Ji-Soo barely made it to her room before the door slammed shut behind her.
The sound echoed loudly in the silence.
For a second, she just stood there.
Breathing hard.
Her chest rising unevenly like the air itself hurt going in.
Then her eyes lifted.
The mirror.
She stared at herself.
Long hair.
Same eyes.
Same lips.
Same face.
Ji-Woo's face.
No—
their face.
And suddenly all she could hear was her mother's voice again.
Ji-Woo was better.
She always was.
Ji-Soo stepped closer to the mirror slowly.
Her reflection looked back at her like a stranger wearing her skin.
"They're the same…" she whispered shakily. "We look exactly the same…"
But somehow it still wasn't enough.
Never enough.
Her breathing cracked.
Then all at once—
she dropped.
Her knees hit the floor hard beside the bed, but she barely felt it.
And the crying finally exploded out of her.
Not quiet tears.
Not graceful.
Ugly.
Loud.
The kind that hurt the throat and made breathing impossible between sobs.
Her entire body shook violently as the sound tore out of her chest.
She pressed both hands over her mouth at first like she could stop it—
but she couldn't.
Years of pain crashed out at once.
A broken, gasping sound left her throat as tears soaked her face faster than she could wipe them away.
"I hate this…" she sobbed. "I hate this so much…"
Her voice came out ruined.
Small.
Destroyed.
Now it felt real.
Everything.
Her mother hated her.
Not suspected.
Not implied.
Confirmed.
Seo-Yeon was threatening her.
Mi-Sook was destroying her life piece by piece.
And Eun-Woo…
That hurt the worst.
Ji-Soo curled into herself tighter, crying harder as memories hit her one after another without mercy.
Eun-Woo smiling at her softly.
Walking beside her quietly.
Waiting for her.
Listening to her.
Looking at her like she mattered.
Warm.
Gentle.
Always there when she needed someone.
And now—
he looked at her like he didn't know who she was.
A fresh sob broke from her chest.
"He hates me now…" she whispered through tears. "He hates me…"
Her shoulders trembled violently.
Everything they had suddenly replayed in her mind painfully differently now.
Every smile.
Every conversation.
Every moment that once felt safe.
Gone.
Then Mi-Sook entered her thoughts again.
Immediately, the sadness twisted sharply into anger.
Ji-Soo's hands clenched against the floor.
Her breathing sharpened.
"That psycho…" she muttered through gritted teeth. "She ruined everything…"
Her blood boiled just thinking about her smug face.
The photos.
The messages.
The satisfaction in her eyes.
Ji-Soo shut her eyes tightly, trying to breathe.
But then—
another face appeared instead.
Ji-Bok.
And strangely—
the tightness in her chest loosened just slightly.
Ji-Bok sitting beside her at the gate without asking questions.
Ji-Bok letting her cry into his shoulder.
Ji-Bok staying.
Always staying.
Even when she pushed him away.
Even when everything around her got worse.
A shaky breath left her.
Then another sob.
Because even that hurt too.
Everything hurt.
Everything was collapsing too fast.
Her mother.
Eun-Woo.
The lies.
The fear.
The guilt.
The anger.
Everything.
Ji-Soo slowly curled against the side of her bed, tears still falling endlessly as she buried her face in her arms.
And in the middle of the dark room—
with her reflection still faintly visible in the mirror—
one thought kept repeating in her head over and over again.
Everything is going downhill.
Everything.
--------
Ji-Ho locked the bathroom door quietly behind him.
Not because anyone cared enough to follow him.
Just habit.
The light above the mirror flickered faintly, washing the small bathroom in a pale yellow glow that made everything feel colder somehow.
He gripped the edge of the sink tightly.
His breathing already sounded wrong.
Too shallow.
Too uneven.
Another cough tore through his chest suddenly.
Sharp.
Painful.
He bent forward immediately, one hand pressing against his mouth.
Then—
Blood.
Dark red splattered into the sink.
Ji-Ho froze.
For a second, he only stared at it.
Like maybe if he looked long enough, it would become something else.
But it didn't.
Another violent cough hit him harder this time.
His entire body jerked forward painfully.
More blood.
Enough that his knees almost gave out beneath him.
A broken sound escaped his throat as he grabbed the sink harder to keep himself upright.
His chest burned.
Everything burned.
The metallic smell filled the room quickly.
Ji-Ho squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to steady his breathing, but another wave hit him immediately.
He turned toward the toilet just in time before vomiting again.
Blood.
Too much.
His hands shook violently afterward as he stayed hunched over, breathing hard like each breath had to fight its way out of him.
The bathroom felt too hot suddenly.
Too small.
His vision blurred around the edges.
"…No…" he whispered weakly.
But deep down—
he already knew this wasn't normal anymore.
It hadn't been normal for a while.
His mind drifted unwillingly.
Back to that day at school.
The watch.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's watch.
He remembered finding it.
Remembered the dizziness afterward.
The coughing.
The first taste of blood he tried pretending wasn't there.
Then another memory.
The roadside.
Sitting with Ji-Soo.
Sharing soda quietly under the night sky while pretending everything was okay.
He remembered smiling faintly at something she said.
Then later—
blood again.
Hidden carefully.
Ignored carefully.
Because no one around him ever really listened anyway.
Ji-Ho slowly slid down against the bathroom wall now, exhausted.
His skin looked frighteningly pale under the light.
Almost gray.
He swallowed hard, wincing immediately afterward.
Then, after a long hesitation—
he pushed himself up weakly and unlocked the bathroom door.
Mrs. Park was in the kitchen.
The sound of dishes clinking filled the house.
Ji-Ho stood there unsteadily for a moment before speaking.
"…Mrs. Park."
She barely looked at him.
"What now?"
Ji-Ho hesitated.
