Chapter Text
He could smell and hear it before opening his eyes. Eyelids still heavy with sleep, body more tired than not. This was not his bed, this was not his lover’s bed. The beeping continues, for seconds, stretching to long minutes and he feels like it’ll never stop. Little does he know, that he wouldn’t want it to stop. The people to whom the voices around him belong, do their best to keep the beeping. So, it continues. He lays there, the beeping, the voices, the unfamiliar mattress below him. He notices more and more with each passing second, minute, hour.
Something hurts, but he is still drowsy. He wants to keep sleeping, but suddenly, he can pinpoint the pain, he can feel his body, he is aware of his heart beating. The voices get louder, familiar, they are talking to him. He tries to move, his body fails him. There is something piercing his skin, he doesn’t like it. He lets himself get lost in his thoughts.
Lousy dreams, flowers blooming and blinding lights, people cheering. Is this a dream? It feels way too real. He is drowning on air, everything stops, his mind goes blank. Then he opens his eyes.
At first, everything is blurry. His eyes, his mouth, they are dry. But his eyes focus, at the man standing above his head, a dark shadow preventing the light of the room to reach his face. He forms words, just to make sure he can, that he is not dreaming. His tongue feels like a rock, at the bottom of his mouth and unable to cooperate.
The man takes some steps back, bright white light fills his vision and then, the form of his mother, right next to him, her eyes red, swollen. He can’t bear the thought that someone made his sweet mother cry. Deep down, he knows it’s him, again and again. She speaks, but he can’t hear her, she reaches but he can’t feel her light touch. He blinks slowly and exhales, and it hurts, like his ribs are rubbing on sandpaper.
Slowly, a little pressure and there it is, a hand on his own. His skin is burning, stinging, heavy on his own bones. His mother kisses his forehead, he can see her. Then she goes away, maybe out of his dream, maybe just out of the room, because someone else is there too. He sees the grey hair, the beard, the face matching his own, eyes lazy and hooded. He wants to sleep again, nobody disturbs him in his dreams.
His father steps close as well, not as close as his mother did. The man kept his distance all the times he wasn’t sick, there’s no reason he would dare come to him now. Their eyes meet and he can see it, his father is angry, he wants to scream at him, he wants to grab his collar and throw him out of his house. He messed up again.
He wonders if his brother is there too. He doesn’t remember when they last saw each other. Maybe his younger brother doesn’t love him as much. Maybe he sees him as a failure too. He tries moving again and something happens, just a finger, his hand and it is back down on the mattress again. His father is talking with the other man, his mother on a chair at the back of the room. He can feel his mouth being open, he closes it.
His brother steps inside the room. Such a heartily family reunion. Hyungsik stares at him in awe. “You did it this time brother” he would say. But he doesn’t smile. He scrunches his nose, his expression morphing to one of disgust and he looks away.
It takes time, people come and go. The man, the doctor gives him instructions, helps him regain control of his body. He stretches his neck and spots the IV dripping somewhere behind his head. He follows it and ends up looking at his hand, the needle lost between skin and bones.
He can’t recall the reason for being in that room. A hospital room, his mind helpfully provides. He’s sick. He must be very sick, for everyone to be there. Is he dying? He’s still too young, he doesn’t want to die. He can’t die. He asks for water and his voice sounds barely recognisable to him. But it is heard and another woman, a nurse brings him water. She adjusts the bed and she holds his head, helps him drink through a straw.
His father and brother have left. How typical of them. His mother is talking with the nurse. There are flowers, left near a window, opposed to the door. His coat had flowers, yellow and red and blue and purple. His shirt had stripes, black and white. His bag was a fiery red, matching his shoes. And his pants? He tries a bit harder. His pants were a soft brown. Hoseok said he looks like a tree. Hoseok... he was at work then.
He was at work but he doesn’t remember finishing. Was he hit by a car going there? No, no he wasn’t, since he remembers Hoseok. But he only wears a green hospital gown. Where did his clothes go? Does Hoseok know that he is at the hospital? Was he the one who brought him here? Did he left because of his father? Maybe, being punched by his father once was enough.
