Chapter 10: Empty Eyes

Woo Bin stares at the grey woollen sweater lying on his bed; it is the one he had worn that night when they first became one with each other. Woo Bin holds the sweater to his face and the familiar smell immediately strikes him, an overwhelming grief knotting his stomach and pulling at his heart. Pins and needles run up the back of his neck and a lump in his throat threatens to choke him. Panic takes over. His scent still lingers deep into the wool, just like his memories in the depth of his mind. Apart from the low hum of the fridge and the occasional of the pipes, the house is quiet. He is alone. Bile rise to his throat and he runs to the bathroom, where he collapses to his knees before the toilet.

Jong Suk is long gone and he will never appear again. That is the reality. He would never again run his fingers through Jong Suk’s soft hair, never listen to his soft snores until he falls asleep, never climb through his window, hoping to see his beautiful face, and never taste those lips nibbling over his own—possessive and needy. Because he has disappeared, because Jong Suk did not believe that Woo Bin only loved him, because he didn’t know that he meant his world to Woo Bin… is that why you said you can never stay by my side? Is that why you left me all alone? So that you can run away from the guilt you felt for your sister, so that you can just ignore my choice and force me into a so called happy life that you were talking about? Did you just want to play with my heart? All that is left behind is a bundle of memories and an image of his face so close to Woo Bin’s that they are breathing each other, but that is becoming more and more vague by the day.

How many years has he been like this already? Woo Bin wonders while he stares in the mirror for a few seconds, looking at himself as if he is a stranger.

Who is this?

He supposes that to anyone else he looks exactly the same as he always does, except for his hair that is. He doesn’t have the energy or inclination to fuss with it like he did a few years ago, so he just let it stay the way it is, crumbled and messy and untouched for days.

But he doesn’t recognize himself. Maybe his face isn’t any different, but the look in his eyes is. Worse than dead, their expression is simply blank. He reaches out a hand to cover them in the mirror. He remembers the reflection that used to stare back at him. Those eyes weren’t dead like now. They never were before, no matter what pain he had to endure.

Woo Bin had never known that he used to be alive. It had simply never occurred to him that his life before three years was certainly alive. Because during that time, he had Jong Suk, his eyes had emotion, they gleamed with pain, they gleamed with anger and at times love took over the glitter. But today they have no gleam of tears or pain or anger or even hatred. They are just empty.

The one thing that can make Woo Bin laugh these days is how much of an idiot he was to believe in Jong Suk; to believe those sweet whispers of love, like a blind man. He shakes his head at how foolish he used to be, crying like an idiot when he looked at Jong Suk’s pictures, babbling like a crazy girl who had lost her first love, or something equally stupid.  

Stupid! He says in his head.

He has an urge suddenly to smash his head against the mirror. Wipe that silly expression off his face, he knows he can’t, though. Not here, not now. Not with his sister hovering about just downstairs.

Instead, he regards himself calmly, then screws up his mouth and slams his white-knuckled fist against the wall, with as much venom as he can muster.

The bang echoes in the bathroom and vibrates back from the locked door. When he opens his eyes once again, he is confronted with the dead eyes.

Who are you?

This isn’t the Kim Woo Bin that has lived inside him for the past twenty two years. This is someone else.

A dead soul.

Woo Bin turns away from the mirror. He stares down at his bruised fist. The skin is peeled off at some parts of his knuckles and blood is starting to seep out. If Yoo Jin-ah sees it, she is going to have another fit, he thinks looking away from the hand. Then he walks back to his room and opens the medicine cabinet and takes out a tube of disinfectants. He doesn’t want the wounds to get infected, because he doesn’t need any complications with his sister than there already has. She has already been giving him suspicious looks when she learnt he has taken two weeks off his work. Luckily other than a load of paper signing and making phone calls, there wasn’t any important broad meetings or partnership arrangements with new companies yet.

Although his is a dead soul, his body was still alive and that body has attracted people’s attention; he was escorted as a model last year for his father’s company. He had taken on the offer because he needed money; he didn’t want to live off his parents anymore when he had moved out of their home into a two bedroom flat in a further away neighbourhood in Seoul. Why did it have to be two bedrooms? He wonders, though he knows deep down the answer to it—because he is waiting for the owner of that other bedroom to return home someday. Once he had graduated university a couple of months back, his father has offered a managing position at one of the branch offices for the Kim Group. He has never been interested in taking over the company, not before and not now. But he has the feeling his father is trying to groom him toward the CEO’s seat that the old man is currently sitting in. It is their family company, run by his father and uncles after all. He only took the modelling for money and the reason that his face will be shown to the world, known to the world so that…so that he will be…he will be what? He doesn’t think any further than that, because he himself is not ready to accept that answer yet—not yet.

Woo Bin wears a long sleeved shirt before walking down. He stops when he see Yoo Jin cooking something in the kitchen; he pulls the sleeve of his shirt down and covers his wounded hand beneath it.

“Hyung, you are awake?” she asks, giving him a bright smile. He tries to return it, but he can’t find the energy to pull his face muscles into an honest smile. He doesn’t want to pull in a fake grin like he always does in front of the cameras and his clients; because with Yoo Jin it didn’t matter. He could just be his real self in front of her. He didn’t have to pretend to be the model Kim Woo Bin, or the manager Kim Woo Bin; he was her hyung Kim Woo Bin.  

He walks to the fridge and pours himself a glass of water before heading to the kitchen counter and sitting down.

“How is university?” he manages to ask after trying to find something to talk to her about. She plates their breakfast and brings it to him; then sits in front of him.

“Nothing special,” she says. “Oh, there was this new girl I met the other day…” and she goes on and on about stories about the people she met. Woo Bin tunes off his ears to those stories and he just focuses on his food. He has no appetite—not that he ever had for the past few years—but he has to survive, so he forces the food down his throat and gulps some water to send it all the way to his stomach without getting stuck in his throat.

He is glad that Yoo Jin never tries to force him to talk or do things he doesn’t want to do. He is glad he has his sister—he is glad that she is his sister. At times like this, he is thankful that Yoo Jin doesn’t bring up the topic of that letter over three years ago, he is so glad that she hasn’t even brought up the topic even once since then, because if she does, he knows he will not be able to hang on without breaking into pieces and disappearing forever.

Sometimes when he looks at the little girl trying her best to keep her brother alive, he feels bad for her for been a useless brother, he feels sorry toward her. But she never complains, not even once.

“Jin-Ah unni said she is coming to visit tomorrow,” she says when she remembers the call earlier.

Woo Bin his head up at the news; for a moment he seems to be surprised, but his empty eyes shows no emotion, and then he goes back to forcing a piece of fried egg down his throat.

Yoo Jin sighs as she brings their plates back to the sink. How long is it going to take? She wonders as she cleans off and place the dishes to dry.

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