CHAPTER 46
Meanwhile, back at Kija’s place, Chung-Hee was drinking. Agitated, he tapped his fingers against the glass, muttering something Kija couldn’t understand.
“First of all, nothing happened between us…” Kija began, but Chung-Hee cut him off.
“I know.”
Kija stared at him. That wasn’t the answer he had expected.
“Then why were you jealous?” he asked. “Why did you treat him so harshly? I don’t understand.”
He set a bottle of whiskey on the table between them, along with three glasses. Kija dropped four ice cubes into one and handed it to his friend. Chung-Hee downed it almost immediately.
“You’re asking because you don’t know the truth about him.”
Kija said nothing, but the question was written clearly across his face. Chung-Hee took a breath, as if trying to arrange years of anger, grief, and confusion into something another person could understand.
“We didn’t know each other back then, but you probably know my younger brother took his own life.”
“I suspected as much,” Kija replied quietly. “From things you and Jun have said.”
“My brother was abused by someone.” Chung-Hee stared into the empty glass. “That person did terrible things to him, Kija. Repeated abuse. Physical, psychological, sexual.”
Kija’s expression changed. He couldn’t imagine the weight Chung-Hee had been carrying all these years. There were no words that could make such a revelation lighter, so he simply stayed beside him and listened.
“That person destroyed him,” Chung-Hee continued. “Two years ago, he killed himself too.”
Kija frowned slightly. “And that person was…?”
Chung-Hee’s eyes filled with tears. “Jung Gong.”
The name meant nothing to Kija… until Chung-Hee continued.
“Noeul’s twin brother.”
Kija stared at him. “What?”
“Noeul’s twin drove my brother to suicide,” Chung-Hee said, the words becoming harder now.
“And Noeul was Haneul’s best friend. His best friend, Kija.
Yet he failed to protect him from Gong.” His hand tightened around the glass.
“Do you really think he didn’t know what was happening? How could he not know?”
Kija remained silent for a moment. He thought of Noeul sitting on his couch less than an hour earlier, carefully turning the pages of his younger brother’s portfolio. The paintings of Haneul. The grief in his voice when he spoke of him.
“He told me Haneul’s death destroyed his life,” Kija said carefully.
“It destroyed all of our lives.”
Chung-Hee looked at him. Kija held his gaze.
“If you believe Noeul is partly responsible for your brother’s death, then why are you with him?”
Chung-Hee didn’t hesitate. “I need him.”
“Need him?”
“Yes.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Not because you love him?”
Chung-Hee poured himself another drink. “Love?” He stared into the whiskey. “What does love even mean?”
Kija didn’t answer.
“Is it love when you want to be near someone all the time? When you think of them from morning to night?” Chung-Hee continued.
“Is it love when you can’t stand other people touching them, talking to them, admiring them?
When someone looks at them the way you looked at Noeul tonight and you feel like tearing that person away from them? ”
Kija’s expression tightened, but he let him continue.
“Is it love when you want to be everything to them? When you want to be the center of their world because the thought of them building a life that doesn’t include you makes you feel physically sick?” His voice dropped. “Because that’s what I feel for Noeul.”
Kija studied him. “That doesn’t sound like only love, Hee.”
Chung-Hee’s eyes lifted. “What does that mean?”
“It means wanting someone close to you is not the same as needing control over them.”
For a moment, irritation flashed across Chung-Hee’s face. Then it disappeared. His hand moved unconsciously to the bracelet around his left wrist. He touched it almost nervously, then closed his eyes for a few seconds, as though trying to steady himself.
“I can’t bear that he looks exactly like his brother,” he admitted. “Sometimes I look at him and I see Noeul. Sometimes I see Gong. I know they aren’t the same person, but they have the same face. The same blood.” His voice cracked. “And then I remember Haneul.”
Kija remained still.
“I hate the guilt I carry for wanting him,” Chung-Hee continued. “Why is he still alive while my brother is dead? Why didn’t he stand beside Haneul when he needed him? Why didn’t he stop what was happening?”
The last question came out almost like a plea. Kija had never heard Chung-Hee speak with such depth or raw honesty. The man sitting before him barely resembled the composed, disciplined friend he had known for years.
“So…” Kija began carefully. “You love him and hate him at the same time?”
Chung-Hee looked away.
“Are you sure you hate him?”
“I don’t hate him.”
The answer came immediately. That seemed to surprise even Chung-Hee.
