Third chapter

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Uneasiness: among stormy jealousy and unbearable surprises

 

"If I had forty-six billion won..."

 

"...maybe I would find the courage to stop sabotaging myself and show that hidden side no one knows about."

 

The past is an essential episode in every existence. It is the one that defines origins and establishes personalities. It's a chapter that contains unresolved traumas, platonical affairs or unresolved issues that are still present today. Many are composed of large doses of suffering and incomprehension, but they're also those same nightmares which strengthen us.

 

Unfathomable distresses that contribute to the development of identity and that justify the most primal behaviors.

 

They are the previous pages of a book that shapes a whole life, those already written that can be reviewed with longing or excitement. Even with regret. But not with the intention of being rewritten, since they are memories engraved with an indelible ink on heart and soul.

 

If I possessed the ability to control time, I know I would find decisions to retract or conversations to avoid. I would be tempted to make changes to various episodes, I would give wise advices to my younger self. However, I am also aware that the main plot would continue intact. 

 

Even if I managed to bring the best side of myself to the surface, it would not lead to significant changes because I have already used up all viable options. The future that was supposed to appear in the distance still seems unreachable and the matches are limited.

 

More players, fewer opportunities. And me: lacking aces.

 

While it is true that I have achieved things that previously I could not even realize, they came hand in hand with small disasters.

 

When the universe gives, it also takes. These are the unwritten rules that we tend to ignore and that, in the long run, ask for a bill.

 

Two years ago, I finished putting together the savings to become independent. Jongho, Seonghwa and I moved into a three-bedroom apartment with a kitchen, a bathroom and a living room. Five times more spacious than what I have always known. The next month, a new public health ordinance forced the eviction of entire families residing in my old neighborhood and I had to cover those expenses which public subsidies could not reach.

 

My bank account was left on the brink of ruin. And it still hasn't recovered from the setback.

 

In the middle of this year I graduated with an impeccable academic record and a promising future ahead of me. But without a further specialization for which there are no government scholarships, I can only start climbing from the bottom rung. As I have always done.

 

I've been visiting offices for weeks now that don't bother to call me back, attending interviews that hesitate to bet on a rookie with too little work experience and too many life complications. They give away false hope and flattering smiles that no longer affect me.

 

I would like to be optimistic and make myself aware that I am not the cause of this obstacle. Otherwise, I would also be considered a completely inept at lesser jobs. In the absence of an internship at a law firm, I pour out my disappointments at the fried chicken restaurant where I've been hired full-time. On top of that, some weekends I help out with security at a private compound. 

 

I could resign to a fair salary that would give me enough to eat and survive. But after struggling practically all my youth, I aspire to have something better. What I deserve.

 

With both salaries, I intended to relieve some of the pressure on my shoulders, but my father not long ago tore a ligament on the worksite. Now, not only is there less money coming into the house, but medical bills are piling up.

 

No. My current debts are not to the hospital he is in, but to my roommates.

 

"I'm back." I greet half-heartedly from the doorway. 

 

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jongho's head rise, leaving the TV aside, but I don't have the guts to look him in the face. Neither him nor Seonghwa.

 

"How did it go?" My best friend is wearing that creepy fur pajama I gave him last Christmas.

 

"Honestly, I haven't done anything different from the previous times." I admit with a sigh. "But there's no sensee in leaving the interviews with a good taste in my mouth if it won't work out.”

 

"It will. Sooner or later it will." Seonghwa emerges from the hallway that leads to the dorms with one of those calm smiles. Funny how I used to think of him as a control freak and now I've grown accustomed to living with him. "The key to overcoming difficulties is to make yourself bigger than they are, so they can't get to you."

 

"It sounds too simple, you know?"

 

They haven't had it easy to get where they are either. The computer company Jongho works for took advantage of him for half a year before offering him a permanent contract. Seonghwa, on the other hand, started a small publishing house that required risky investments and has only recently begun making money from it.

 

We all threw ourselves into it, but at the end of the day, I'm still the only one not making a profit.

 

"What is that?" Jongho pushes the remote off his lap to get up and chase me into the kitchen. Deflecting the plastic bag from his grasp doesn't work. "We don't have to do the month's shopping until next week."

 

" The neighbor gave it to me as a gift."

