4. A Sense of Distance

I never thought I'd get chewed out at this age for sleeping in a bed. I slept in one in the military too.... Lying next to my sister and exhaling a couple times, my consciousness cut out with a massive thud. I was dead to the world, clutching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the blanket, when Big Aunt's husband barged in to plug in his charger.

We both woke up, and with all the elders sleeping in the restaurant, we got an earful about what the hell we were doing. ...It was definitely Big Aunt's eldest son who'd slept in that bed with my sister before. And he'd gone home to sleep anyway.

I was so sleepy I was about to die, but getting scolded like that nearly brought out my high school temper. Mom and the aunts covered for us, so I held it in... but it still pisses me off thinking about it now. Do we really have to ruin the mood right up to the funeral?

Thanks to that, I got branded as the guy who stole the blanket and hogged it all to himself. Separate from that, the funeral wrapped up without incident. We laid Grandmother to rest next to Grandfather, had dinner at Big Aunt's place, called a substitute driver, and headed home.

The three of us crashed the moment we arrived and slept for over twelve hours straight. By the time we woke, the sun was high in the sky.

My phone buzzed like crazy, and when I grabbed it, it was a call from Mom.

The woman who'd pounded drinks yesterday, crying one minute and laughing the next, had just taken a quick nap and was back to normal. Impressive.

"Is Gyeo-ul still asleep?"

"...No idea. You didn't call her?"

"She always leaves her phone on silent and ignores it."

"Really?"

She picked up fine whenever I called. Wondering if she was still out, I knocked on her door, but no answer.

"Seems like it."

"Then wake her up and get her some food."

"...Got it."

"Mom's coming home late tonight, so make sure you both eat dinner too."

"Yep."

...My role's turning more and more into my sister's nanny.

I quietly turned the knob and slipped into her room. There was a lump on the bed. Seeing her fast asleep, hugging her dolphin-shaped cushion tight, made me feel bad about waking her. I poked her cheek a few times, but no dice, so I just pulled the half-kicked-off blanket back over her and left.

Anyway, we'd need to sort out food somehow. I washed up quick and checked the fridge. Three days abandoned—it was a disaster. Plenty of kimchi and such, but... even if I love home cooking, you need a main dish at least. We'd used all the eggs for egg custard last time.

Figured we'd order in. As I grabbed my phone, another call came in. High school friend. Didn't call once in the military, but hits me up right after discharge.

I hadn't told friends about the mourning since only relatives could visit anyway. Not like we were that tight.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Hmm... My stomach was flat against my spine right now. Waiting another hour sounded rough. Honestly, I was beat. Too lazy to go out.

...Wasn't lying, anyway. Hung up on the shitty-but-decent friend and headed to my sister's room. Still out cold. Grabbed her shoulder and shook.

"Hey, Kim Gyeo-ul, wake up."

"...Nngh...."

She buried her face in the cushion, scratched her neck, and barely cracked her eyes. Looked like mosquito bites—her nape was swollen in spots.

"Oh, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠oppa...."

"Noon. Get up."

"Yeah...."

"What for lunch?"

"Anything...."

"No such thing. Korean, Western, Chinese, Japanese—pick one to order."

"Porridge...."

"Porridge?"

Where'd that come from? She sick?

"Want porridge...."

"What kind?"

"Anything...."

Talking to her with her vocab tanked was messing with my head too. She was fine normally, so... yeah. Felt the age gap a bit. Can't put it right.

"Fine, ordering porridge. Wash up and snap out of it."

"Yeah...."

Shooed out the rubbing-eyes sister and ordered abalone porridge and beef veggie porridge. Figured I'd boil water for coffee while waiting, when her voice came from the bathroom.

"...Oppa. Turn on the hot water?"

She peeked out, soaked, asking. I'd turned off the boiler after my shower. Right.

Looked more awake after the cold blast.

"Yeah, hold on."

"Wait, oppa. Uh... can you bring clothes too?"

"Clothes?"

"Yeah...."