His mother takes a chair and places it next to his bed. She caresses his cheeks and takes the hair out of his eyes. She tries feeding him something like cream, tasteless, like all hospital food is supposed to be. He tries eating and it makes him feel a bit better. His hand moves to find hers. She kisses his palm and keeps it close to her heart. She asks if he wants something else to eat, if he wants her to cook something. He can’t bear the thought of letting her go.
“Don’t worry Hyungwon dear, you’ll be alright.”
He stays for two days in the hospital. There is an extra one, a day and a night he doesn’t remember. He collapsed at work the doctor said, a co-worker called the ambulance. His parents were quickly informed. He is suggested to see more doctors, of many kinds, to help him “deal with his problem”.
He agrees to everything, as long as they let him out and unplug the IV from his veins. He promises to eat, to be careful, to get more blood examinations that he already had. Everything seems awful. He needs to call his secretary, to hear that he didn’t lose everything, didn’t spoil the company’s name, didn’t create a scandal or put anyone in trouble.
His parents are there to pick him up with the car, saying they’ll drive him home. He soon realises, they are not going to his home. They are going to their home. The house he grew up in and set foot once every two weeks after leaving five years ago.
The parking spot, the door, the small garden. He was supposed to be happy, having the privilege of living in such a nice neighbour, with parents always boasting about his upbringing. He’s definitely not happy visiting the house again, like this, having only the clothes his mother brought him, relics from his teenage years and a small pile of papers on his hands.
He brother is in his room, studying, talking with his girlfriend, whatever it is that charismatic siblings do. He opens the door to his own room, a small space decorated with posters of bands he doesn’t listen to anymore and pictures of friends that have left him.
He searches the wardrobe, he’s cold. He wants to change from the hospital’s underwear and have a bath. He gets undressed, piece by piece, leaving everything neatly on the bed. His wardrobe smells like lavender and on the inside of its door there’s a mirror, burned in places, cracked in others. He stands in front of it, completely naked, looking at his reflection.
Hollow eyes stare back at him mockingly. Skin desperately clinging on bones. He counts his ribs, he could probably count each and every bone on his body if he tried hard enough. He sits on the floor and draws his legs to his chest, like a ball, but full of sharp lines, edges.
He looks at mirrors a lot, for work, at home. But never like this. Never without his make up, his expensive clothes, his boyfriend behind him, reminding him that he’s soon making it big. Now, in nothing but his own skin, he looks almost not human. A creature creeping out of a horror story. His hair is falling, he knew, but never paid enough attention, that’s why special shampoos are sold. His face is pale, his lips nothing without a bit of lip tint smeared on them.
Someone tries to open his door, which is locked from the inside so he doesn’t make any sound. “He must be sleeping, leave him for now”. The heavy footsteps go away. Funny how his father didn’t break the door. To find what’s left of his son and put some sense into him with his fists. He is not even worthy of that anymore.
He could try being a little like his brother. His little, wonderful brother, already finishing university, ready for joining the military, planning to get married right after it. At least one son came out good. The other just came out. He needs to contact Hoseok, he must be scared. Hoseok first, his secretary next. He doesn’t know where his phone is. He can’t use the house phone.
He stands up and looks through his drawers, finds a decent pair of shorts and a shirt. Everything is loose on him, the shorts threatening to fall on the floor and pool around his legs. He looks around a bit more, it’s his room after all. There are small treasures, hidden everywhere. Notes inside books, letters under his bed in an old shoe box, a dried up flower in an old pocket, gift from a boyfriend years ago. Everything is in place.
Sleep won’t come to him. When sleep doesn’t come, thoughts will and they do. He made his mother worry so much, putting himself in danger of dying, that’s what the doctor said. He never wanted to die, but he realises he also never helped his body live, in a way. He knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s hurting himself, he knows he will be criticised. But all these, all these were nothing, when the crowd cheered and the cameras flashed. But his life? Is he ready to sacrifice that, when they fanciest part of his life is already over?