 

"Bull. Again with the same story? I thought we'd cleared this up." It's weird to see him so upset. "Seonghwa, say something too. This blockhead is trying to go on another one of those tap water and cheap ramen diets."

 

"Wooyoung, we agreed that you would start eating healthier." He reminds me, still calm. 

 

By the time I'm aware of it, I'm cornered against the counter. The possibility that I'm taking advantage of their kindness gnaws at my insides.
 

"I'm sorry, I can't," Jongho's critical expression only increases my frustration. "I already owe you enough money and I don't want to add more to that debt," they make an attempt to interrupt me, but I stop them. "No, let me finish first. I know you care about me and all that , but I hate being looked at with pity, I don't want charity. Nor do I want to keep feeling like a ing loser."

 

I know there's no reason to worry, that I won't be blamed for venting some of what I've kept for myself since I was a kid. Not, at least, since I was forced to tell them the truth.

 

Oddly enough, it was Seonghwa who first found out about it because of a phone conversation he should not have overheard. He promised to keep it a secret, but Jongho was quick to approach me with questions as soon as he found out too. It took me a whole afternoon to tell them everything.

 

Contrary to my fears, none of them judged me and they assured me to keep my secret as long as I allowed them to help me. 

 

"Hey, Woo, no one in this house is a loser," the unusual softness in Jongho's eyes makes me certain that at some point the anger has caused tears to well up in my eyes. "Did something else happen? What about your monthly salary?

 

"They have to operate on my father again soon, so I've asked for an advance pay check at the restaurant for it."

 

Seonghwa's hand finds a place on my back, making repetitive circles by way of support. My best friend just sighs, exasperated.

 

"Wooyoung, we know you," I want to retort to remind him that I've been nothing but a liar for most of our friendship and that I don't deserve such care, but Jongho's threatening expression stops me. "And no, don't even think of resorting to that... bull excuse about hiding things and so on. It doesn't matter, we're your friends, your second family. And we have to take care of each other, right, Hwa?

 

"What Jongho means is that we respect that you're determined to do it alone and not depend on anyone, but even the most capable and strongest person needs to lean on others sometimes."

 

The problem is that I've been immersed in these complications for as long as I've been able to count, and I know it won't be temporary.

 

"So stop being so stubborn and get the living room ready." My best friend's smile elicits a snort from me. I can't stand up to them when they manage to strike a chord with me. "We'll get it back. As soon as you pay us back every last won, you'll take us out for expensive steaks. It's the interest on the loan.

 

"I'd rather treat you to four dinners than Yunho to one snack."

 

"I'll just let you remember that I babysat Kyungmin three days in a row this week. I hope my reward is better than Jongho's."

 

Because the key to overcoming difficulties is to become bigger than them.

 

 ೋ•୨✿୧•ೋ

 

The ups and downs continue to be more frequent than expected, however, my philosophy of life is to squeeze as much as possible those moments of ephemeral happiness. Moments to treasure that range from the opportunity to enjoy a sweet treat to get-togethers with my group of friends.

 

As a general rule, the eight of us get together at least two Saturdays a month. Sometimes we meet in the middle of the city for dinner or to attend an occasional event. Other times, we stay at our apartment with the excuse of not being exposed to the cold or for my drained energy to allow me to stay awake for a couple of additional hours. Classical movies, fast food and beer. It reminds me of the old days, even though our adventures have adjusted to adult life. Although I may not be entirely correct, as the partying with huge amounts of alcohol involved hasn't completely disappeared.

 

Tonight I can't hide my exaggerated enthusiasm based on the attendance of my friends and the promise of a heavy drunkenness. For some reason, I find myself overly receptive to that kind of craziness where we will end up disoriented in some corner of the house. Perhaps such sensitivity has been encouraged by the day off from the stakeout, which I'll also get paid for at the end of the month.

 

Or maybe... those suffocating anxieties are linked to a long-awaited meeting with a certain someone.

 

The time I spend interacting with those I appreciate the most has been reduced dramatically due to various chores that have consumed almost all my time. This has affected the frequency of messaging, although it is true that San's replies have been less frequent than usual. I'm not even surprised, he now works in a diving store that also offers a wide range of sports accessories.

 

My impatience will bring out the worst in me at the expectation of catching up, of returning to that warm familiarity.

