123. The Frustrations Held in Her Arms
Those stifling frustrations she'd been carrying. The secrets I'd firmly believed could never be spoken aloud. Even though I'd spilled them half on my own whim, the relief that came after letting it all out was undeniable. Back then, feeling so guilty, I'd messaged them after getting home, offering to buy them a meal.
The female junior politely declined, saying she was fine. The male junior replied that we should grab food after exams. Gyeo-ul's friend... well, she was the one who first suggested meeting up with Gyeo-ul. My classmate sent back a simple encouragement: Good job, you worked hard. Oh, and an ice cream gift card as a bonus.
I figure the A+ on the group project was the biggest reason everyone let it slide so easily. If it had been a fail, I'd have been blocked 100% for sure. Ability and politics are what matter most for a person, after all. If you can't get close with words, just buy them a meal and shut their mouths.
Of course, not everyone understood. My classmate in a similar boat got it roughly, but the juniors I'd forced drinks on didn't all forgive or accept it. Still, no one said a word about the secrets they'd heard. They might respond if I brought it up first, but we're not close enough for that. They're just pretending not to know. Honestly, I'm grateful they wrote off the whole mess as drunken nonsense.
"I'm home..."
"Daughter's back?"
"Yeah, Mo—... What? It's you, Oppa. If you're gonna prank me, at least change your voice."
"How'd the exam go?"
"So-so?"
The last day of the weekday. Universities all run on similar schedules, so exam periods overlap. Sinchon felt completely unfamiliar after so long away. Is this really our school? I was that disoriented. The Songdo campus from before enlistment sticks in my memory more.
"My midterms are done, but yours?"
"Mine go until next Monday."
"What exams do you even have?"
"I know, right... It's exhausting..."
My sister groaned in weary defeat at the reality of exams stretching ambiguously over two weeks across the weekend. What should I do for her? Pet her head? A hug wouldn't hurt... Ah, but first things first.
"Mom stepped out for a bit. Said she was meeting someone."
"...Really?"
I patted the spot next to me on the sofa, and she scurried over. Then, instead of sitting there, she plopped her ass right on my lap and stretched out her body.
"Hey, you're heavy."
"You told me to sit, so I sat."
"I said the spot next to me."
"...Like this?"
I pointed to the sofa again, and Gyeo-ul briefly lifted off my thigh, twisted her body slightly, and sat back down on my lap the same way. She planted her sole on the sofa where I'd patted instead of her butt and grinned, grating on my nerves.
"I put it right next to your leg like you wanted, Oppa."
"Mom's out, but we don't know when she'll be back."
"...Then we just go somewhere she can't see?"
Her arm casually looped around my neck, legs bent just right—perfect for slipping my hands under and lifting her up. I couldn't resist that temptation as she whispered in my ear in a tiny voice. One arm around her back, the other under her knees, I hoisted Gyeo-ul up.
...I'd said it as a joke earlier, but she really has gotten heavier. Maybe from working out together—gaining some muscle?
"...To your room?"
"Nah, not there. Your room's better."
"Why?"
"It's... less suspicious?"
Of course I knew that. It was just a formality. I preferred hearing her suggest my room over dragging her to mine.
"Alright. Sleep soundly in my bed, and we'll eat dinner when Mom gets back."
"...Oppa."
"What."
"Cut the joking."
"What joke?"
It meant something similar. I gently laid her on my bed, tucked her in carefully, and stood there staring at her face.
How did things end up like this? Should I hold back on direct expressions? I'd gotten hooked on roundabout affection.
"Don't you wanna get in here...?"
"Where?"
"Under the blanket... it's so warm, all soft and fluffy... There's a squishy pillow... Don't you wanna hug it?"
She buried her face in the pillow, peeking at me slyly with one eye while lifting the blanket. Same for me.
"The cover's soft too?"
"Yeah. Great material—no pilling. Feels nice to touch... doesn't stain easily."
"...Guess I have no choice then."
"Yeah, here... "
Sometimes I think we're bickering over nothing, but no one's really losing, so why stop? Moderation is key to keeping emotions alive. Being too openly lovey-dovey might make us sick of each other. Eye contact and hugs under the blanket? Perfect balance... or whatever.