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
"I don't think I'm okay."
That finally made her glance over.
But not with concern.
Only irritation.
"You look fine."
Ji-Ho swallowed again.
"There's blood," he said quietly. "I've been coughing blood."
Mrs. Park sighed loudly like he was inconveniencing her.
"Again with this?" she snapped. "You always exaggerate everything."
Ji-Ho blinked slowly.
"I'm serious."
"And I'm serious too," she shot back. "Stop trying to create problems in this house."
His expression fell slightly.
"I'm not trying to—"
"You're just like your mother," she interrupted sharply. "Always sick. Always dramatic. Always wanting attention."
That one landed hard.
Ji-Ho lowered his eyes immediately.
Mrs. Park turned back to the sink.
"Take medicine and sleep," she muttered coldly. "I don't have time for this nonsense."
Silence.
Ji-Ho stood there another second longer.
Hoping maybe she'd turn around again.
Ask if he was okay.
Anything.
But she didn't.
So eventually—
he turned and walked away quietly.
Back to his room.
The hallway felt longer than usual.
His legs weak beneath him.
Once inside, he shut the door softly and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like even sitting required energy now.
His room was dark except for the faint streetlight coming through the curtains.
Ji-Ho picked up his phone.
His hand trembled slightly as he unlocked it.
Emergency number.
His thumb hovered over it.
Call.
911
He stared at it for a long time.
His breathing uneven in the silence.
Part of him wanted to press it.
Wanted someone to finally take him seriously.
Wanted someone to see that he was scared.
That something was really wrong.
But another thought came immediately after.
Mrs. Park yelling.
Calling him embarrassing.
Calling his mother pathetic.
Making everything into something ugly.
His thumb hovered.
Then moved away. No.
Not that. Not tonight.
The screen scrolled lower. Then stopped.
Ji-Bok.
Ji-Ho stared at the name.
For some reason... A tiny smile appeared. Very tiny. Almost invisible.
Because Ji-Bok was ridiculous. Annoying. Loud. Impossible.
And somehow that made things easier.
Before he could change his mind he pressed call.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
The phone connected immediately. "HELLO?"
Ji-Ho winced. "Why are you shouting?"
"Why are YOU calling me?"
Silence.
Then "...That's a reasonable question."
Ji-Bok laughed. A loud laugh. "Wait."
A pause. "Are you dying?"
Ji-Ho blinked. "...What?"
"You only call me voluntarily when something weird happens."
"That's not true."
"It is absolutely true."
Ji-Ho thought about it. "...Statistically, maybe."
"I KNEW IT."
Ji-Bok sounded victorious. Like he'd solved a major crime.
Ji-Ho closed his eyes.
For the first time all evening he felt a little less exhausted.
"How was school?" Ji-Bok asked.
"You skipped it."
"Answer the question."
"It was school."
"Fascinating."
"Thank you."
"I can see why people enjoy talking to you."
Ji-Ho adjusted his glasses.
Even though Ji-Bok couldn't see him. "That sounded sarcastic."
"It was."
"Okay."
The answer came so seriously that Ji-Bok started laughing again.
And somehow Ji-Ho found himself listening. Not annoyed. Just listening. The noise filled the room. Made it feel less empty.
"Anyway," Ji-Bok said.
"What?"
"Why'd you call?"
The question hung in the air.
Ji-Ho looked down. At the faint blood staining the sleeve of his shirt.
His chest tightened. This was it.
The moment. Just say it. Tell him. Tell somebody. Tell anyone. I've been coughing blood. Something's wrong. I'm scared.
The words sat there.
Ready. Waiting.
Ji-Ho opened his mouth. Then stopped.
Because another thought appeared immediately afterward.
Why? Why would it matter?
People didn't care. Mrs. Park didn't. Nobody else did. Maybe Ji-Bok would just worry. Maybe he'd look at him differently. Maybe he'd think he was being dramatic too.
The silence stretched. "Ji-Ho?"
He blinked. "Hm?"
"You disappeared."
"Oh."
Another pause.
Then Ji-Ho answered. "...Nothing."
Ji-Bok immediately groaned. "That is a lie."
"It isn't."
"It is."
"It isn't."
"You're terrible at lying."
Ji-Ho stared at the wall. "...Noted."
"You sound weird."
"I always sound weird."
"Fair point."
Silence again.
Comfortable this time.
Then Ji-Bok suddenly said "Hey."
"What?"
"Whatever it is."
Ji-Ho looked down. "...What?"
Ji-Bok's voice softened slightly.
Only slightly. "You can tell me, idiot."
The room became very quiet.
Ji-Ho's fingers tightened around the phone.
For one second he almost did. Almost.
But in the end "...There's nothing to tell."
A lie. A complete lie.
Ji-Bok sighed dramatically. "Fine."
"Fine."
"But if you die tomorrow, I'm haunting you."
Ji-Ho blinked. "...You'd haunt me?"
"Yes."
"That's not how haunting works."
"I'll figure it out."
Despite everything A tiny laugh escaped Ji-Ho.
Small. Quiet. Barely there.
But real.
Ji-Bok immediately gasped. "WAIT."
"What?"
"Was that a laugh?"
"No."
"THAT WAS A LAUGH."
"It wasn't."
"IT WAS."
Ji-Ho rolled his eyes.
For the first time all evening.
And somehow the crushing loneliness loosened just a little.
Not because the pain disappeared.
Not because the blood disappeared.
Not because he was suddenly okay.
But because for a few minutes someone was talking to him like he mattered.
And when the call finally ended later that night Ji-Ho sat alone in the dark again.
Phone resting beside him.
The blood still there.
The sickness still there.
The fear still there.
But so was one small thought.
A thought he never said aloud.
Maybe...
If he told Ji-Bok someday...
Ji-Bok would actually care.