The doctor said he has to make the decision, before his mind gets more affected by the sickness, that’s what he called it. Hyungwon doesn’t see it as one. It’s not like he has a flu, nor like being mentally disabled. It’s a lifestyle. One that he worked hard to achieve and maintain for the past years. All this will be destroyed, with one decision. For his life.
He looks at his hands, his legs. No better than a corpse’s. He feels like throwing up, imagining himself in a box, six feet under the ground. Throwing up will definitely make him feel better, it always does. He counts in his mind. The hospital food, the crème his mother fed him, that juice. It’s too much.
What is outside his door is too much to deal as well. He used to put his ear on the door, eye on the lock. He is doing that no more, no need. He can hear his parents fighting in the living room. He gets on his bed and covers himself, the old bed not cracking under his weight, like it used to.
The noise from the living room stops, his brother has some song playing but it doesn’t bother him. He is scared to get out of his room. He can do more examinations, more physique tests, more of everything. As long as they don’t hurt him, or lock him up in the house. He wants to go home.
Sleep eventually comes.
Waking up in his old bed is strange, but having to take breakfast with his parents again is stranger. He takes the first long sleeved shirt he finds throwing it on his t-shirt and walks downstairs, to the kitchen where his father is reading the newspaper, glasses low on the bridge of his nose.
“Good morning.” He sits, his father folding the newspaper and sliding it across the table without a word. He takes it and before opening the sheets he spots a face on the first page. His own face. “Famous fashion reporter and ex-model Chae Hyungwon at hospital after fainting.” He takes a deep breath, of course the rival public agency would make something out of it. Under the headline, with smaller curly letters “Possible eating disorder is being examined”.
“Eat your breakfast.” His father is almost taunting, waiting for him to decline and then somehow make him feel worse. His stomach is in knots, the view of the full plates on the table nauseating.
“Your mother will be here soon as well, to talk.” After that, he can get a taxi to go home, have a nice, warm bath and get ready for work. He already missed enough.
He takes rice and eats slowly, trying to stretch the time, until his mother comes and food is forgotten. Nothing is more serious in this house than “talking”. Those long, tormenting conversations he had to endure some years ago resurface from the back of his mind. Hyungsik never got those, he was way too perfect to be scolded.
He hears the door being unlocked and his mother gets inside holding grocery bags. His father gets up to help her while she is taking her shoes off. Hyungwon watches the scene unfold, his chopsticks left on the pile of rice in his bowl. He supposes he should have helped too, in some way, but deep down is sure he will put the groceries in all the wrong places. Then he’ll get shouted at.
They all gather around the table at last, the atmosphere heavy, like it will rain. It’s just sunny and cold outside. His mother starts, looking at his father, for approval of her every word.
“Hyungwon, we, me and your father decided some things. You have the right to dismiss this conversation, but we think it would be wiser to listen and follow your parents’ wishes.”
“Okay.” He swallows, not quite liking his mother’s tone.
“You have a problem my son. A health problem. The doctor who treated you was kind enough to explain and give us different alternatives of taking care of your...problem.” His father takes the lead of the conversation, hands twisting the stray hairs of his beard.
“I can take care of myself. I will do all the recommended examinations, if that would please you.”
“If that would please us? You look like, like this and you dare say such words to my face? You have grown up to be an ungrateful son, but I know why, I know who made you like this.” Hyungwon doesn’t want to hear more. He already knows that his father was against his career, all of it. He doesn’t need to listen to his false ideas on repeat.
“Hyungwon dear, it would be better for you to live in a place where people can take care of you, for only a short while.” Hyungwon is lost. He knows he can take care of himself, he is not sick, or old, or anything that would need assistance in everyday life.
“What kind of place is that you are talking about mother?” She reaches for the counter, where a white envelop is left open, a handful of leaflets and booklets inside.
Hyungwon takes a look at it. It’s a hospital. Through the pages, he spots bold words, “depression, addiction withdrawal, communication problems, eating disorders” and the list goes on. On some pages, pictures of the personnel, faking smiles and tending to patients who seem perfectly healthy and happy. It’s a mental health clinic, advertised like a holiday inn.
