case 01

chapter 07: l e a n  o n  m y  s h o u l d e r

“So, how’s this going to work?” Wendy asked, one hand on her hip, the other desperately fanning herself. It was one of those hot, sweltering days where she could feel the heat burn through her tennis shoes, when she wanted summer to just be over and done with.

Johnny turned to look at her. His tennis racket was over his shoulder, and his shoulder-length blonde hair –the fad of the season– was up in a man-bun on his head. “We split into three pairs. Each pair plays against each other once, and the pair with the least wins will buy dinner.”

Yuta’s eyebrows were in a confused knot, as they always were. “What if we each win one round?”

Jungwoo waved him off. “Not happening. Anyone saddled with Wendy is losing all the rounds, without a doubt.”

“Hey!”

As Wendy chased Jungwoo around the court, trying to bludgeon him to death, Yuta glanced at Johnny – he was clearly still confused. “Well, what if one pair wins all the rounds, then?”

“Christ!” Johnny groaned impatiently. Between the incessant heat beating down and the incessant questions being bombarded at him, he was about to lose it. “We’ll figure it out when that happens. Can we just decide the pairs first?”

They managed to get Wendy and Jungwoo to stop trying to rip each other’s throats out. Squinting away from the sunlight, Jaehyun nudged the distracted Seulgi, and they were the last to stick their fists into the middle.

“Rock, paper, scissors!”

Their hand signs are a random mishmash of all three the first time, so they tried for a few more rounds until everyone coincidentally chose ‘paper’ – everyone except for Yuta, the lucky .

Yuta took a moment to blank out and register his win, before erupting in exhilarated shrieks. The rest said their silent prayers. “I pick…” He paused for the imaginary drumroll. “…Johnny!”

The air was filled with a flurry of boyish cheers and muffled groans. “That’s not fair!” Wendy complained, stomping her foot. “You guys are going to win everything!”

“Anyone who plays alongside you will have it unfair, anyway,” Johnny winked. He hopped out of the way before she could kick him in the shin.

The other four held their breaths in anticipation and tried again. One try, two tries, three tries – Jaehyun’s ‘rock’ beat all the other ‘scissors’. Jungwoo and Wendy lowered their hands, throwing him pleading looks – having picked up tennis recently, Jaehyun was one of the better players, and he also had more enough money in his bank account to cover the whole group’s dinner if he lost.

He didn’t need to deliberate. “Seulgi,” he said immediately.

“I’m stuck with Wen?” Jungwoo gaped. “ my life!”

Jungwoo crumbled to the ground, doing a mental count of his planned expenditure for the month. Wendy took it as an extension of whatever insult he had pulled earlier on and picked up their fight where they left off. Seulgi pressed her lips into a thin, hesitant curve that Jaehyun wasn’t sure was even a smile. She shifted next to him, hauling her tennis bag. Her eyes were glazed over, staring at the expanse of the court, the sky, or perhaps nothing at all.  

Sungchan stared at her – the pensive, distracted, twenty-one-year-old Seulgi immortalized in the picture on Jaehyun’s shelf. He was sitting in Jaehyun’s office, on a velvet chair Sooyeon had imported from Italy and refurbished in Spain. But other than a few unnecessary touches made by his meddlesome sisters, Jaehyun’s office was mostly empty. His only self-chosen ornaments were three frames on his bookshelf: him and his family at his college graduation, him and his five soi-disant best friends at the start of that tennis game, and him and Seulgi’s winning shot at the end of that game.

The graduation picture must have been self-explanatory, or Sungchan wouldn’t have just skipped to the next. “Your friends in college, Dr. Jung?” Sungchan asked.

Jaehyun nodded politely. Sungchan’s line of sight shifted again. Jaehyun already knew what he was going to ask – the same question his family, his friends, even his clients had been asking for years.

“Are you and Lawyer Kang–?” He paused, probably trying not to seem rude and intrusive, though he already was.

“No,” Jaehyun replied curtly. “Just friends.”

Honestly, it was high time he changed his choice of pictures on display. They weren’t particularly special, and he didn’t like them too much, anyway. But, printed, perfectly rectangular photographs were part of an antiquated practice only remembered involuntarily by people like him – people who were frozen in time, either unwilling or too lazy to move on. Jaehyun was more of the latter, which irked him every once in a while, but then again, he couldn’t really be bothered to bother.

Jaehyun settled into his seat. “So, how can I help you?”

Sungchan clasped his hands together and placed them on his lap. He took in a deep breath, probably trying to structure the mess of his life into a coherent story. It was a story, Jaehyun knew – it would be anything but coherent, but a story nevertheless.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, my parents are getting a divorce,” Sungchan started.

Of course, Jaehyun was aware. The entire Seoul was aware, as a matter of fact. The question was why his awareness was important. “Yeah,” he nodded.

He stared at his palms. “I don’t know how much you’ve seen from the papers, or how much Lawyer Kang has told you,” he said reluctantly, “but it’s been quite a…”

“–Circus,” Jaehyun replied, finishing his sentence. Sungchan probably wanted him to finish it, anyway. It was a frank answer, perhaps too frank, but the boy didn’t look too young to handle the truth, and Jaehyun wasn’t the type of person to beat about the bush unnecessarily.