 

"Woo, bring me one more beer," Jongho asks from the living room. I'm surprised by the demand, but I don't reply. They'll end up emptying the cans as if they contained water anyway.

 

"How do you know she'll like beer?" Seonghwa says.

 

"Who the hell doesn't like it?"

 

The chatter between them escapes my senses, turning into stilted whispers that lose interest outright. My head has taken the liberty of diverting their voices to the area reserved for useless information. That's the thing about focusing on controlling the heart rate that will increase again as soon as I lay eyes on him.

 

"They're here!" They shout at the same time. 

 

"Don't with me... Did all six of them come in Yeo's car?"

 

"That's what it seems like."

 

This is when I notice the second strangeness. The only thing remarkable in that fact must be Kang Yeosang's addiction to violent swerves that make me want to spit bile. It doesn't matter how many times I count or how lousy someone could be at maths because we're supposed to be waiting for just five people.

 

Curiosity sets my feet in motion and they stop when the tips of my slippers touch the wall under the window. More figures emerge from the bluish vehicle than are allowed by the traffic regulations and that directly endanger the safety of the passengers. Something I forget the instant I see emerging from inside what I think I recognize as Yunho's girlfriend, only with a new haircut that isn't her usual long hair and a couple of shades darker. The height and her attire don't match either, but they're not features I'd put my hand on fire for.

 

My close examination is suddenly interrupted by the finger of what I assume to be Mingi's glued to our doorbell for us to allow them access to the doorway. A bad habit that, unfortunately, we have not been able to get rid of.

 

I have a similar feeling to the day I met San or Hongjoong, as I am used to being the only one who is not involved in the most relevant events. But there is no one to blame but my ineptitude in checking the group chat regularly.

 

As they leave the elevator and pass through the door, we greet them one by one. It is barely seven o'clock in the evening and the noise at the entrance is about to exceed the decibels allowed during the day. Fortunately, we have flexible neighbors who are more focused on their own business than on battling loud young people. They didn't even threaten us the night Hongjoong downed a whole bottle of gin by himself and started lecturing the TV woman.

 

"It's good to be home after so many days," announces Yunho, the third to enter. 

 

I'm the one who holds the door and also closes it once all the guests have passed through. The stranger is the last to enter, she does not hesitate to thank me for the gesture with a nod that barely lasts several seconds. I may not be able to master in facial recognition, but unless Yunho's girlfriend has undergone some shocking plastic surgery, she must have been completely replaced by someone else.

 

The young woman stands in the gap between San and Mingi, waiting quietly with an affable little smile. She has that kind of bright, innocent look that seems almost angelic. Not to mention those long eyelashes that are ready to whip up hurricanes just by fluttering. 

 

"First we'd better start with the introductions," Yunho starts. "San, it's your turn."

 

As soon as I see him moving in place, the theories stalking me become terrifying. I'm capable of getting the worst of it at the third weirdness, unable to prevent my mouth from drying up as much as the desert itself. Disconsolated, I try to entertain myself by pulling out my hangnails and breathing too softly so that no one can be aware of how affected I am.

 

"There's no mystery to it," He begins, I can't hold his gaze. I'm just trying to prepare myself to take the most blunt stabbing I've ever taken in my entire miserable existence. "She is Kim Yerim, we are co-workers and also good friends. I invited her so she could meet you."

 

I am forced to turn San's explanation into a reason to calm down, as if my state of mind and the possibility of fainting depended exclusively on him. However, it is Mingi and Yunho who, oblivious to my internal chaos, insist on feeding the nightmares.

 

"See? I told you she was just his friend."

 

"Hear me out, Min, since when do we introduce just friends to each other without partying? You're missing the point here. She's San's special friend" my stomach clenches immediately.

 

Getting back to normal becomes an impossible task, but I don't give in because those two like to joke around too much and San has done nothing but ignore them. So the evening passes without incidents and the voices in my head slowly fade away. I hate to be attentive to every tiny action, every breath or movement, but I give up paranoia when I don't perceive anything suspicious in them.

 

My lack of habit of seeing San so comfortable with people who are not part of the group is ideal for feeding fears. So, in the middle of a living room lit only by the TV and filled with the smell of pizza, I remain slightly uneasy about the open front of possibilities. Yunho, Jongho and Yeosang remain settled on the thick carpet, impossibly close to dinner. Hongjoong and Mingi have taken over the small sofa to our left. And in the centrally located four-seater couch, Seonghwa is in the corner and San is sandwiched between me and his friend.

