Sungmin POV
Taekwang's house was quite in the state that houses get after something heavy has moved through them. My grip on Joohwan adjusted again as I reached to ring the doorbell. My heart was doing a nervous flip for no reason I could understand.
I heard the footsteps padding loudly on the floor in a hurry, and then the door swung open. He first looked at me and then at Joohwan's weight against my shoulder. He was so quiet that I thought that he would be panicked, just like the night we first met at the bridge.
He reached to pull Joohwan into his arms, his movements surprisingly calm and deliberate. There was no questioning, nothing. His face just locked into a tight, grim expression that told me he had already been expecting this moment.
"I've got him; please excuse the trouble," Taekwang said quietly, with a bow.
I shook my head quickly. "No, no, it's totally fine," I said with a small, soft laugh, rubbing my nape.
His lips pressed into a thin line, curling up. He wrapped his hands around Joohwan's shoulder, and Joohwan didn't offer any resistance. He just shifted from my shoulder to Taekwang's with a heavy, wet sigh, his forehead burying itself into the crook of Taekwang's neck as if his body recognised the familiar safety from his brother.
"…Taekwang-ah…" Joohwan slurred into the fabric of his shirt, a tiny, broken murmur. "…don't…don't be…tired…"
Taekwang didn't reply to mumbling. He just closed his eye for a split second, a muscle in his jaw twitching, before he adjusted his grip and looked back up at me. I was standing awkwardly on the welcome mat, my arms feeling incredibly light and useless.
"Sorry for making you stand; please come in," Taekwang said, stepping sideways into the entryway, a path through his grip on Joohwan never loosened.
I blinked, completely caught off guard. "Ah, no, it's fine. I should probably get going.
"Just come in for a second, hyung," he interrupted quietly.
Hyung?
He called me hyung?
Well, that's right; if Minjae is younger than me and so is Taekwang, it works.
"Please come in; I need to put him down in his room, and the door is letting the cold air in." He cut off my thoughts; his tone wasn't an order, but there was tired weight behind it that made it impossible to say no.
"Right. Sorry."
I stepped over the threshold, slipping my shoes off at the entryway as the door shut behind us.
The inside of the house was narrow, the way old city houses always are built upward, because there was nowhere else to go. The entryway was small, just enough space for a shoe rack on top with a flat surface where one can place anything. The rack was crammed with mismatched pairs, and a single hook on the wall was holding three jackets that had clearly been there long enough to forget whose was whose.
The living room opened immediately to the left, with low furniture, a worn sofa with a blanket folded over one arm, a small television that looked older than Taekwang, and a coffee table with a stack of books on one end and a coaster on the other. The kind of room that had been tidied but never quite decorated. Lived honestly rather than arranged for guests.
The kitchen was visible through a half-opened door on the right.
A narrow staircase ran along the right wall, its wooden steps worn smooth in the centre from years of feet going up and down. Taekwang moved towards it without hesitation, adjusting Joohwan's weight against his side.
"His room is upstairs," he said quietly, more to himself than to me.
I followed a few steps behind, not sure what else to do with myself.
The second-floor landing had two rooms, one opposite another. Taekwang slid the one on the left open with his shoulder. Joohwan's room, clearly, from the particular sparse tidiness of someone who had stopped caring about their space without becoming messy. A desk with nothing on it. A wardrobe door is slightly open. A bed with plain sheets that Taekwang lowered Joohwan onto carefully.
The door on the right stayed closed. Taekwang's room, I assumed.
As we headed downstairs, past the kitchen, I noticed a third door was closed, and a thin strip of yellow light through the gap in the third door felt entirely out of place in the dark, quiet house. It was a warm line cutting straight across the floorboards, drawing my eyes towards it before I could even think to look away.
"That's my parents' room," Taekwang said softly, his hand on the kitchen door's handle, pushing the half-opened door fully.
My mouth formed into an 'Oh' in acknowledgement, and I walked behind him into the kitchen, which is spacious, and then the entire house; there is a counter with burners and containers neatly settled, and there is a wet patch around the dish area as if it had been washed recently.
There is a back door on the corner behind the dining table. The large window is letting the refreshing air in; there is a Japanese red pine tree rustling softly.
"Please sit down, hyung; I'll get you some water. You carried him a long way." Taekwang said, turning around for the glass.
I wanted to tell him it was fine. I wanted to tell him that I should just leave and catch a taxi back to my own quiet apartment. But looking at Taekwang's slumped frame, my heart felt a pang that made me stay, and I have a question too, so I slid the chair back and sat.
