JKA 91

The running time of less than 20 minutes felt like an eternity. When the movie ended and the auditorium lights brightened, everyone gave a round of applause. Hearing the cheers, Jiwoon went up to the stage with a dazed expression and spotted 17 in a corner of the sparsely filled back seats.

17 was clapping and staring at Jiwoon, then at some point, he vanished as if by magic. During the short question-and-answer session, Jiwoon just stared blankly at that empty seat. He would occasionally stammer out answers to questions, but he could not even remember what he had said.

Heechan kept introducing Jiwoon as the lead actor, and Young-eun, who was in charge of the script, did the same. No one remembered Egarsia. Except for Hanbyeol and himself, everyone had forgotten him. Just as he himself had forgotten Zeo.

“…Aren’t you hungry?”

It was his dad who broke the silence. Jiwoon, who had been thinking of Zeo while watching the scenery flash by, turned his head. As he did, his eyes met his dad’s, who was glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“I-I’m fine. Ah, what about you, Dad?”

“I ate dinner before I left. It’s fine if you’re not hungry. I’ll drop you off in front of your place and go.”

“Y-you’re leaving right away?”

“…I have to.”

His dad checked his mom’s expression as if he were testing the waters. Jiwoon, too, found himself looking at his mom’s profile. With her head turned as if she were tired, she had been silent, but then she spoke in a voice that sounded somehow sunken.

“I’m just going to see how he’s getting by.”

“…”

“That’s why I came up here.”

An awkward atmosphere once again flowed through the car, and his dad, as if finding it hard to bear, started asking all sorts of questions. They were mostly about what his university life was like. They were trivial questions, like whether his major was a good fit, or if there was anything else that was uncomfortable. Yet, he did not bring up the movie at all.

The uphill walk from the school to his studio apartment was steep, but it was a short distance, so the conversation was not very long. When the car stopped in front of a lone-standing streetlight, Jiwoon got out first and led the way. First floor, second floor—after climbing the stairs for a while and arriving in front of his door, Jiwoon took a deep breath and opened the front door.

He had thought he would never have to let his parents into this home again. He had not stopped the two of them when they left as if being chased, as soon as the move-in was finished. Looking back, they had seemed terrified. They had been like that ever since Jiwoon had emerged after being holed up in his room for a long time.

And so, with that moving day as their last, the couple had stopped visiting the studio apartment and did not even call to see how he was. Jiwoon found that more comfortable, so he did not bother to contact them first. Only after a year had passed like that did he finally resolve to let them into his home.

Unlike his dad, who entered leisurely and stood still to look around the inside, his mom went straight to the kitchen. She made a slightly surprised expression at its neat appearance, which did not look like it had been cleaned in a hurry, and then yanked open the refrigerator door.

“You cook for yourself?”

After confirming that there were ingredients like eggs and tofu, she looked at Jiwoon as if she could not believe it.

“…Yeah.”

“…Why didn’t you ask me to send side dishes? You bought these two, didn’t you?”

His mom’s expression was somehow murderous as she unerringly singled out and pulled out a couple of basic side dishes bought from a side dish shop, as if she were a psychic. Jiwoon did not give any reply. It was because that expression was intensely familiar.

It was the expression she always made when she was grilling and pressing him. Looking at that face asking if he really did not know anything, his throat would tighten up and no words would come out. Seeing Jiwoon purse his lips and turn his gaze away, his mom shot up and yelled.

“Why aren’t you talking again? You were so talkative before, why.”

“Honey.”

“Stay out of it!”

Seeing his mom’s irritated expression as she yelled, his dad turned away completely, as if he knew this would happen. Everything he had believed was distantly far away was happening again right before his eyes, and Jiwoon’s head began to ache.

“What on earth is it that you want to say? You contact us for the first time in a year, and the only thing you show us is that kind of crappy movie? With your mom and dad sitting right there, huh?”

“…”

“How dare you show something like that to your mom and dad? What did you want me to say while I was watching that? You lock yourself up in the corner of your room, make me into a complete fool, and you get to do whatever you want in life, just as you please, so what more do you want?”

“…”

“How much more do I have to put up with you!”

Her face was a mess as she spit out all the words she seemed to have held back, as if she had made up her mind—asking if he would be satisfied only if she went so far as to beg him to accept the side dishes she would send, asking if he was protesting right now. Jiwoon was seized by many emotions as he looked at his mother’s sobbing face.

He could not discern and comprehend every single one of her complex feelings. He did not have the peace of mind for that, nor could he fully understand her situation. He and his mom had both experienced the loss of a family member, but there was bound to be a clear difference in the weight of it.

“…Can’t you just cut me some slack?”

“What?”

“I-I’m not even asking for an, an apology. Just cut me some, some slack, c-can’t you.”

It felt as if his violently pounding heart would be thrown up out of his mouth at any moment, but Jiwoon swallowed it down with great effort and spoke.

“I, I just wanted to show you that I’m li-living w-well. That I’ve gotten a bit be-better.”

“…”

“That’s why I contacted, you.”

What Jiwoon wanted to show was not the story of other people seen in the movie, but simply Jiwoon himself. That was all there was, which was why he had called the two of them without considering all the other possibilities. There was no other intention.

He wanted to show that he was not alone, that he was not the person who could not do anything, but that he was living a moderately good life, getting along with others normally. That he was okay now, that they did not have to worry so much. That he could mix in with people and live at least as well as they did. That was all he wanted to convey.

“If you’d just see me as, as I am…”

“You ask me to see you, and you show me something like that? What did your mom do that was so wrong?”