 

Again, nothing out of the ordinary. And, at the same time, slightly disturbing.

 

I reach an appropriate level of relaxation once the film warns of getting into the of the plot. By then, there are just a couple of bites of barbecue pizza and empty containers that have been replaced by a few cans. It's San's restrained giggles that immediately catch my attention, he's holding back from bursting into loud laughter and he doesn't hesitate to tap me on the shoulder as many times as he finds necessary. It is in moments like this when I remember that unusual comfort we share when we are close to each other, an incomparable sensation that gives me satisfaction and continuous shivers.

 

"Shh, stop it before Hong notices," I whisper. "It's his favorite movie."

 

"And also the stupidest I've seen in a long time."

 

Now I am the one who is deprived of all air at San's comment. I try harder than ever to repress the carbon dioxide accumulated in my lungs so that it doesn't shoot out in laughter. With the most absolute discretion I look at my friend from the corner of my eye, finding a reddened face and  puffed out cheeks. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to give me a glance at the possibility of bursting.

 

The amusement vanishes as soon as an insignificant fact is detected by my eyes in the semi-darkness. At first, I discard it almost immediately because I have tears pooling in my eyes and it has been no more than the glimpse of a ghostly mark. I blink at an unseemly speed, ready to check it out and then, I clearly notice that same purplish brush very close to one of his pronounced collarbones. It's a tiny bruise that is duplicated with a different appearance on the skin behind his ear, almost covered by hair.

 

It would not be something to worry about knowing that San has regular ual encounters like most of us. In fact, I've always been inclined not to dig too deeply into such anecdotes the few times they come up in confidence. That way, at least, I manage to keep those kinds of thoughts under control. I keep them from bringing out the worst in me.

 

The difference, however, is that he never lets himself be marked by his occasional affairs.

 

A fact he admitted during a conversation I shouldn't have overheard, how he dislikes bearing traces of those people he didn't intend to keep in his life and only went to for fun.

 

The obvious hickey turning his skin imperfect causes the blood in my system to not flow from one end to the other because of the drop in blood pressure. My stomach is torturing me as the signs warned earlier come back in to reaffirm what I was determined to deny. As I bend over in an attempt to silently comfort myself, I witness how San's hand resting on the base of the couch has a pinky finger linked to a smaller one.

 

That is all I catch before I lose track of my own actions and lock myself in the bathroom. The mental block I am carrying is such that it takes me quite a while to locate myself and process what is happening, I am barely able to get up from the toilet seat without my knees trembling with exaggeration or without waves of exhaustion hitting me.

 

So I just stare.

 

I look at the space around me like an unwilling doll that has been emptied from the inside. I wish to become one so as not to be burdened with the regret of allowing my crush on San to have reached a point of no return.

 

There is no one blinder than the one who falls prey to his own lies. Nor more wretched than who pretends to bear it without hardship.

 

Apparently, I am both of these things.

 

 ೋ•୨✿୧•ೋ

 

Overcome by discomfort and forced to leave behind the only safe place where I can lock myself away to think, I sink my anxieties with each shot of tequila in the kitchen. I hold on to the belief that as the substance in my body increases I will stop feeling at all. But the sensitivity I carry pushes me to believe that I will end up breaking down at any moment, when I least expect it. As if the displeasure I suffer could even get worse.

 

Curious glances stalk me in the distance once they notice my missing, uneasy questions come from those who return to refill their drinks. My nonchalance works, because I get them to leave me alone. I am still focused on the mission of analyzing the actions of those who have ripped open my chest without realizing it.

 

The last one to try to get information out of me was none other than Jongho, and although I am aware that he does not deserve such unfair behavior from me, I prefer to ignore other people's feelings when I am unable to deal with my own. Frustrated, he ends up going back to the others and taking what's left of my bottle with him, convinced that it will help me.

 

The night goes on and on and my friends persuade each other by claiming that my preference for isolation is backed up by fatigue or personal issues that, as my roommates understand, I cannot reveal.

 

They are leagues away from the truth, but I am rather willing to leave it at that and wait until the party is over for them to go home.

