19. A Bad Person
E veryone has their own problems that vary in their degrees of severity. Some are small, and others akin to a catastrophe. Yunho didn’t agree before. He always believed everything had to be perfect—that he had to be perfect.
When he was five, he wanted to grow up quickly, so he stopped playing around with the other kids and focused on math and reading instead.
At age thirteen, his academic success became effortless. He somehow excelled without studying, unlike everybody else, but he still enjoyed learning.
By the time he turned nineteen, he had already wanted to be an adult and start working. Then, at twenty-one, he wanted to become the brightest star in the sky.
And so he did.
Yunho acquired whatever he wanted with ease.
He was perfect.
Then at twenty-eight, he realized life wasn’t perfect. His best friend betrayed him, shattered his dreams and his heart, and compelled the world to crucify him. For so long, he thought he was the only one suffering. He was wrong.
It has now been twelve hours since Yunho returned home from the hospital.
Twelve hours since he last laid eyes on Wooju.
Yunho longs for his former best friend to magically appear at his doorstep. He longs with such desperation that when he hears the sound of knuckles rapping against his wooden door, his heart skips a beat. He has this idea—the hopeful idea—that maybe Wooju followed him here. Maybe the boy has something to say to him after all.
So, Yunho runs toward the entrance.
Without even looking through the peephole to identify his visitor, he pulls the door open.
And his illusion shatters.
“Sangheon?” Yunho scans his friend’s jaded face, concealed beneath disheveled curtain locks.
“Sup, top student?”
“Are you okay?” Yunho asks, unwittingly inhaling the smell of vodka and cigarettes emanating from Sangheon.
Sangheon sighs, inviting himself in. “I’m really sorry, dude, but I have nowhere else to go,” he says, wobbling as he takes his rubber shoes off and sinks his feet onto Yunho’s black velvet carpet.
Yunho shuts the door behind them, retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, and tosses it toward his drunk friend.
“What happened to you?” Yunho demands while standing a few paces from Sangheon, his arms folded over his chest and his back fixed against the wall. “Did you get dumped? You look heartbroken.”
“Something like that,” Sangheon replies dryly, then takes the lid off the water bottle and drinks it all. “My dad dumped me. Well, he kicked me out, to be exact.”
Yunho freezes. His eyes double in size as he lowers his arms to his sides, quietly empathizing. Why? He wants to ask, but his mouth fails to form the word.
“It’s not even the first time,” Sangheon admits with a wretched chuckle. “But it feels like the first time, when he called me useless and stupid. I wanted to tell him that it’s your fault because you won’t let me copy your homework, but that wouldn’t be fair.”
“Oh. Really?” Yunho arches an eyebrow.
“Hey, top student, do you know why Taehwan and I fought?” Sangheon pushes himself back onto the floor, letting the empty water bottle roll on his right side. “I know it’s petty, but he called me useless, too. He blamed me for recommending you to the team, only for you to reject his offer and bruise his ego.”
“Right. Sorry about that,” Yunho apologizes.
“It didn’t really bother me,” Sangheon adds, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling, his eyes glassy with tears. “But when he said my mom left me because I was useless, I was furious.” He clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white in an instant. “I think... I got mad because he was right. I am useless. My dad thinks so. My mom thinks so, too.”
“Hey,” Yunho says softly. “Don’t say that.” He wants to put a hand over Sangheon’s shoulder to comfort his friend but stops mid-air. Instead, he joins Sangheon on the carpeted floor and listens to his friend’s every word.
I thought... If someone smiles, it means they’re happy and have nothing to worry about in the world.
I was childish. I didn’t know people could wear a smile as a mask as if hiding the pain would eventually make it go away. I thought everyone was supposed to just... shine brightly, and that nothing could ever dull their moment.