Sungchan emitted a nervous laugh. His expression faltered a little, but he quickly gathered himself. “They weren’t always like that,” he said, forcing a smile. “Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t an arranged marriage or anything of the sort. They met in college, fell in love, and crossed many hurdles to eventually get married.” He coughed softly. “Obviously, things are quite different now.”

Jaehyun kept silent, eyes fixating on the boy. Sungchan was doing a great job in keeping himself together, but the cracks in his voice and the twitching of his cheeks were giving him away. Jaehyun was yet to form a helpful opinion, so he just nodded, cuing Sungchan to continue.

“I’ve read online,” he said, and Jaehyun had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “that there are ways that therapy can help couples stay together by reminding them how they got together to begin with.”

 Jaehyun wondered which obscure, half-assed, nearly bankrupt gossip magazine was still touting relationship therapy and the “good ol’ days” as miracle cures for relationships at the brink of falling apart. Where Jungwoo would have nodded empathetically, told stories of past successes, and provided unfaltering words of encouragement, Jaehyun would’ve just thrown up and called it a day. But the boy had pretty sad eyes, so Jaehyun figured he could listen to his case for a while more.

“Look, I know I’m asking for a lot,” Sungchan said, lowering his head. “I know that they’re not saints – they’ve done some pretty horrible things to each other. I know things won’t be able to go back to the way before. I just… I just want them to remember what they had before it’s all gone.”

Jaehyun folded his arms. Having fond memories would never be a sufficient reason to stay in an unhealthy relationship, especially by the likes of Yunho and Boa – Jaehyun had seen the looks Johnny and Seulgi’s faces long enough to know what kind of case it was. If the couple showed up at his clinic, Jaehyun might have just referred them straight to Johnny and Seulgi’s.

He knew it was the kid’s last-ditch attempt to pick up the broken pieces. He had been there before.

Sungchan looked up, gazing at Jaehyun nervously. “So, can you help them, Dr. Jung?”

“Well,” Jaehyun said, “unfortunately, I can’t decide that right now, Sungchan.” He could see the boy’s expression darken. “Usually, the couple in question have to be the ones to request my help.”

Sungchan paused. He deliberated the thought quietly. “If I manage to make my parents come here,” he said, “would you be willing to help them?”

 “I can’t make any promises,” he replied, exhaling slowly. “But I’d realistically run the usual preliminary assessments.”

Immediately, Sungchan’s eyes lit up. Jaehyun heaved a low, tired sigh. Johnny was definitely going to stone him to death.

He looks stupid as – was Wendy’s first thought when she saw Yuta in a blue-and-pink neon suit, peacock feather earrings, and something that looked like an 18th century bonnet. The only thing keeping her from vocalizing her thoughts on his fashion sense –or lack thereof– aloud was the presence of his customers, and the potential of her possibly diminishing his credibility in front of them. Not that she gave two s about them also thinking he was crazy – if he made less money because of her, she knew he would cut her commissions and possibly send Johnny and Seulgi over with a defamation lawsuit.

Wendy didn’t need that kind of trouble in her life at the moment, so she decided it was fine for her not to call out his stupidity for just one of the many days in their odd friendship. She strode through the store, waving at Renjun and Chenle and throwing them snacks, eventually parking herself on one of the empty couches in one of the relatively enclosed alcoves.

“Hey,” Yuta called, strutting towards her like he was walking down a catwalk. She wondered if he thought he was a model. “You’re early.”

Wendy started unpacking the array of takeout boxes she had procured. “The others are not,” she sniffed. “Johnny and Seulgi are working their case, Jungwoo probably has twenty other appointments, and I’ll bet you my firstborn that Jaehyun is napping in his office.”

“ them,” Yuta said. He plopped next to her and helped her set up their spread, his nose perking up at the scent of food. “Did you get fried rice?”

“Yep,” Wendy nodded.

He eyed her. “Did you get extra crabmeat for me?”

“Yep,” she repeated, “and extra eggs and chili, with the fried dumplings on the side.”

“This is why I can only trust you,” Yuta said, sighing in contentment. The others were always so preoccupied with their clients that they rarely gave a flying about their friends – well, except Jaehyun, who didn’t really give a about anyone. Sometimes Seulgi, but that was about it.

Wendy picked up her box and a pair of chopsticks, completely unfazed by his sentiment. “You owe me twelve-thousand won, by the way,” she said. Yuta nodded, and dove headfirst into his food. “How’s work coming along today?”

“Alright,” Yuta replied. He had two spoonfuls of fried rice and an entire dumpling in his mouth – Wendy wondered how she could make out whatever he was even saying. “The usual drama. Oh, but there was a bride today who tried to make her family go above their budget for the dress.”

Wendy raised her eyebrows sharply. “That’s rude. So, what happened?”

Yuta shrugged. “I mean, if she asks for it, we’re not at the liberty to decline her request. So, we had no choice but to bring out the dress, and maybe try to hype up the cheape