He lowered his gaze. “I hate what happened. I hate his brother. I hate how Noeul reacted to my brother’s abuse. I hate that he didn’t protect Haneul.” His fingers tightened around the bracelet. “And it enrages me that I can’t hate him.”
Kija said nothing.
“To be honest…” Chung-Hee whispered, “I’m not even sure what I feel anymore.”
Before Kija could answer, the apartment door opened.
Jun’s furious voice tore through the silence. “Come here, you asshole!”
Chung-Hee barely had time to turn before Jun crossed the room and punched him.
“Are you satisfied now?” he shouted. “Was he wrong again? Was whatever he did so unforgivable that you had to humiliate him one more time?”
Kija grabbed Jun before he could strike him again and pulled him back. “Jun! Stop!”
Jun struggled against him for a moment before wrenching himself free.
Kija turned toward Chung-Hee, confusion replacing shock. “One more time? What does Jun mean by that?”
Jun paced the room, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked ready to shatter. Opposite him, Chung-Hee stood motionless, his face flushed with rage.
“Oh.” Jun laughed bitterly. “Were you too ashamed to share your little secret with our friend?”
“Shut up,” Chung-Hee snapped.
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“The way I talk to you reflects your behavior,” Chung-Hee barked. “Stay out of my personal life.”
Jun stopped pacing and turned slowly. The room froze.
“It stopped being your personal life the moment you started dragging other people into it.”
Chung-Hee’s expression darkened. “Jun.”
“No.”
It was only one word, but something in Jun’s voice silenced the room.
“You don’t get to shut me up anymore.”
Kija looked between them. Jun’s anger was different from Chung-Hee’s. It wasn’t chaotic. It had been building for months.
“It stopped being your personal business the night you called me because you had sexually abused him and didn’t know what to do afterward.”
Kija went completely still. Chung-Hee’s face changed.
“It wasn’t private when Noeul couldn’t come back to work for a week after you beat him. It wasn’t private when he wouldn’t stop crying because you dragged him to your brother’s grave in the middle of the night and forced him to apologize.”
“Jun, shut up.”
“And it sure as hell wasn’t private when you deliberately tore him apart right after he tried to kill himself and had to undergo surgery on his hand again.”
Kija stared at Chung-Hee, the man who had spent the last half hour explaining his grief, his guilt, his love, his hatred. And suddenly those words sounded very different.
Chung-Hee couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hand onto the table. The glasses jumped, ice shifting against crystal as the sound cracked through the room.
“I told you to shut the fuck up!”
“Don’t you dare blame Jun for your own failures,” Kija said, just as furious. “Are you with Noeul just to torture him?”
For a moment, Chung-Hee looked as if he might collapse. His earlier resolve flickered and dimmed, like a candle in the wind. He turned his gaze away, while digging his fingers into his arms.
“Fine! It’s my fault.” His voice cracked. “Now, let me go to him.”
“Do you really think he’ll want to see you after what you did to him?” Jun replied, his voice calmer now, but no less firm.
Chung-Hee looked at him. “I need to know he’s safe.”
“He is.”
Jun deliberately said nothing more.
“Where is he?”
“He asked to be left alone.”
“Jun.”
“And for once, you’re going to respect that.”
Chung-Hee’s jaw tightened. “Tell me where he is.”
“No.”
Chung-Hee stared at him as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he had heard. Jun had always been loyal to him. He had covered for him, helped him, stood beside him through the worst years of his life.
But this time, Jun didn’t move.
“He told me he’s safe,” Jun continued. “Someone he trusts is nearby. That’s all you need to know.”
Kija glanced between them but said nothing. For a few seconds, the room remained completely still. Then the tension seemed to burn itself out, leaving behind only bitter exhaustion.
Kija stood and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll get us more to drink,” he muttered. “We probably need it.”
Midnight found the three of them still there. Empty glasses crowded the table, and the bottle between them had fallen below half. Chung-Hee sat hunched forward, drowning beneath the sheer weight and complexity of his emotions. Jun had barely spoken for the past hour.
Kija, meanwhile, was still trying to reconcile the friend he had known for years with everything he had learned tonight.
He thought of Noeul, the young man sitting on his couch, excitedly taking notes for his brother.
The shy smile when Kija complimented him.
The paintings of Haneul. The humiliation on his face after Chung-Hee hit him.
Kija liked Noeul. But that was no longer important.
Noeul wasn’t the problem. Kija could see that now. Chung-Hee had carried years of grief and anger into whatever existed between them, and Noeul was paying for it.
