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Han-seo, at first, was not one to care about the hypothetical, especially when it came to theories like the existence of other universes.
Alternate universes weren't a big deal to him, as he had far more important things to care about than if another version of himself existed somewhere in a different universe. He had to focus on the self that existed here because, if he didn't, it would probably end in a hockey stick making acquaintances with his back.
But sometimes, when Han-seo wondered if he was so fucked up that he could never be fixed back together, he wondered if maybe there was another version of him that wasn't utterly broken. Even if Han-seok continued to break Han-seo down piece by piece and replace him with the new parts that he'd chosen, perhaps there was a version of him without a single scratch, a single missing part.
In some faraway alternative universe, could he have been able to be a boy? Or was he truly destined to be like a well-attempted goal never reached; a disappointment that crushed the hopefuls that were foolish enough to believe in it?
That thought stretched out to include Han-seok too, sometimes, like when Han-seo had to be the ragdoll for another one of his outbursts.
When Han-seok beat him until he felt like he would hack out more than just blood but also his organs, Han-seo stared up at the Han-seok who was glaring down at him in the utter, seething hatred that he deserved for committing the crime of existing, and wondered if, in some other universe, Han-seok would look at him with a smile instead. If not that, at least with the love a brother would be able to give.
And if he was not even worthy of that, with tolerance.
If he, somewhere, is allowed to be loved by Han-seok like a brother.
And if not that, be understood like a brother.
I want to be brothers with you.
Because we are anything but that.
He didn't know exactly when, but he did eventually find himself caring if, in some universe, he could wear his sleeves short and call Han-seok to pick him up as he was completely hammered at a party, or if he could have called his father 'Dad', and not have dreaded sitting with his family at the dinner table.
Maybe in another universe, he was a child, and his father ruffled his hair, calling him 'kid', and picking him up onto his shoulders so he could see the giraffes at the zoo easier.
Maybe Han-seo would have gotten to know his mother better, spent real time with her. In this universe, he knew more about the household maid than his mother and had spent far more time around the maid than he could have ever wished to spend with her. In that universe, the idea of someone spending more time with a maid than their own mother would make his heart heavy with pity for a moment, but he would then continue braiding his mother's hair for her as her hands had become too shaky with age to do it as well as she used to.
He would bicker with Han-seok about the best flavour of ice cream as they ate far too much of it and played Mario Kart. Han-seo would lose, and Han-seok would rub it in his face, but at least no controllers would be broken if Han-seo were to, by luck, win a game. He would know his favourite colour, food, game, season, word and more random, trivial facts, but this time Han-seok would also know his.
Han-seok would run the company legally, and Han-seo would be the very eager Vice Chairman willing to help every step of the way.
But that Han-seo would never think of what it'd be like to be him, never dream of a world so shitty being real—his own reality no less.
So if that universe Han-seo ever met him? If the universes collided together and alternate universes were real and there was a truly better version of him that he got the humiliation of meeting?
That universe Han-seo would look down at the broken pieces of him. Maybe with pity, maybe with sadness, maybe with disgust, horror, or sympathy—it could even be a swirling mix of all five—but it could not be true empathy. Not true understanding.
Because they'd be different in everything but their faces and names, almost like he and his brother in this universe.
A Han-seo similar to him couldn’t exist if they had not been torn apart at every limb and bone, as what was he if not utterly ripped apart? It was all he was and all he knew.
No, that Han-seo would be more akin to a stranger.
Yet Han-seo wanted to be anyone but himself anyway, so he could pretend he could imagine what a world opposite his was like. What it would be like to be that Han-seo.
Perhaps that universe's Han-seok would be a safe place for him instead of a constant maze that changed layouts with every single wrong move. Instead of thorns hungrily awaiting each misstep, there would be soft carpet he could plant his feet onto, walk down to a comfy sofa on, relax into, and rest on until he felt like he was okay enough to leave.
And perhaps, in another universe, they'd be children together again, and instead of Han-seo being covered with the bruises Han-seok had moulded into him, Han-seok would peel an orange for him as they sat together. Han-seo would smile and thank him as he took a piece off, and then they'd laugh together about a story Han-seok had told him far too many times to count.
In that universe, Han-seo would call him lame, and Han-seok would've responded with a light jab to his side.
And Han-seo would not flinch, and Han-seok would not laugh at it. No, Han-seo would sulk, and Han-seok would roll his eyes. They'd joke and laugh some more, and love like brothers do.
But that universe was not his (if real at all). That Han-seo was not him, and that Han-seok was not his Han-seok either. Han-seo had to live with the fact that he was himself and had to pay for that with bruises and cuts, anger, and blood.
Even though he knew that it was likely not true, sometimes, just sometimes, when Han-seok had gotten all of his anger out and panted heavily as Han-seo felt blood drip down his arm or held onto his aching body, he'd think to himself as he collected himself and bowed to leave:
Maybe in some other universe, some faraway place, I sit in comfortable silence with you.