12. Vodka
The date changed, and the appointed time drew near. My sister seemed somewhat recovered, but I still decided to let her rest today. It wasn't like she'd be alone—Mom was there. I knew it might come off as overprotective, but better safe than sorry.
...Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd want to stay home today too. Tomorrow feels more important, though.
As noon approached, I got ready to head out. Mom, who was watching TV, called out to me.
"Son, where are you off to today?"
"Meeting a friend."
"What kind of friend?"
"A buddy who's heading into the military soon."
"No girlfriend yet?"
"...Don't I have to go out more for that?"
"You didn't make one even when you were out and about."
"No plans to get married."
"Marriage is your call, but you should at least try dating while you're young. You won't get another chance like that."
"It's not exactly up to me."
"Aigoo, I raised you perfectly fine, and you're not putting it to use."
"Better than using it weirdly."
"You always have a comeback."
We bantered idly as I slipped on my shoes, and that's when my sister emerged from her room. She shuffled over slowly, looking just like a little squirrel.
"Oppa, leaving already?"
"They're gathering for lunch first, then more as time allows."
"...I see."
"I'll be back."
"...Okay."
"I'll call before I head home."
"Yeah."
"Call if anything comes up."
"...You drive safe, Oppa."
I said goodbye to Mom and my sister, then stepped out. It had been a month since my discharge. My friends, whom I hadn't seen in ages, were the same as ever. It bothered me that only I had changed.
I realize it every time, but cocktails are so damn sweet. ...And they go down endlessly because of it.
We kept pouring and chugging vodka-based cocktails until I honestly felt like I might die. Not quite at the puking stage, but I couldn't think straight. No way I could take the subway home, so I grabbed a taxi. The time... was pretty late. Just before midnight.
Thankfully, they hadn't locked me out.
"I'm home."
I greeted the empty living room and headed straight for a shower. My head was a mess. This was exactly why I shouldn't drink too much. Chatting with friends, I'd realized I couldn't say a word about what had happened in the past month.
With the water pounding my head, the alcohol buzz intensified. I roughly toweled off and changed clothes. As I reached for a glass of cold water, I noticed a faint light seeping from the next room.
...Still up?
I knocked lightly and opened the door.
"Gyeo-ul."
"...Mm."
"I'm coming in."
"...Huh? Wha?"
She was dozing face-down with only the desk lamp on. A quick scan showed workbooks on the desk.
...She really doesn't listen.
I slipped inside and closed the door.
"...I told you to rest through the weekend."
"...I-I'm feeling better now..."
"Still, just in case—that's why I said rest."
"...Sorry."
"...No need to apologize."
I knew she'd get anxious doing nothing, but it still worried me. Especially after seeing her struggle to breathe.
"That anxious, huh?"
"...Yeah."
"But you said the mock exam went pretty well."
"...Yeah."
"If you did well this time, you'll probably ace the Suneung too—as long as your condition holds."
"...Yeah."
"...Not trying to scold you. Just worried."
"... "
Maybe a bit preachy. But I couldn't stand seeing her shut down. Or struggling.
...The booze is making me spill my true feelings.
"...I'm beat, so I'll crash here."
"Huh?"
"If I leave, you'll just study again."
"... "
I didn't want to overthink it, so I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. The mattress was so soft, I had zero motivation to get up. After six or seven breaths, my sister lay down beside me.
"...Oppa."
"... "
"You sleeping here?"
"... "
Ah, the alcohol was a mistake. Should've stopped sooner.
"O-Oppa?"
"Gyeo-ul..."
For some reason, I wanted to hold her close. I always hugged something to sleep anyway. It just happened to be my sister instead of a blanket or pillow.
I wrapped my arm around her side and pulled her tight. She squirmed a bit, then settled.
I was sure I'd sleep deeply like this. Nuzzling my face into her T-shirt brought a whiff of fabric softener. I wanted to stay like this for days.
"O...ppa."
"What is it, Gyeo-ul?"
"It's... kinda... stuffy..."
