Kwnagmi sorted through the pictures she had taken that eveing of Youngmin and Jin. They were spectacular pictures and the photographer knew the couple would love them. But she didn't feel the same satisfaction and pride from capturing something beautiful. It did't make her happy. There was no giddiness. Neither was there pain and sorrow, thinking that could have been Minwoo and her. Instead she felt... nothing. Kwangmi quickly finished picking her favorites and touched them up. Kevin knocked on the door just as she put the last photo in a file.

Her brother glanced at the screen. "How did the photo shoot go?"

She shrugged. "Well." Then, as if as an after thought, she included, "Jin is very photogenic, but she doesn't know how beautiful she is."

Carefully, Kevin mentioned, "Reminds me of someone else."

A frown tugged at Kwangmi's mouth, but she bit her lip to hide it. "You mean Minwoo." It wasn't a question.

"Have you seen him at all since he got out of the hospital?"

"No."

"Have you talked to him?"

A pause. "No."

"Have you even texted him?" Kevin's voice was a bit more exasperated.

Longer pause. "No."

Kevin sighed. "Kwangmi-"

"I've been busy since school started," she interrupted. Her brother gave her a hard glare and her shoulders drooped, head hanging low. Softly, she admitted, "I've tried. I've started the text. I've pulled up his name to call him. But I can't." Kwangmi looked up tearfully. "I just can't."

He gently picked up her hands and led her to teh edge of her bed. When they were both seated, Kevin wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders. She did't sob like she had at the hospital, but she leaned into his embrace tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. He thought about how to bring up what he wanted to say next.

"Kwangmi, I've noticed that you haven't been the same since... since that night. You know you can talk to me, but... I don't feel like I know what to say all the time."

"Kevin," she interrupted fervently, leaning back abruptly to focus on him, "you are the best brother I could ever hope for."

He smiled sadly, her back. "Thank you. That really means a lot t me. But that's not what I wanted to say." Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Would you consider seeing a therapist? Just to talk about what happened? Maybe they could help."

He waited fearfully for her to respond.

"I don't want to see a shrink." Her voice was cold and hard.

"But, Kwangmi, you have to admit you don't feel like yourself anymore. I've noticed you have been... empty. You're not happy at all. And maybe having someone to talk to about it once a week who can look at the situation clearly, maybe having someone like that will help you."

She was silent for a long while, contemplating. That was a good sign. Finally, she asked, "Did you talk to Mom and Dad about it?"

Kevin hesitated, his stomach knotting, but he admitted reluctantly, "Yes."

"What did they say?"

Again, he paused. "They don't want you to." He didn't say why, though they both knew the reason. They don't want their daughter to be labeled as inferior. Problematic. Broken.

Kwangmi nodded. "Okay. I'll do it."

Stunned, Kevin spluttered, "Y-you will?"

A hard gleam glistened in her eye. "If Mom and Dad say no, it is most likely not what's good for me. So, yes, I will see someone."

Kevin hugged his sister tightly, relieved even while sorrow gripped his heart. That she used such logic was not uncommon for teenagers her age. The pathetic part was that, in this case, it was actually true.

"They love you," he comforted, trying desperately o believe his own words.

"I am too practical and have seen enough to know that isn't true."

He pulled back just enough for her to see his playful expression. "You calling me a liar?" he teasingly accused, desperately attempting to lighten her mood. To make her laugh. He wanted to at least see a twitch of her lips, to catch even a fleeting glance that his carefree, loving, happy baby sister still resided somewhere inside that shell.

But her face remained empty. "No. I think you have far more hope and faith in them than I do." For the first time in weeks, that strong facade crumbled, revealing the loneliness and anguish she had kept bottled up. Her eyes filled with tears, spilling over as she choked out, "And for that I envy you."

As Kwangmi continued to sob, Kevin felt a twinge of guilt. Because he was glad he saw those tears, feel the shuddering of her body.

At least she could still feel.