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The sound of In-ho’s footsteps rattled across the dimly lit hallway as he dawdled towards his room, clutching a bag of two lively goldfish in his hand. After he came back to the goshiwon and found the last pair of fish floating lifelessly in his bowl, he felt compelled to replace them.
He gripped tightly against the plastic as if he held a child in his hands. In-ho was about to take away that innocence and freedom by shoving the fish into something inescapable. Eventually they’d end up like the last. Dead. Forgotten. Like the bodies he selfishly stood on after he was announced as winner.
Perhaps letting them pass on was a means of learning to accept loss. To accept that all die whether or not you’ve done enough to save them.
In-ho restlessly fiddled his key around in the door handle before pushing it right open to reveal a small dark room. He sauntered towards the gleaming fish bowl cautious of the unknown objects threatening to trip him over.
He massaged the rim of the bowl before turning on a lamp and pouring the fish alongside an ample amount of store-bought water into it.
At least they die together. He thought to himself as he stared at the two small goldfish swimming indifferently for a long while.
“Hyung?”
In-ho turned to the solemn voice behind him. Still crouched down in front of the fishbowl, he squinted at the door wondering how his little brother managed to find a way inside. He forgot Jun-ho followed his footsteps into becoming a police officer.
“You’re finally back,” Jun-ho softly breathed aloud as if he hadn’t in years.
In-ho stood up and tilted his head conflicted by Jun-ho’s words. Was he counting the time he was gone? To In-ho it only felt like a day, though time must have slipped through his fingers.
When Jun-ho flicked the lights on, In-ho noticed a few misplaced items scattered around his room as if he’d been searched.
“What did you do?” In-ho asked, scrunching the plastic bag in which the fish came from.
“I was looking for you,” Jun-ho complained before getting closer to In-ho, “Ma was too. It’s been a week since you’ve stopped answering our calls, where have you been?”
In-ho grimaced and averted his gaze from his brother. He couldn’t tell him he was out looking for a murderer. It’d turn into an argument where Jun-ho would threaten to get police involved even if they were powerless.
“I’ve just been busy,” In-ho unconfidently answered, “You don’t need to constantly check on me.”
In-ho used to be the one checking in on Jun-ho. He used to sneak past his room to peep through his door making sure the little boy was safely dozing off. There were even some days In-ho would sit against the door unknowingly blacking out as his eyes grew heavy. This habit continued to latch onto him even during Jun-ho’s stay at the hospital—though this time uncomfortably on only a stool.
The tables had turned.
“Don’t lie to me,” Jun-ho argued, crossing his arms, “I’m just so… worried about you.“
Jun-ho held his breath and placed a finger on his lips. In-ho clawed deeper into the plastic bag feeling his own nails jab at his skin.
“Jun-ho, I trusted you during those sleepless nights you said you were okay,” In-ho huffed, “Can you trust me too?”
The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a few moments before Jun-ho sighed.
“I just don’t understand why you keep leaving us,” Jun-ho stuttered, “If this is about money we can just—“
“No. Not about money,” In-ho interrupted instantly, “I just need you to trust me. I’ll be out of this mess soon, okay?”
He was too far gone. In-ho reflected on the time his face kissed the damp concrete beneath him as droplets of rain seeped into his jacket and jabbed the scars on his skin. He laid there like a slug and occasionally shivered as his head tilted to the right. Blurry car lights shined through the cloth covering his eyes while someone loudly preached from afar.
He won. He stood victorious on that sandy arena after slaughtering all the other money hungry players. Did they deserve to meet their demise? Of course not, but In-ho had to. For his wife and for Jun-ho. Those were the only thoughts gushing through his mind after he’d been kicked onto the road by the frontman—whoever that asshole was.
He grunted, squirming around the floor trying to find a way to remove the cloth restricting movement in his hands. He needed to go back to them.
“Let there be light,” someone—whom he assumed was the preacher—whispered in his ear, startling him enough to jolt like a worm. The unidentifiable man unraveled the cloth from In-ho’s eyes and wrists and handed him a credit card before mysteriously walking away.
In-ho flinched as he rose from the harsh gash he obtained playing the games. He fiddled the flimsy and drenched card along his fingertips with interest comparable to that of a first grader.
The first place he rushed to after redeeming the card was the hospital. Those painful nights where him and his wife hoped for some sort of miracle were now over—he had the money.
There he learnt she was dead.
His shoulder stopped its screams of pain as his whole body became numb. It was all futile. All of that suffering and money yet he still lost her; his mind spiralled in unease.
Jun-ho. I need to check if he’s okay. In-ho shivered, tears welling from his eyes as his mouth frantically trembled. His own body was disregarded when he scavenged for signs his little brother was safe and sound.
“Jun-ho?” In-ho mumbled to the phone harshly pressed against his cheek. The subway eerily croaked after.
“Hyung? Where have you been? Are you okay?”
In-ho could tell from Jun-ho’s worried tone he had been waiting for ages. He seemed sort furious; his voice booming from the speaker. He couldn’t blame him, In-ho felt evil for missing the death of his wife.
“I’m fine. I only needed to know if you were okay,” In-ho breathed with relief, “I’ll call you and Ma when I get home, okay? I’ll explain everything.”
Before Jun-ho could antagonise his brother even further, In-ho ended the call. He sunk into the floor as tears rolled down his face.
“Look,” In-ho woefully sighed, pinching his nose bridge, “I know you’re worried but I’m going to be okay.”
He was far from okay, he knew that. However the last thing he wanted was for his beloved little brother to get involved.
He couldn’t bear to lose him too.
Jun-ho glowered at him, unimpressed by his answer. He sighed and shrugged it off before grabbing something from behind him.
“I don’t believe you,“ Jun-ho murmured, “but I brought you something. I was going to leave it by your desk but obviously you’re here.”
“You’re giving me something?” In-ho hummed, “Jun-ho, I don’t need money.”
“It’s not money,” Jun-ho retorted before he attempted to flatten a scrunched up piece of paper. He handed it over to In-ho, who inspected the crayon chicken scratches that complimented the wrinkles all over it.
It was 10-year-old Jun-ho’s drawing of the two of them in a bright shade of yellow mimicking that of a goldfish’s scales. In-ho stared at the art for a few seconds before turning it over to prevent himself from drowning in the memories.
“Ma gave me it. I thought you’d want it,” Jun-ho whispered before backing into the doorway, “I just thought it would remind you of home.”
“Maybe enough to make you stop leaving us.”
The paper crinkled as In-ho’s fingers twitched. He would do anything to turn back time and start again; preventing himself from becoming this confusing mess of an adult.
He needed to go back to the games. He needed to stop them and slaughter the frontman. Maybe then he could start over and fix his tainted life.
“Jun-ho!” In-ho yelled to the boy who barely exited the hallway.
“I’m going to leave for a few days, okay?” He spoke, patting his little brother’s shoulder repeatedly.
“I’ll be home after. I promise.”