"...The booze smell?"
"...Not that..."
"Then just a bit longer, then sleep."
I could see Gyeo-ul's face flushed bright red. Wait, I was the one who drank—why was she like that? Weird kid.
"...Oppa."
"Mm."
"Can I ask one thing?"
"Sure."
I wanted to drift off, but she wouldn't let me. The sleepiness that had been creeping in popped away.
"...When you go back to college..."
"...Yeah."
"...You'll get a girlfriend... or something... right?"
"No."
"...Why?"
"Forgot what I told you?"
"Marriage and dating are different."
"Not for me."
I thought they were the same. Weird worldview, sure. But that's me.
"...So no dating, no marriage?"
"Yeah."
"...Why?"
"My standards are higher than you think."
It's not like I didn't want to date, hug, kiss, overlap bodies, or spend nights together. Just hadn't met anyone I wanted that with.
Probably never would.
"Still, you never know..."
"No. No one fits my eyes. Ever."
"Why?"
"...Why tell you my ideal type?"
I'd probably never tell anyone. Too gloomy, even for me. Creepy.
"...So you'll live alone forever?"
"Told you. I'll mooch funeral rice off you."
"...Then."
My sister took a deep breath. Once, not quite calm. Twice, like steeling herself. Three times, resolute.
"...What if I said no marriage for me too?"
"...Mom would be sad."
"Why?"
"No grandkids if we both skip it."
Sorry about that. I'd make it up to her. I never wanted to betray Mom, even in death.
...Declaring no marriage already feels like some betrayal. But she's the understanding type.
"...And you?"
"Me?"
"What about you?"
"...Can you live alone?"
"I'm not a kid."
"You get super lonely."
"When did I."
"Always."
"... "
"We're both huge disappointments anyway. Let's live with Mom. No grandkids, so we'll spoil her with affection."
"... "
"Her home cooking's the best."
"...I."
My sister swallowed hard. Then, her voice cracked a little.
"...I don't get what you're thinking, Oppa."
"Why?"
"...I don't know what you want from me."
"Just wanna be close with my sister."
"...Then please."
Rarely, her voice turned firm. Laden with emotion.
"...Treat me like your sister."
"Always will."
"...So, like that..."
"Even if you don't treat me like an oppa, you're still my sister."
"... "
"Won't change, no matter what you think."
"... "
"So don't push me away."
"... "
"Don't avoid my eyes."
I'm not thick-headed. I read the room, understand feelings—not some psychopath.
That's why she's precious. That's why I'm trying to fix this.
Because I want Gyeo-ul to be my sister.
"...Oppa."
"Yeah."
"You drunk?"
"Yeah."
"...Forget it."
An arm around my neck. Then teeth on my skin. Same spot as last time. Maybe a hint of tongue.
Not painful, just light. A gentle nibble.
1 second. 2 seconds. 30 seconds. No sign of stopping.
"...Hey."
"... "
I flipped her over, pinning her down in a crawling straddle, trying to meet her eyes. But she trembled, gaze averted.
"It'll leave a mark."
"... "
No real intent. Just advice not to do things that leave traces.
But our Kim Gyeo-ul closed her wandering eyes tight... and tilted her head back, offering her neck.
"... "
I don't know why. To avoid awkwardness? Or the booze.
Whatever.
I bent my elbow, approaching her nape. A deep breath brought shampoo scent. Lips brushed her delicate skin, fragile as if it'd tear at a bite.
"Ha... uh..."
A moan escaped the instant my teeth touched. I pulled back fast, fearing blood. Instead, I sealed her with my mouth.
"...Mmph..."
10 seconds? 20? Maybe a minute. Like nursing, I sucked her skin, then carefully pulled away.
Even in the lamp light, the red mark was clear. More on her ear than neck.
"...Oppa."
She looked at me with an expression I'd never seen. Ah, I couldn't hold back.
Releasing my elbows, I collapsed, bodies merging.
"... "
Unable to fight the alcohol haze anymore... I buried my face in her chest and fell asleep.