“It’s a nice place Hyungwon, it will help you.” His mother’s eyes are hopeful.
“I am not crazy...this is not a place for me.” He feels weak against his parents, entitled to not let them down.
“You have a problem, it must be treated, since you got yourself into that and cannot get well.”
He is tired of being the problematic child. Maybe subconsciously he is a little tired of himself. A tiny spark of hope lights up dark corners of his mind. He wants to save himself after all.
“I will think about it.” It’s a promise to his parents and a promise to himself.
They looks pleased enough with this.
“Can I go home now?”
“You are already home.”
“I need to go to my apartment.” His father gives up, goes to his office. The end of their conversation.
“I will drive you dear, if you wait until I have everything ready for your brother’s lunch.”
His mother’s car always smells nice. Some times like cinnamon and others like vanilla. She is quiet while driving, careful on the road. His mother has been careful with everything her whole life. With her words too.
“I know that you don’t like what is happening. I know you have little control over it in reality. Please think about the clinic, just try it and maybe something good will get out of it.” They are in front of his apartment building already, car parked at an empty spot.
“I know you cannot believe it dear, but your father is so worried, as much as me. It hurts us to see you like this.” Hyungwon doesn’t try to protest. He remembers his own reflection the previous night. He is scared too. Before leaving the car, he hugs his mother tight and kisses her cheek. He promises himself to get better, for her.
Getting out of the car he notices the dark grey clouds at the sky.
His apartment is the same as ever, the smell of closure lingering on the air. He opens a window and leaves his clothes on the couch, heading straight to the shower. This house, unlike his parents’ makes him feel good about himself. Everything is neat, colourful, cleverly organised.
He picks his favourite soap from the big collection on his bathtub’s shelve. His sponge is soft on his skin and the water makes all the bad thoughts go away. He stays under the water a little too long, until it starts going cold. His fluffy towel is waiting and he walks around the house in just this, as long as it takes to dry up.
He has unanswered calls on his phone, all three from Hoseok. He calls back, knowing his boyfriend would be at work, but he can take a break. Hoseok constantly needs a break. The phone rings, but Hoseok does not answer, it must be left in silent mode, somewhere in his bag, typical.
Hyungwon does the laundry, makes his bed, cleans around a little and checks his available groceries. Which are in fact, more vitamins and health supplements than actual food. There are also the occasional fruits and vegetables he allows himself to eat. No shopping needed this week.
He opens his laptop, checking his social media, concerned messages from friends and “friends” flooding his notifications. He briefly answers everyone and then logs into his work email. He has unfinished articles and requests. He is positive he can catch up on them soon. He has much to do, health clinics can wait.
He checks the online version of the magazine as well, his page filled with other articles and photographs by someone else. He decides to make up for it with doing double the work he usually does. Then he takes a look at Hoseok’s page, the fake name he uses on top of the article, matched with a photo of a bodybuilder. Taken at some local championship, the title provides.
The phone rings loudly, Hyungwon reaches for it.
“Hyungwon? Hello!” Hoseok’s sounds so tired, Hyungwon can guess he was just left off work.
“It’s me, how are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you Hyungwon? When did you get out of the hospital?”
Hyungwon ensures that there is nothing to be concerned about and he is doing alright. He adds that he’ll be going to work the next day, with a tea for himself and a coffee for Hoseok, part of their morning routine.
Hoseok suddenly sounds way more hesitant.
“Can I come over? I won’t stay long.”
He needs to start reminding Hoseok how much he loves and appreciates him more, he deserves it. They hung up and he waits for the twenty minutes it takes to get home from work.
Hoseok shows up at his doorstep with droplets of rain on his hair and coat. He is holding a box. They kiss at the doorstep and thankfully there are always clean clothes belonging to Hoseok around the house. Hoseok sits on the couch, leaving the box in front of him.