He gave me the water glass and walked back to sit across from me, his hands interlocked with his fingers, placing them on the table.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
He nodded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes and said, "I'm sorry," he said first. "From earlier at the restaurant, Hyung's rejection wasn't your fault."
"It's fine," I said, because it was and because that wasn't what I was here to talk about anyway.
He nodded, still looking at the table. The table was quiet; outside, a car passed slowly, its headlights sweeping briefly across the window.
"Taekwang-ssi," I said carefully. "Do you by any chance know Yoonsuh…I mean, Yoonsuh hyung?"
I immediately corrected myself; it's been very long since I called someone hyung again, unlike only hearing others calling me hyung.
"Yes," He replied, looking up. "Yoonsuh hyung has been best friends with Joohwan hyung since they were in school."
I nodded knowingly.
"You went to the same high school as them, right?" Taekwang asked.
I blinked slowly and, with a slow nod, followed. "Y-yeah, I was the junior of them," I said with a pause, remembering those days when I didn't have a clear picture of Joohwan in my mind but Yoonsuh's.
"You know, when Yoonsuh hyung always made me bring cigarettes from my uncle because it would be easier than buying," I continued with a laugh. "He'd bribe me with homework answers whenever I got detention."
For the first time that night, a genuine smile flickered across Taekwang's face.
"That sounds like him."
"Right?" I chuckled. "I almost got caught once. I hid in my uncle's closet for almost an hour." The memory made me laugh again.
But Taekwang didn't. The smile on his face faded slowly, like a candle burning itself out.
"I wish..." He mumbled, which I couldn't hear.
My laughter died immediately. Taekwang lowered his gaze.
"I wish Yoonsuh hyung hadn't made that decision," Taekwang said.
"What decision?" I asked.
Taekwang didn't look up. He stared at the interlocking grip of his own fingers, his knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white under the kitchen light. The gentle rustle of the red pine tree outside the window suddenly sounded too loud, filling the sudden vacuum in the room.
Then he laughed, a short, broken laugh, which people try when they're trying very hard not to cry.
"He died," the words were barely above a whisper.
The two words fell into the kitchen as something dropped from a great height.
I didn't move. The glass was cold against my palm, and I was suddenly aware of the condensed beading against my fingers, something that was saying that what I heard was real.
"…What?"
"It's been nine years since he passed away," Taekwang said, his voice quivering at the end.
He finally looked up, his early brown eyes filled with tears that he was fighting to hold back.
"Nine years," he repeated, the number sounding very painful, like a knife twisting in his chest. "He took his own life, hyung."
The words didn't register at first. All I heard about after the nine years was on the reunion day, "You know he got into an accident." Words of Minjeong echoed in my head. "It was pretty bad."
An accident. That was what everyone had said. Not death. Not-
"No…" The word slipped out before I could stop it.
I stared at Taekwang, my mind reeling around the very conversation again and again. "No, that's not…" I shook my head slowly. "I heard he was in an accident."
A bitter laugh escaped Taekwang's lips.
"He was."
My gaze met Taekwang's, and a tear rolled down his cheek; he sucked in his breath before continuing, "He was in an accident first. He survived the accident, but he never survived what came after. He lost everything after that."
Taekwang rubbed his eyes roughly with the heel of his palm.
"The piano, the competitions, the future, he spent his entire life building on the only dream he believed in."
"What happened?" I asked quietly.
"The doctors said his hands would never recover enough, and he couldn't play anymore."
The kitchen fell silent. The words are still processing in my mind. Then I suddenly remembered Joohwan's drunken mumble…the piano…it's too cold…
That memory sent a chill down my spine at the realisation of what he meant.
Taekwang lowered his gaze again. "Everyone thought time would help; we thought he would heal and move on," he paused, his voice shattering like a glass, his shoulder shaking. "But we didn't see him afterwards."
I felt something twist painfully in my chest. Because I knew exactly what he meant. The sleepless nights, the pretending to be okay, the smiling so nobody worried. The slow disappearance and grief that always remind you that you have lost something.
Taekwang looked towards the staircase.
"Joohwan hyung tried everything; he stayed with him, skipped class, and even fought with Yoonsuh hyung's father. He practically stayed with him, never leaving his side, but Yoonsuh hyung didn't let Joohwan hyung stay with him all the time; he knew Baekbu (father's older brother) wouldn't tolerate Joohwan hyung.
And as time flowed, Joohwan hyung got busy with his classes, and Baekbu made him work at the restaurant and taught him extra hours; slowly there came the distance between them, and one evening when hyung had just got completed with his culinary class late, he got a voice mail from Yoonsuh hyung that he rushed to for him, but it was already too late."