"...A bit chilly?"
"Oh, that's 'cause it's exposed... Here, it's warm."
She grabbed my hand from her cheek and slipped it under her clothes. Her belly, warmed under the shirt, felt firm—more abs than soft belly now, but either way, I loved it. I stroked gently with my thumb, finding her navel. Here. Pressed it firmly.
"What're you doing, Oppa?"
"Just... felt something squishy, so I poked."
"Navels aren't for poking. ...They're for this, Oppa."
Gyeo-ul lifted my t-shirt slightly, pressed our bellies together, hugged me tight, and aligned our navels. I never got why she loved this so much... but over time, I think I do. Hard to describe... feels good. The rise and fall with each breath. Subtly erotic without being overt.
"...Wonder when Mom'll be back."
"You want her back soon, Oppa?"
"Maybe in two hours."
"...I'd say ten."
"Isn't that a bit too unfilial?"
"You're one to talk."
Now we could even chuckle at exchanges like this. ...Damn, happy, but... no clue how to handle this one. They won't understand, right? Best to act like they don't know, even if they do? Or go full confrontation and get wrecked? I've tried the former and ended up with the latter so far. Still no idea what the answer is.
"...Stroke my hair, Oppa."
"Like this?"
"That messes up my bangs! ...Gently."
I ruffled her hair playfully, then smoothed it slowly with my fingers. Still tons of worries... but being like this makes me think it'll all work out. Has so far. Being together turns me positive. Even after that day I threw everything away to end it, things patched up. The insane trembling back then killed my exam nerves. Good people around help too... anyway, my self-esteem's at an all-time high.
"Hear footsteps, Oppa."
"Ten more seconds?"
"Then for ten seconds..."
Quick light kisses during those short steps up the stairs. Maybe that's the source of my confidence? Someone who always believes and supports me, no matter what. Someone I must do the same for. No time for bad thoughts. Being an incestuous freak is enough—no need to betray everyone and rot in a room as a total scumbag. The world's not full of saints anyway. Those people live fine too.
"Mom's home~ Oh my. Daughter's here too."
"Yeah."
"What were you two talking about?"
"She said she's tired from exams, so I was listening to her vent."
"I see?"
Mom glanced at me on the chair and Gyeo-ul perched on the bed, then headed back to the living room. ...We both know who she met. Time flies.
"...Good meeting?"
"...Saw him."
"How was it?"
"Not as old or worn as I thought. I've been through hell, and he's fine—kinda pisses me off."
"Come on, you're still young, Mom."
"Anyway, my son's got a way with words."
Did I say only good people around me? True enough. Hardly anyone I think is truly rotten. If I had to pick, me and Gyeo-ul are the worst. Fucking selfish.
"...You two free Saturday?"
"I've got plans with a friend, Mom."
"Gotta buy juniors food."
"Sunday then?"
"I've got a Monday exam..."
"Date with that junior, can't make it."
"No bullshit, son. ...Sunday okay?"
Not around me, but someone more selfish lurks around Mom. Personality's genetic, huh. About time we met. An adult who could rival me morally.
"Sure."
"...Alright. Wanna see Dad?"
"...With you, Mom?"
"Whatever's comfy for you..."
"Then just us two. Hey, Gyeo-ul. Wanna come?"
"Exams, Oppa."
"Guess I'll go alone. Number, please."
Still no clue why he came back, and no contact since. Calling out of the blue after half a lifetime of nothing during isolation? Weird. He keeps in touch with Mom steadily—must have some plan. Not that it matters much.
"...Dad's number. I'll set up the meet."
"Can I punch him once when I go?"
"Not too hard. He's still your dad."
"Pfft, dad? Blood doesn't make a dad."
"Kid. With your build, you'd kill him."
"Same blood, so he's built big too. Won't die."
I'm not unwilling to understand. Forgive? Who are we to forgive? Excuses? I could hear 'em a hundred times. ...So let's meet and talk. Why'd you do it, why're you back? Don't care... Just curious what he can do for us. A rich, handsome guy Mom likes... maybe he can do something for his kids?