“My dad is happy with his new family now. He can’t wait to meet his daughter with Misoo,” Sangheon says, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “My mom is very happy, too. She posts about her day on social media all the time. She tells everyone about how proud she is of her son... and it’s not me. She’s proud of her other son.” His smile fades almost immediately, his mask crumbling to reveal his loneliness. “Here I am, all alone in this gray zone. Being useless. Always at the bottom of the class. Sometimes I think I’m being punished for telling Dad about how Mom cheated on him. Sometimes, I can’t help but hate myself for what I did. You know what I mean? Sometimes, I think I’ll always be a bad person, no matter how much I try to change.”
“You’re not a bad person,” Yunho assures.
“What makes you say that?”
“You were honest and brave,” Yunho responds, emphasizing each word thoughtfully. “How could you be a bad person if you were just being true to yourself? You saved your parents from a bad marriage.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah. Besides, you were there for me from the very beginning,” Yunho adds. “Being a good friend makes you a good person, too. Give yourself credit, will you?”
Sangheon pauses for a fleeting moment, gathering his thoughts as amusement breaks through his somber mood. “Jeez,” he exclaims, brushing away the tears that refuse to cease, “I didn’t know you were so cheesy. Thanks.”
Yunho simply smiles.
“Hey, do I really look that old?” Sangheon asks.
“Huh?”
“I bought alcohol at the convenience store, and they didn’t even bother to ask about my age.”
“Maybe they felt bad because you looked sad.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
Silence gradually overtakes them, and at some point, they recline on the floor to stare at the ceiling, seemingly lost in their own musings. Moments later, the night wears on, and the temperature steadily plummets until it is cold enough to cause discomfort.
Yunho is reminded of his time in prison.
“Eomma.” Yunho’s life used to be bright. He never cried, never even had to beg anyone for anything, and never once doubted himself—until one fateful day when he started questioning everything that seemed wrong in his life.
“Eomma,” he called out for his mom again, his cheeks stained with tears, his voice stuttering over each word. “Why isn’t Wooju coming to see me yet?”
In this memory, he was twenty-six again, back on the prison grounds at the visitor’s center.
The year he was arrested.
Yunho was dressed in his slate blue prison jumpsuit, sitting in front of a table filled with his mom’s homemade kimchi and mandu, temporarily free from the handcuffs.
There were guards around them, two on each corner, and other prisoners were hugging and kissing their families in their own little space.
Yunho didn’t care about privacy at this point. Forget about his reputation; he’d already lost it when his own friend accused him of many unbelievable things.
“Honey, you should eat first,” his mom’s voice rang in his ears. “Wooju wasn’t answering his phone?—”
Yunho couldn’t hear the rest. With him sniffing and rapidly breathing, it was difficult to hear.
He didn’t need to, though. He’d heard enough.
“How do you expect me to eat right now?” Yunho bellowed, squeezing his eyes closed as more tears fell. “He had time to fabricate false evidence against me, but he can’t answer his damn phone? Is he partying while I’m here, wondering what in the hell just happened?”
Yunho’s mom tried in her own ways. She seemed determined to be there for him, always bringing him food even though he’d told her he didn’t want it.
She always listened to him talk, offering him her comforting presence. She tried not to break down in front of her only boy, but seeing him so fragile, so broken from the betrayal, must have made her heart ache more. Yunho could tell she wore a mask, but he was too focused on his own problems and didn’t mention it.
“Eomma,” Yunho called again, his voice quivering as he lifted his bloodshot eyes toward his mom. The pain etched on his face mirrored her own. “Am I really a bad person?”
Yunho noticed the sudden change in her expression. He could almost sense her heart sinking.
“Yunho, honey,” she began, reaching out to him, her voice laced with love and understanding, “you are not a bad person. You have a beautiful soul. You care about your family and friends, and you saved his life, remember? That makes me incredibly proud of you.”
Yunho’s voice trembled once more, his vulnerability laid bare for his mother to witness.
“Then why?” Yunho pleaded, confusion and hurt written all over his face. “Why didn’t he save me, too, Eomma?”
To the person I thought was my best friend, I must have been a very bad person. For him to hurt me like this, I must have hurt him a thousand times more. Isn’t that right, Jo Wooju?