Taekwang finally broke into more tears, his head lowering more, and I didn't notice that my vision got blurred by my own eyes tearing up. I wanted to reach his hand and tell him something that could comfort but I could not move a single finger; everything around me felt too heavy to breathe or speak. The back of my head suddenly started aching, the place where I got hurt when I got into an accident.
…the fire…it's rising… Yoonsuh-ya… Joohwan's words back in the taxi echoed again; he wasn't mumbling something random. It's something he is carrying within himself. His best friend lost his last memories.
"Han Sungmin"
I looked up.
Noochan was standing in the kitchen doorway; his hair was messy from sleep, and his glasses sat crooked on his nose as if he had been rushed in the middle of his sleep. His eyes moved between Taekwang and Sungmin with that same steadiness I remembered from the bridge. He took in the moment: Taekwang's tears, my untouched water glass, and the heaviness in the air.
Taekwang quickly wiped his tears, taking a breath. "Noo-Noochan hyung," he managed to say softly, yet the crack in his voice didn't miss the chance to show up.
Noochan didn't smile back; instead, he walked towards our table, dragging back the empty chair and sitting besides Taekwang just like every other friend does, placing his hand on Taekwang's shoulder as if he were trying to keep his soul in him.
"How is he?" Noochan asked quietly; the hoarseness in his voice from sleep didn't fade.
"Sleeping," Taekwang said quietly, yearning for a nod from Noochan.
Then his gaze fell on me. "You brought him back."
"I-I…" I started, but my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "Yes."
He nodded his head.
"I'll get you something to drink, hyung," Taekwang said, dragging the chair back, standing up, and walking back to the cupboards, shuffling around for a glass.
"So, you don't know anything about Yoonsuh hyung?" Noochan asked, not accusingly, but there was a spark of disbelief in the undertone.
He probably heard the conversation between Taekwang and me.
"No."
I lowered my gaze, unable to look at Noochan.
"But Hosung and Ah-in knew," Noochan said, not mocking or accusing both but stating a fact that was already known.
"W-what?"
"Your friends, they both knew this not long after it happened. Almost nine years. I assumed since you three were inseparable that you knew too."
I stared at him, not being able to digest the fact.
Ah-in knew it; Hosung did too.
…"Don't you feel like we have seen him somewhere?"…
…. "I don't think so…maybe I don't remember Sungmin; it's not like I have such a good memory as you."
..."Maybe you are mixing him up with someone you know or one of the noochan's well-known seniors."...
…. "I mean, he looked familiar to me too, and I used to know that Noochan had good connections with seniors, so maybe like that..."
The conversation replied in my head, Maybe I should have pushed him more or shouldn't have distracted him with bungeoppang that day; maybe I should have gotten to know him that day itself. But how? How could my own friends hide this from me?
"I didn't know," I said.
Noochan studied me for a moment. Then accepted with a single nod. My gaze went from Noochan to Taekwang, who looked at me, his eyes still gleaming through the mist of tears. The tears dried on his cheeks. There is concern in his eyes as if he had dumped what he had on me.
I tear my gaze from Taekwang and back to Noochan. "I guess I need to take leave," I said, pushing the chair back, my hands trembling not from cold.
"Thank you for finding him, hyung," he said softly.
I nodded once, stepping out of the kitchen; the yellow light that I had seen before, walking into the kitchen from Taekwang's mother's room, is now off. I wonder how much that mother has seen her child suffering in front of her.
Once I slipped my shoes on at the entryway and opened the front door, the cool air hit my face. The sky was turning into dark blue, the traces reminding me of the darkness, telling me it was already past midnight.
I stood on the step for a moment before leaving, looking up the narrow face of the house. The light is still glowing from the kitchen, and the shadows of Noochan and Taekwang are on the window. The second floor is dark and quiet. Somewhere up there, through walls and floorboards, a man was sleeping, holding on to the memories of his late best friend, who had never once been permitted to rest.
The red pine rustled at the side of the house, its branches just visible above the roofline.
I turned and walked into the night on the quiet road.
I pulled my phone out, turning on the screen, my fingers finding the contacts.
The IDs of Hosnug and Ah-in were on top, below the three numbers. I clicked on Hougung's ID, but my hand trembled with the urge to just click the dial button, hesitating, fighting, and saying it's not the right time to talk.
Maybe tomorrow…
My step stopped as I turned back to look at the street I crossed. The heavy man I have taken to his home today, which he might no longer think of as his, has lost hope in tomorrow.
Then I looked back at my phone, the screen fading slowly.