Hyungwon opens the strange present, to find his work belongings inside. Everything not work related he kept on his desk, placed inside it. He looks at Hoseok asking for answers, although it could only mean one thing. Hoseok clears his throat awkwardly.
“They didn’t told you I guess...”
“No...”
Hyungwon couldn’t believe he was fired. He thought of asking for a chance, of showing his worth. They couldn’t be kicking him out like this, after three years of working non-stop.
“They contacted your previous agency I think.”
“Oh.”
That shouldn’t make much sense, but it somehow does.
This modelling agency, the one he devoted so many years to. The one stopping him from trying to get into university. It’s messed up and he doesn’t want to think about it.
He sits close to Hoseok. Asks him about his day, his articles, if he’s going to travel soon. He tells him about his parents and the clinic and what he remembers from the hospital. Hoseok, in his calm manner listens and answers and adds, his hand around Hyungwon’s waist.
Hoseok kisses up his neck and pulls him on his lap. Like this, so close with their foreheads touching Hoseok whispers how much he loves Hyungwon. Hyungwon would say it a hundred times more, if their mouths were not on each other.
He lets Hoseok go, lending him an umbrella. He is the one working early the next morning. They promise to spend more time together over the weekend and make up for the lost days. To search a new job for Hyungwon and watch movies.
He decides it’s one more sleepless night, his body tired, but his mind still overthinking. Once again on his laptop, now sitting on the couch between soft pillows he finds himself searching the clinic’s name. He prefers calling it just clinic. Pictures and the official site show up.
There is not much more than the information on the leaflets, but he knows it can’t be as good and carefree as it seems. The site has a pop-up menu of the activities available. First are the therapy sessions, individual and in groups, for every patient. He doesn’t think he needs that. There are also sports, tennis and basketball and swimming and more. Not really his forte.
Then, the last part features painting classes, music, baking, in smaller groups. Sounds like being on holidays indeed. There are pictures of the rooms, simple but not at all hospital like, having soft colours and some space for personalisation. Next is the spacious dining hall and the cafeteria and lastly the gardens, green fields dotted by flowers and wooden benches.
He looks some more, the contact information, the prices, little details. He smiles at a photo of two therapy dogs sitting side to side, their tongues out and tails wiggling. There is also a list of the main personnel, from psychologists to general doctors. It must be a huge place.
He shuts his laptop’s screen and falls asleep.
Hyungwon is confused, with himself. He is aware of the state of his body, he almost accepts that he needs help, but he is too proud to ask for it. So he searches, on the internet, in sites and forums. He is scared to give a name to his problem, not yet. But he finds answers, far from nice ones.
Organ failure and premature deaths. All kinds of blood and vitamin intake problems. Most untreated cases lead straight to death, either physical or suicide. He reminds himself that he doesn’t want that, not at all. He looks at the hospital papers again and again. He searches up every single examination he was asked to do. There are a lot.
He forgets he was gonna look for a new job, or that he was supposed to spend the weekend with his boyfriend. Hoseok calls and is too tired to come over anyway, they video chat for a short while. Hyungwon spends the rest of his time finding out more.
Images mirroring the state of his body that he can’t look at without feeling sick. Articles about purging, explaining how it gradually destroys his throat and stomach, his teeth even. It’s been a week since he last shoved a toothbrush down his throat. He is afraid of fainting again.
He tries eating, making some soup and his stomach doesn’t let him eat more than a spoonful for every meal. Still, it’s a progress.
He finds himself ending up at the clinic’s site more often than not. It seems like the best choice, after every passing day. He decides to call a friend first.
Kim Himchan looks better than ever, in his newly dyed reddish brown hair and elegant clothing. They take a small table at their favourite café’s garden, sheltered for the winter. Hyungwon orders his plain americano, while Himchan has something with both sugar and cream. That’s too much calories.
“Work’s not going that well huh?” Himchan never filtered much his thoughts before talking. Hyungwon has become used to it. He gives the other man his cookies too.
“Nothing’s going well, at the time.”
Himchan takes his sunglasses off and tucks them in his coat’s chest pocket.