 

I am naive to think that the discomfort will calm down, that it will soon pass. Something like that is not possible when a few meters away San continues to be immersed in his own world, one in which I have never had a special place. The instant I turn my gaze back to him to dig into the wounds, he turns in my direction and smiles before deciding to approach me.

 

What makes him think I'll want to talk to him when not even my best friend has managed to get more than three words out of me? What right does he have to enter my zone after tearing me apart from the inside?

 

It drives me mad that even under these circumstances he seems to know how my mind works, that he acts as if he knows for a fact that he is the only person in the universe to whom I can deny nothing. The one for whom I would throw myself headfirst off a fifth floor as many times as it takes without doubt.

 

Deep down I want him to give me attention, to figure out my sadness and then try to convince me that it's nothing more than unfounded jealousy fueled by countless years of secretly loving him. But I know that's not the reality and that talking to him right now will probably lead to a fight.

 

I can't be sure that I won't end up venting on him the significant amount of fury and disappointment still inside me.

 

Choi San will end up getting burned if he gets too close to a volcano about to erupt.

 

"Hey, Woo, everything's okay over here?" My name in his mouth sends shivers down my spine and increases the anger at my inability to be affected by him. "You were gone before finishing that piece of crap movie. Which I don't blame you for, you know what I mean, but I haven't seen you again until... well, until now."

 

This San tries to overcome his concern for people with the drunkenness that follows him. He tries hard to show normality as he walks in the direction of the table I'm at, however, while he fails to go unnoticed in that way, there's nothing I can hold against him when I can't even see myself able to get out of my chair without collapsing. He's lucky I manage to process what he says.

 

My lack of response prompts him to sit down on the wooden board, specifically, in front of me, blocking my view.

 

"The boys say you've had a rough week, you look pretty tired." The exhaustion is a relief compared to what he's doing to me. The reality hit he has just given me has been as accurate as it is forceful, worse than any torture. Selfish, moreover, for daring to invade my personal space in order to further explore the wound with an innocent expression. "Wooyoung?"

 

"Two hours." I manage to say. Or I try to, because my scratchy throat gets in the way. And I'm not too keen on checking if he's understood either.

 

"What?" I refuse to repeat it because I'll end up throwing reproaches at him based on irritation and indirect rejection. San is insistent, even more than me. So he's seconds away from grabbing my chin and forcing me to connect our gazes. He's trying to read me, I know. Maybe a part of me wants him to succeed in his purpose so that he can face my deep disappointment without having to materialize it. "Wooyoung, what do you mean?"

 

"It's been two hours since I've been out of the bathroom, you've had plenty of time to come and ask me before" the bitterness climbs swiftly up my throat. I have become a harmful, poisonous creature. "I don't want to talk to you or anyone else, San."

 

There is a Wooyoung inside me that cries out in pain, unable to stop the irrationality taking over me. He is terrified of that frightening outcome in which I end up all alone; heart shattered and with no one able to pick up the pieces. Unfortunately, my mind is too clouded and obfuscated to worry about the consequences.

 

San's astonished expression drops from a friendly face to a stern one. Thus, the digits still on my chin tighten even more, indicating to me that he was not willing to give in to reproaches like that.

 

"A real pity because I want us to talk. And no, you're not moving from here until you tell me what the is wrong with you."

 

The attempt to refuse whispers persistently, but if I couldn't stand his presence, then I would have already pushed him away from me. Therefore, the blame for the fact that he remains expectant rests only on me. And I just don't think I'm ready to make San hate me.

 

"It's... indigestion." I'm not convinced if my acting skills have lost their effectiveness or if it's him who has gained experience in detecting lies, because I know he doesn't believe me.

 

"Try again. Without lies this time, if possible" the density of his gaze hides a whole solar system behind it, one that would not be possible to explore in a single lifetime. "I've known you for... six? seven years? I've even held your hair while you threw up, and I changed your clothes when the fever wouldn't let you move. Woo, you don't act this way when you're unwell."

 

My body shudders at the strength of these statements, because of the memories to which they are linked. Every moment adding to my fondness for him. The maturity he is showing is not typical of someone with so much beer in his system, but that doesn't stop him from doing a good job. His words are so warm and persuasive that I even consider throwing myself into his arms to release every anguish I've experienced, every displeasure I've felt. I want San to comfort me as I know that neither Jongho nor anyone else can ever do.

