally decided to get a divorce."

Ra-in moved her gaze to her mittens. "Oh."

"But, he returned today. Albeit, he was drunk and wasted, but he returned. And..." I paused as my voice got caught in my throat. Don't cry, Hansol. You're a man. Prove it.

"And?"

"And he apologized. He apologized and then cried. My father never cries. He never apologizes." My bottom lip wobbled, threatening to release the cry that had been suppressed for years.

Without a word, Ra-in wrapped her arms around me and rubbed soothing circles on my back, whispering, "It's okay," over and over again. It was embarrassing, to be honest. There I was, a grown man, crying like a month-old baby in the arms of a woman I had just met a week prior.

Talk about lame.

In due time, I finished spouting tears and mopped my face with the tissues she provided for me. Unable to cry any longer, cleared my throat and said, "Well, that was embarrassing."

"Oh, it's alright. It wasn't as embarrassing as how I was last week. I was a mess." Ra-in laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, goodness, and when I woke up the next day, Oppa yelled at me until his throat gave out. I couldn't remember a thing. It was something about, 'Where were you last night?' and 'being a drunk university student' and stuff like that. It was stupid, really."

"Oh? Are you still... mad at your Oppa?" I asked cautiously. I didn't want a repeat of last week. Then again, I had done the crying this time, so perhaps we were even in that respect.

Ra-in's smile faltered a little, but before I could conclude that she was still angry, she smiled even brighter and replied, "Nope!"

"Are you sure?"

"Positive! He left, so there's no one to be mad at."

I paused. "He... left?"

"Yup."

"Even though you begged him and even went drinking because of him?"

"Yup."

"What a bastard."

"Look, there is no need for you call my Oppa that. He deserves to be happy and obviously, I'm not the one who will make him happy."

"What about you, huh?" I fumed, gesturing wildly at her. "What about your dongsaeng? Does he understand how immature his decision was? Don't give me that bull because we both know how much of a coward your Oppa is."

"Hansollie--"

"You and your Oppa are the only adults left in your family to support your dongsaeng. Does it make sense to make you his caretaker when you are barely an adult yourself?"

"Hansol--"

"Who is he to call you a drunk? Obviously, he is the drunk one for dumping you and your brother for a woman! Doesn't he understand how important family is?"

"Han--"

"Stop calling my name!" I bellowed, leaning my face close to hers. Her cheeks flushed pink and her breaths came out in shudders. She widened her eyes at me, fear and hurt pooling in her irises. "Do you have any idea how much it--" Affects me?

"It what, Hansol? Is this what you were talking about last time? That I wouldn't want to see you angry?" Ra-in joked weakly.

"Now isn't the time for jokes, Ra-in-ssi."

"I know... I was just--"

I had no idea what came over me, but I wanted her to shut up. Those pretty lips had to stop moving somehow. I pushed my lips against hers and held her close. Something exploded in my chest, perhaps my heart (though it could be something else), and we just stood there, wrapped up in each other's embrace.

I pulled away and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "What were you about to say?"

"I was just joking," she concluded breathlessly. "I love seeing you angry."

I placed a hand on my chest. No pulse.

My heart had exploded.

 

*****Hey, all! I'm sorry for a horrible ending. It has no connection whatsoever to the beginning. Oh, the joys of writing a three-shot. It was my first and last time. >.< Anyway, if you have any comments about the horrible ending, please let me know. Please comment and subscribe! Constructive Criticism is also welcome. I appreciate it! 7.11.14 :)*****