“You look like you were run over by a truck.”
“Thanks.”
Himchan is one of his very few, actual friends. They started together, working for the same model agency and Himchan, being older always had his way of taking care of Hyungwon. They were fired together, with a short two months difference, for the same reason. They kept in touch afterwards and Hyungwon had the chance to watch as Himchan altered to a more healthy self, while Hyungwon kept losing weight and praised himself for it.
The Himchan sitting with him now is beautiful. His skin is shiny and his hair is no more thinning and having to be cared for with special products. His cloths embrace his frame nicely and his smile is nestled between two rosy cheeks. Hyungwon feels almost bad, self-aware of the pile of bones he has become. Himchan gets the clue easily.
“You want to do something about yourself, because your ways have stopped feeling right, is that it?”
“I guess. You read about...”
“Yes, do you feel better?”
“I’m okay. I have a ton of examinations to go through. My parents are terrified.”
“Do you think they have the right to be?”
Hyungwon stares at his coffee, the ice cubes floating on the bitterly flavoured water.
“I think they do. I am a bit too.”
“Been there. I can’t help you Hyungwon, only you can make yourself snap out of it.”
“I wanted your opinion on something actually.”
Himchan listens about the clinic, the nicely painted rooms and the smiling nurses. He looks at the pictures on Hyungwon’s phone. He shakes his head without commenting much on them. At the end, Hyungwon looks back at him, searching for approval. Himchan laughs.
“I think you have already made your choice, I also think it’s a wise one, it will help you.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“If you want it to work it will. I only had a nutritionist and a therapist, having a whole team and being in a safe place would be more effective I guess.”
“How is it like?”
“It took me almost a year and a half to reach a somewhat healthy weight. Some more months to actually start feeling better about myself. If you look at yourself and don’t like what you see, that’s a good start.”
They switch to lighter conversation, turns out Himchan’s business is running smoothly. He has a small, yet cosy store, selling furniture, mostly from freelance artists who create limited pieces and he’s quite proud of it. He promises Hyungwon a position there, when and if he feels like it. Hyungwon appreciates the offer and declines, for the time being. He still has more than enough money, until he decides on what to do next.
Himchan also asks about Hoseok and Hyungwon reveals that they had started thinking about marriage, on the long run. Himchan doesn’t seem that happy about it, but then again he never liked Hoseok much, reasons still unknown. Could be just his protectiveness over Hyungwon. Has happened with previous partners before.
Himchan on the other hand is still enjoying his single life, mentions how the party invitations from their ex co-workers keep coming. He’s not keen on settling with someone anytime soon. He winks saying this, sipping the last of his coffee and leaning back on his chair. Hyungwon didn’t realise how much he needed the conversation, with someone outside work, family, or Hoseok.
They part ways after hours of talking. They promise to see each other soon again. Himchan takes the bus to his home and Hyungwon goes to the underground train station. He feels lighter, a little empowered, like he has control over the stressful situation. He walks the rest of the way to his apartment from the station and clear air fills his lungs. He decides to call the clinic the very next morning.
Hyungwon wakes up around 10 and has his breakfast of coffee and three different supplements. His phone is on his desk, waiting next to his laptop. He takes as much time as he can drinking his coffee and making his bed. The rest of the house is already shining.
He sits and opens his laptop, finding the clinic’s page in his bookmarks. He checks again the days and times ha can call for information, just to be sure. He dials the reception’s number and the phone rings two times before a woman answers from the other end.
“Gyegol mental clinic. Good morning, how can I help you?” He would be convinced it’s an answer bot, if not for the background hustle, faint voices and the sound of steps.
“Good morning, I am...eh...I am interested in your services.”
“Of course sir, would you want to share more information or visit and talk with one of the doctors?”
“Visiting sounds better, do I need to book a date?”
“You can come any morning from eight to two, but we would be glad to be waiting for you on a fixed time as well.”
“I will probably visit tomorrow morning, thank you.”
Before hanging up, the receptionist takes his name and phone number, promising that someone will be waiting for him around eleven. She informs him of how to get there by car and wishes him a pleasant day.