 

But that is not possible. One of us will lose patience with each other before the meeting is over.

 

"Would you have told me two hours ago?" he resumes the conversation, trying to extract confessions from me.

 

"Who knows."

 

"Come on, Woo, don't make it so hard for me." he pleads with a half-smile. "I would have liked to come and talk to you earlier, but I thought it was better to wait...."

 

"Who's the one lying now?" I interrupt him. "You didn't come sooner because you were busy taking care of your new friend." his eyes light up as if they contained fireworks. They are filled with dangerous sparkles that last only a few seconds.

 

"She doesn't know anyone, and we're both aware of how intense others can be. I had to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable," he explains, glancing quickly at Yerim. He's still the same good person I know, the one who charmed me. The one I'll end up destroying with my arrogant behavior because I don't know how to deal with the fact that he insists on caring so much for someone who isn't me. "Wait. Wait a moment" my silence gives him minutes to think and perhaps he has been clever enough to tie up some of the loose ends. After all, I'm embarrassing myself. "Does this have something to do with Yerim?"

 

Enough interrogation, I have no strength left to expose my withered soul in its entirety. As soon as he sees what I look like, he will reject me. So I stand up so decisively that the chair shoots backwards, barely keeping the balance.

 

"No. And I've already told you that I don't feel like talking about it, San."

 

I try to run away as fast as my feet allow me in order to lock myself in my room and melt into the mattress, but a powerful hold in my forearm prevents me from doing so. And when I come back from my confusion, he has me pinned by the shoulders against the wall.

 

"Are you deaf or just very tough-minded? You're not getting the hell out of here until you make it ing clear to me what the is wrong with you, Jung Wooyoung," my attempts to break free are as unsuccessful as my lies, because after all, I'm drunk and San is still taller and more powerful than I am.

 

I sigh in exasperation. Does he want to find answers that badly? Well, then he'd better get ready because I don't plan to take responsibility for what comes out of my mouth.

 

"Are you dating?" I don't hesitate asking, I'm so fed up that I'm shooting him a glare with my eyes.  

 

"W-what?" I could take advantage of his bewilderment to run away, but I decide to stay. "What the does that have to do with anything?" Everything. Something so insignificant for him reflects a real hell for those whose feelings are not reciprocated. "If it bothers you that I didn't tell you about her before the others, just know that...."

 

"San. I asked you a very simple question. Answer yes or no." I stop him.

 

He averts his gaze as if he is thinking to the millimeter what answer to give, which makes me doubt that he is going to be honest. As merciless as I am, the organ in my chest is beating wildly.

 

"No. We're not dating," he's sincere, but that's not what I'm looking for. And since he's determined to pull my tongue out, I won't back down.

 

"I'll rephrase the question. Do you like her?"

 

"I don't understand what this is all about, Wooyoung."

 

"San, do you like her?"
 

"Yes," he blurts out, annoyed. "That's what you wanted to know? There you go, yes, I like her. Now explain to me the reason why you're acting like this because I don't understand a ."

 

"No, of course you don't." The confession that barely enters my ears is all it takes to break me down. There's no self-control left, no fear. I glare at San before giving him a push that sends him back a few steps. I'm not done with him. "How the are you going to understand, huh? Have you ever really cared about me?"

 

"You know as well as I do that you don't think like that, and even if it was true, at least I'm trying hard to understand you, you know?" he's on the verge of collapse, I can see it in the tightness of his jaw.

 

"Well, then you're really bad at it."

 

San's limbs lose flexibility, announcing to break at the wrong movement. Maybe this fight is all I need to finish turning the page once and for all, although I didn't plan for it to get so out of hand.

 

"I'm not the one acting like a ing immature kid," he says. It's the frustration talking, his longing to help me and not succeed. "Do you want me to understand you? Then be clearer because there's no one in the whole ing universe able to read your mind, Wooyoung."

 

Those cutting words make me frown even more. He has pressed the self-destruct button I reserved for myself. Now, I will explode and he will be dragged into my darkness. He will be lucky if he survives to fix the mess later.

 

Escape is out of the question. I walk towards him with determination.

 

 

"If I had..."