“You said he died because of me.”

“…”

“You said it with your own mouth that hyung d-died because of me!”

“…”

“I, I put up with that and still called you, s-so why can’t you put up with this, Mom!”

Jiwoon poured out the story he had buried deep inside himself like vomit. Like a person suffering from a terrible hangover, only painful words came out each time he retched. But he had to get it all out.

“S-saying it was b-because of me, and trying to m-make me like hyung. And Dad, kn-knowing all of that, always p-pretending not to know like this.”

“…”

“I, I haven’t resented you for, for that all this time. Let’s, let’s just cut each other some, some slack. It’s just the th-three of us.”

“…”

“Why would I call you, Mom, to fight? All the way to Seoul, why.”

Jiwoon reached out and took his mom’s hand. She did not pull her hand away, but she did not look at Jiwoon either. The small room with all the windows closed was muggy, but the tips of his mom’s hand that he held were cold. Jiwoon only now realized that fact.

His dad, who had been watching the two of them without doing anything, carefully stepped in between them and pulled his mom in by her shoulder. Then, with his other hand, he patted Jiwoon’s shoulder.

“…Call sometimes.”

With the hand that still held Jiwoon’s warmth, his mom continuously wiped her wet face. His dad took care of her and headed out the front door. Until the very moment the door closed, his mom did not say anything else. Jiwoon simply saw his dad off, who said he would call when they arrived.

Click. As soon as the sound of the door closing and the door lock engaging ended, Jiwoon’s legs gave out and he slowly sank to the floor. Should he have stayed silent like he always did? Had he been too cruel to the two people who still had not cleared out his brother’s room? He kept agonizing over it, but there was no right answer.

*

Nothing was ever magically resolved. Jiwoon, who had bought a couple of cans of beer from the convenience store, dragged an old chair from a corner of the rooftop and plopped down onto it. Whine, whine. He took out his vibrating cell phone and saw it was full of messages from the club members telling him to join the after-party, even if it was late.

Jiwoon looked over the messages, but instead of replying, he pushed the phone back into his pocket and popped open a beer can. As he drank the cold beer and looked at the sky, the world was so bright that the stars were not clearly visible.

Come to think of it, everything that had happened to him until now had been unrealistic. The very idea of an angel suddenly appearing one day to save a messed-up life did not make sense. Most things would probably be like today.

Just as Zeo had suddenly disappeared from his side one day, some of the people by his side now would be forgotten without him even knowing they had left. Or, like with 17, there would be times when he could not express his gratitude even if he knew the end. And, like just now, there would surely be some relationships that would not change easily even if he said everything.

So many things had been resolved too easily in the meantime, and most of the tasks left for him were not very difficult problems, so he had been able to enjoy them and move on. People had to accomplish far too many things on their own. The more he realized that fact, the more a vague fear washed over him. It was because it felt like, in the end, he had not accomplished anything by himself.

Jiwoon looked at the sky and counted the few stars. In truth, it was not that they were not there, but that they were not visible because the city lights were too bright. He, too, had as many moments as those unseen stars. They were the images of Izeo that only he remembered in this world.

It would have been nice if he had known at least one thing that he liked. If he had, there would have been countless things to do besides chasing after the image of him cooking, doing laundry, and cleaning the house. Eating the food Zeo liked, listening to the music he enjoyed, and repeatedly watching the movies he loved might have been a great comfort when he suddenly missed him so much he could not bear it.

By the time he grew tired of even that, he would probably have come to resemble him in many ways. If so, he thought, couldn’t he have been able to choose things Zeo would like, as if his tastes had become his own?

By the time he was finding music Zeo would like among the new releases, looking at Zeo’s face that would pop into his head when he ate something, and discovering Zeo in moments of a certain movie, he would have become a different person from who he was now.

When his thoughts reached that point, Jiwoon just laughed. It was all a ridiculous fantasy. Even if those things had been given to him, he would not have become a better person. In reality, everything was an excuse. Nothing was okay.

He could not even manage tomorrow, yet he was going to try to live a decent life just to meet Zeo at the final moment of his life—did that even make any sense? He had simply hated the thought of Zeo’s traces disappearing from the house.

If he could, he wanted to preserve everything in taxidermy. Without touching anything, he just wanted to leave it as it was and watch over it for a long, long time. But to protect the traces of the diligent Zeo, he had to force himself to follow him.

Even when it felt like he would go crazy with rage and a sense of injustice over Zeo’s disappearance, he had no time for that. A day was not enough to closely follow that perfect man. Jiwoon thought of Zeo, who had left without teaching him anything as if he would really do everything for him, at every single moment.

Even if he fell asleep with the thought of just letting everything go and quitting, he would force himself to get up the next morning and doggedly make himself a meal. He pushed the food into his throat and swallowed it instead of tears. Jiwoon missed Zeo.

It was fine if he did not do anything. If he would just stay by his side, there was nothing more he could wish for. He wanted to brag to Zeo, too. That he was doing well, that they were all things he could handle once he tried. So he wanted to tell him to focus on finding what he liked for the remaining time.

“I want to know what you like.”

Jiwoon stared into the darkness between the stars and muttered. I was always curious about you, you always said you didn’t have anything like that, but I think that might not have been true. He believed that the Zeo who had desperately cried out for him not to die, not to disappear, would surely be able to find it.

“I miss you.”

Once he let it out, the words “I miss you” poured out endlessly. He did not want a farewell like this. No matter how he thought about it, it was unfair. He needed Zeo. Not an angel. He desperately needed Izeo.