Hyungwon then calls Hoseok, asks him to meet. He is at work and will pass the rest of the day there, since some important championship is going on and he is in charge of online updates, for the rest of the week. Hyungwon feels sorry, but also the tiniest angry that Hoseok can’t find an hour to squeeze him, even after explaining that he might be leaving out of his house for a while. Not much, a couple of weeks maybe.
The patients can wear their own clothes. He starts filling a duffel bag with some of his favourite. He skips skinny jeans and fancy shirts. The bag gets filled with soft sweaters and simple t-shirts. He makes a list of other things too. His toothbrushes, even if thinking that leaving one behind. Combs and gel for his hair, a second pair of shoes.
It’s enough for a week. He can do the laundry there, if he decides to stay a few more days. He hope he won’t have to. The rest of his wardrobe consists of nearly never-worn clothes from his model days. Deep cuts and provoking pieces. Nothing nearly suited for work, so they just stay there, waiting for the day he will somehow make them useful again. He thought of donating many times, but doubts that someone needs a bright yellow coat with one sleeve to keep themselves warm during the winter.
“Hey, mum, is dad home?” He can hear his mother shuffling around the house, sure she’s keeping her phone between her head and shoulder while ironing or doing the laundry.
“He’s at work dear, what do you need?”
“Is Hyungsik there then?”
“He’s at his room, do you need me to tell them something.”
“No, just you.”
His mother knocks on his door half an hour later, a bag definitely containing tupperware with treats in her hands. She looks concerned but Hyungwon hugs her and makes tea. She leaves her bag on his office and stays still and tense.
“It’s nothing bad, I promise.”
“Okay.” She smiles getting more comfortable.
Hyungwon brings her a cup of tea and leaves the other one without sugar on the table for him.
“I’ll go to the clinic tomorrow.”
“Oh! You decided it.” She seems better than a few seconds ago.
“Yeah...” Hyungwon wants her to speak more, to fill the silence, but she doesn’t, waiting for something from him.
“Are you sure about it dear?”
“I’ll find out, soon enough.”
“Will you drive there? I could take you with my car, or yours.” She takes her car key from her pocket and leaves it next to her tea.
“No, that’s alright, it’ll be only for a week, I think I can leave my car there.”
“Only a week? What if you need more...?”
Hyungwon frowns, although it’s a good question. He avoids thinking about it.
“Most people have way more serious problems than me. Why keep me that long?”
“Your problem is serious as well Hyungwon, you shouldn’t underestimate it.”
His mother helps him organise his duffel bag again. She can magically make space for more clothes and items and he packs one pair of khakis and a shirt too, just in case. She notices the two toothbrushes but doesn’t comment on them and just makes sure to leave some food as well, even when knowing that Hyungwon won’t eat it. It’s the same since he was going to high school.
When they sit down again it’s dark outside and his father has already called once. She answered that she is out with a friend and Hyungwon feels relieved. He wants his father to know as little as possible. His mother can read his mind.
“Do you want me to tell him?”
“Is it possible not to? Hyungsik neither.”
“Whatever you want dear.”
She promises to keep his stay, no matter how long, in the clinic a secret. Hyungwon mostly talks with her and his father and brother may not even notice his skipping one or two Sunday family lunches.
“I hope you know how much your brother loves you.”
“Hyungsik?”
“Yes Hyungwon, never doubt that he does.”
Hyungwon thinks of all the times Hyungsik had friends over and asked him to stay in his room because he was too embarrassed of people meeting his brother. Or how he always took the blame when they were younger and his brother never paid back or said he was thankful for not being scolded. Hyungwon doesn’t want to sadden his mother.
“I’m sure he does.”
“What about....” Hyungwon guesses right away. His mother is awkward when it comes to his relationships. Not judgemental nor unsupportive. Just still in slight shock that her son is openly gay.
“He has work, he won’t be able to meet me before going. It’s alright.”
His mother nods and her expression reminds him a bit of Himchan’s.