“What do you think I should do, Kija?” Chung-Hee asked at last.
Kija looked at him.
“I admit I was wrong,” Chung-Hee continued.
Jun gave a humorless laugh. “You think?”
Chung-Hee glared at him, but Kija raised a hand before another argument could begin.
“If you genuinely want my advice, I’ll give it to you. But I’m not going to tell you what you want to hear.”
Chung-Hee nodded.
Kija leaned back. “I think you love Noeul.”
Jun looked toward him, but Kija continued.
“The way you look at him. The way you think about him, miss him, worry about him. Those things may come from love.” He paused. “But what you’re doing to him doesn’t.”
Chung-Hee’s expression hardened.
“You haven’t forgiven him for what happened to Haneul,” Kija continued. “Maybe part of you still needs someone to blame, and Noeul is there. He has Gong’s face. Gong’s blood. He was Haneul’s best friend. So every time your grief becomes unbearable, you punish the person standing in front of you.”
“That isn’t…”
“Isn’t it?”
Chung-Hee fell silent.
Jun leaned back against the couch, watching his friend carefully.
Chung-Hee grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink. Kija watched him.
“You know he’s suffering, don’t you?”
Chung-Hee said nothing.
“You know he tried to kill himself.”
His hand stopped.
“Yes.”
“Then why hasn’t anyone taken this seriously?”
“He…”
“No. I mean seriously. Professional help.”
Chung-Hee stared into his glass. Again, silence gave Kija his answer.
“You cannot fix this yourself, Hee.”
“I can take care of him.”
Jun scoffed.
Kija shook his head. “That isn’t enough, Hee.”
Chung-Hee looked up.
“He needs psychological support. And after everything Jun just told me, I think you do too.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Kija’s answer came immediately. “I’m saying you’re a mess, Chung-Hee. You miss Haneul. You hate Gong. And you’re punishing Noeul for both. You keep grabbing tighter because you’re scared he’ll disappear too.”
He leaned forward.
Chung-Hee looked away.
“With the way you’re treating him now,” Kija continued, “the first chance he gets, he’ll leave you.”
Chung-Hee slammed his glass onto the table. “I won’t allow him to leave.”
Jun closed his eyes.
“Never,” Chung-Hee continued. “He’s mine. You may not fully understand what I’m capable of, or how far I’ve already gone, but make no mistake: he will stay by my side.”
Jun stared at him. “Listen to yourself.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“He will always be bound to me. Always!” Chung-Hee shouted. “I won’t hesitate to defend what belongs to me against anyone who tries to take him away.”
“No one is taking him from you!” Jun snapped.
Chung-Hee fell silent.
Jun leaned forward. “That’s what you still don’t understand. Noeul isn’t something someone can steal.”
Chung-Hee’s eyes narrowed.
“He is a person,” Jun continued. “He can walk away all by himself.”
Chung-Hee looked toward him.
“You need to deal with what Haneul’s death did to you, before you turn Noeul into another thing you ruin.” Kija paused. “And Noeul needs space to deal with his own grief. He needs help, Chung-Hee. Especially after what you’ve put him through.”
Chung-Hee covered his face with his hands.
“If he heals…”
Neither man answered.
His hands slowly dropped.
“If he heals, he might realize he doesn’t need me. I can’t do that,” Chung-Hee whispered. “If he doesn’t choose me…” He shook his head. “No. I can’t let him go.”
Jun looked at his friend as if seeing a stranger.
“That isn’t love, Chung-Hee. It’s control. You don’t keep someone’s loyalty by taking away their choices. You just make their exit inevitable.”
Chung-Hee said nothing.
“Chung-Hee.”
His friend looked up.
“You’re destroying him.”
Chung-Hee’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
Kija stood. “There’s a psychologist I know. Dr. Seojun Park. I saw him a few times during my divorce. He helped me.”
He crossed to a drawer, searched through it, then returned with a business card.
“He’s very good.”
Chung-Hee stared at the card.
“Take it.”
After several seconds, he did. Chung-Hee stared at the name printed on the card.
Kija headed toward the hallway to prepare the guest room for his two closest friends, then stopped.
“No one is judging you for hurting, Hee.” Chung-Hee lifted his eyes. “But you don’t get to turn Noeul into a canvas for all the things you can’t face.” Kija’s gaze fell to the card in Chung-Hee’s hand. “He’s already paid enough for your grief.”