20. A Dark Secret
D ays are usually warm and peaceful in his apartment complex, but not today.
A siren’s blare jolts Yunho from his slumber at barely seven in the morning. The sun’s rays illuminate the room, but he still feels a chill in his bones.
Blinking his eyes open, Yunho scans his cluttered surroundings and feels the ground beneath him, and only then does he realize he’s not in his bed.
Ah, right.
He hasn’t moved from his resting position since accompanying a drunk Sangheon last night. However, when he rolls to his side, the tall boy is no longer there. Yunho’s heart races with urgency as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and dials his friend. Meanwhile, the ambulance sirens in the background intensify his uneasiness.
“Where are you?” Yunho asks as soon as the boy answers.
“Hiding from you out of embarrassment,” is Sangheon’s honest reply.
Yunho lets out a sigh of relief. “But you’re okay, right?”
“Of course, I’m not. I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe I went to see you and not Jihoon,” Sangheon says. “Wait, how did I even know where you live? Did you give me your address?”
Yunho rolls his eyes, annoyed. “You said your dad kicked you out. Do you need a place to stay, or is Jihoon picking you up?” he inquires, brushing off the previous question.
“Hm,” Sangheon hums playfully, “why do you ask? Would you adopt me if Jihoon rejects me?”
“That depends,” Yunho replies. “Now, where are you?”
“I don’t know,” Sangheon admits, his tone uncertain.
“I’m not familiar around here, but... there’s a tree?”
Yunho’s frustration rises. “Okay then,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Describe the tree.”
“It’s . . . tall? Kinda green, kinda brown, too.”
“I’m gonna punch you when I see you. You know that, right?” Yunho warns, his patience almost reaching its limit.
Sangheon chuckles on the other line. “Come on, Yunho. It’s time to stop worrying about me. You should worry about our classmate instead,” he says. “He kinda looked like he needed some help in that video.”
Yunho’s mind pauses for a moment. “What? Who?”
“Jo Wooju,” mutters Sangheon. “The rookie actor.”
Yunho jolts up. “What about him?” he asks, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the phone tightens.
“You didn’t see it?”
What the hell is he talking about? He’s scaring me.
Yunho swallows nervously. “See what? Is he okay?”
“The trending video online,” Sangheon tells him. “It was posted on every social media app last night. Apparently, his manager dragged him out of the hospital even though Wooju insisted he wasn’t feeling better yet. I wonder if he’s okay after passing out like that... Anyway, now there are rumors about his manager forcing him to sign a slave contract or something.”
“What do you mean he passed out?” An onslaught of scenarios races through Yunho’s mind. Did Wooju overwork himself again? Did he skip breakfast and lunch? Or was there something wrong with his lab results after all? As morbid ideas regarding Wooju’s condition invade his consciousness, a wave of worry washes over him. Where was he when Wooju needed him the most?
“Yeah, well?—”
A knock interrupts them.
Unaware of who stands on the other side of the door, Yunho feels a strange sensation—a tether pulling him toward the noise. Not wasting time, Yunho pockets his phone, takes a step forward, and reaches for the doorknob.
Upon swinging the door open, Yunho flinches.
Standing before him is Wooju, all alone, in a sweater too large for his size. His face is drained of color and drenched with sweat, and his blue eyes emit desperation, silently pleading for help. Yunho’s heart sinks at the sight.
Don’t look at me like that, please.
“Yunho,” Wooju whimpers softly, and Yunho’s heart coils tighter at the meek sound.
Don’t say my name like that, either.
“What are you doing here?” Yunho’s eyes narrow as he observes Wooju’s disheveled appearance and shoeless feet.
“You were right,” Wooju mumbles as a tear slides down his cheek. “I’m not okay. I... feel like hell.”
Somehow, the weight of Wooju’s words feels heavier than the memory of Yunho’s agonizing time in prison.
What should I do? If you keep doing this to me, I’ll become weak. I won’t recognize myself anymore.
“I lied to you,” Wooju admits.
“What?” A lump forms in Yunho’s throat.
“I’m sorry...” Wooju’s lips quiver, his voice heavy with remorse and pain as he goes on. “I just wanted to be with you,” he continues, his tears flowing freely as his body shudders with each breath. “It didn’t matter what I had to do, what I had to give up, and what bullshit I had to go through. I did those things because I wanted to see you. I—I was selfish. I wanted to do everything with you, to dream the same dream with you, and reach for the stars together, but...”
But what? What nonsense are you talking about?
“I’m sorry,” Wooju pleads again as he lowers his head in shame. “I’m so sorry I failed you. If I had only figured out how to get you out of this mess, then I wouldn’t have done something terrible to you. I’m really sorry. I... I just wanted to save you. I thought I could save you, Yunho.”
What?
“Please say something.”
Confusion clouds Yunho’s thoughts as he attempts to make sense of Wooju’s words.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying at all, Wooju,” Yunho stammers, his head swirling with questions that could potentially crush him. “What the hell do you mean? What did you do? Who are you?”
Wooju’s voice quakes more as he says, “It’s me... It’s me. Your best friend, Jo Wooju.” He offers Yunho a doleful smile. “I’m sorry for abandoning you, Yunho.”
“What?” is the only word Yunho can say as the old, long-buried memory haunts him in broad daylight.