 

 

"Oh, really? Because I doubt you'd get it even with the ability to read my thoughts. Neither you nor the others. Or do you still think so, Choi San?" my sharp tongue has a life of its own and is as lethal as a snake. "Tell me, what do you know about me? Do you really know me at all?" His doubt gives me satisfaction because I am looking for reactions and I am so focused on the moment that I don't give a damn if anyone can hear us. With each pause, I take the opportunity to stab him in the chest with my index finger. "You're not going to say anything? Oh yeah, that's because I'm right. You have no idea who I am or what I've been going through," the last shove sends him crashing into the fridge. "And you still have the guts to call yourself a good friend when you've never been one. Bull."

 

These last words are the ones that end up breaking him down. The shaped features of his face take on an intimidating and regretful, disappointed look. The damage I have caused him, however, is not even a tenth of what I will have to deal with from this day on.

 

San pushes me back, causing me to stumble without falling.

 

" you."

 

 

"If I had forty-six billion won, I'd put every bill toward creating a machine capable of erasing my memory and getting San out of my life."

 

 

But I attack him again because I haven't finished breaking our relationship nor have I gotten to vent everything I've been holding inside.

 

" you, ."

 

From one moment to the next, without really understanding a thing, we rush straight into an irreparable breaking point. The worst thing is that none of us care anymore. We end up locked in a battle of increasingly violent pushes aimed at putting the opponent away and making the other hit the kitchen furniture. Bumps that will remind me in the coming weeks of the two big mistakes I've made tonight; letting myself get carried away with insecurity and venting it on San.

 

 

"But I know that's impossible, that there's nothing capable of turning off my feelings for him."

 

 

"What the are you doing!" I don't get to see Yeosang's alarmed expression because I'm busy grappling with the person I love most in the whole world. But his tone of voice speaks for itself.

 

"MINGI, COME HELP ME, !" I hear Yunho shout behind me.

 

"THEY'RE GONNA KILL EACH OTHER!"

 

"Stop being so dramatic, Hwa. They didn't even come to fists yet." Hongjoong adds.

 

"Hey, you two, enough."

 

San doesn't take his eyes off mine despite being held down by a Mingi who is twice his size. Our chests desperately seek air, trying to make up for the energy wasted trying to submit the other.

 

 

"That's why..."

 

 

"What the... hell happened so that you two ended up like this? Are you five-year-olds unable to talk?" complains Yeosang. I can't stand being the target of their stares, I feel like I'm being judged and that's the last thing I need, no matter how much I deserve it.

 

"Ask him about it, maybe he will tell you, because, apparently, being a good friend is not my thing", San's reproachful remarks tighten my chest, something I thought impossible at this point. I've always had the impression that it wasn't easy to hurt someone like him, but I've managed to turn him into the disturbed and tormented young man I see in front of me.

 

"Wooyoung?"

 

I open my mouth with the intention of clarifying something, but my eyes chase after Kim Yerim who has made his way into the group. He has San's hand held between his own and is watching him as if she is silently asking him to calm down again. They are so perfect for each other that the thought of having to endure such scenes every time we meet disgusts me.

 

"I have nothing to say," Yunho releases me at the vestiges of a retreat and I manage to lose myself in the hallway. There's no better option than to sink into my own misery to stop messing everything up. Otherwise, I'll be stuck with too many things to fix and I won't even know where to start.

 

The guests leave the apartment in the next fifteen minutes. Right after that, I hear knuckle taps against the surface of my door. Jongho steps in without permission, ready to sit on the edge of the mattress, but I don't turn to face him. I don't want his disappointed expression to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep. With San's one I'll have enough to deal with over the next few months.

 

"Woo, I won't force you to talk about it, not now. But I hope you'll end up doing it at some point. Believe it or not, I have an idea of what happened, you know? I know the way you've always looked at San, it's not a secret to me." Funny that he can come to such romantic conclusions and not those regarding the rest of the mysteries surrounding me. "So I understand that you're hurt... or angry. Maybe both. Either way, that thing that just happened is the biggest -up you've ever made in your life and you're going to have to fix it sooner or later. I'm not saying you have to do it alone, I'll help you. But keep it in mind because it can't remain that way."

 

 

"If I had forty-six billion won, I would spend a large amount of that money to settle all the unfinished business in Seoul. Family, friends, debts. Then I would travel to the other side of the world, to a place where no one knows me and where I could start from zero."