She'd gone straight to shower on waking—no way she'd grabbed any.

T-shirt and pants? Sure, but...

"...I'll hole up in my room. Shower then change in yours."

"Oh... yeah."

...No way was I digging through her closet for underwear. We're not kids with a ten-year gap.

"Why porridge all sudden?"

"Stomach feels off."

"You were too zonked to think straight—how'd you know your stomach was bad?"

"...The oppa who stole his sister's blanket in his sleep has room to talk?"

She polished off her bowl, tried for the sofa—but I was lying there first—and bam, verbal smackdown. The aunts teasing to lighten the mood twisted the facts. I didn't steal it; it was mine from the start. Same diff, though.

"Was gonna ditch you, but I tucked you in bed. Shouldn't you be grateful?"

"...Normal gratitude isn't gluing yourself and sleeping together?"

"Can't sleep on the floor. My back hurt."

"Your fault I woke up too."

"That on me? And I got yelled at—you didn't."

If it'd just been about hogging the blanket, fine. Is dozing in bed after night vigil that wrong? Still feels unfair.

"Wasn't yelled at, but the vibe was scary as hell."

"What'd I do."

"...You wouldn't know, but your eyes were terrifying."

"Mine?"

"If me and Mom hadn't stopped you, you'd have said something to Aunt's husband."

Whoa, seriously unfair. How many people try that hard to avoid trouble like me? My eyes are just sharp-born.

"I look like the type?"

"Not now."

"...Meaning back then, yeah?"

"You think not?"

"Hey, I was a dickhead in school sometimes. But I looked out for you. You too?"

"That's why. You get hyped on stress."

"Hyped doesn't mean I cause shit."

"See? Hyped already."

"Hey, seriously... whatever."

Where'd she learn to scratch my nerves like that? Cancelling "won't talk"—she communicates too well.

"...Mad?"

"Not mad."

"What, sulking then?"

"No, why sulk. Don't say weird shit."

"You're sulking."

Sulky-sulky, nudging my leg—pissed me off. Her toes poking my side from the sofa? Annoying.

"Hey, quit poking."

"Why? Sulking?"

"Just stop, damn it."

"Ack, don't touch!"

Today's disobedient sister irked me, so I snatched the poking foot. Eye for an eye—if you strike first, expect counter.

"Ah, tickles! Seriously, stop!"

"What, already? I barely did anything."

"Mosquito bite there!"

"Oh yeah?"

Left sole center—red swollen spot. Aha, weak point. Gripped tight with right hand, tickled sneaky with left fingers. She twisted wild, shoving me.

"Stop! Oppa, for real!"

"You started it."

"I said stop!"

"Ow, hurts!"

"Let go!"

She kicked with the other foot, so I paused, grabbed both. Barely subdued her wriggling, stroked soles with thumbs—she screamed, thrashed for mercy. Arms alone weren't cutting it, so pinned legs firm—easier.

"Haa... ha.... Oppa, stop...."

"Why'd you start then."

"Sorry, so stop...."

"Surrender?"

"Surrender, surrender. Please...."

Sweating buckets, voiceless—I figured enough, accepted. Released; she slumped, covered face, panted rough. Maybe overdid it—felt bad.

"...You okay?"

"...Not, so help me up. Can't."

Pulled her hand; she rose limp, head-butted my chest. Debating apology when pain hit.

"Hup."

"Ow! Hey, what!"

"Pff... revenge."

"Fuck, that hurts!"

"Hurt like hell for me too?"

Real bite. Vampire? Nape chomped hard. Bit more, she'd have torn flesh.

"Ah, mark's there."

"What?"

"Sorry."

Given the pain, no mark'd be weird... but midsummer neck bite? Bruise would suck.

"...Bad?"

"...No blood."

"Phew... okay."

Wanna gripe, but partly my fault—sighed instead.

...Hope it stays at swelling.

"...Sorry."

"Nah... I overdid too."

"...Why'd we fight?"

"...Dunno."

She started teasing, but tracing back—griped about shared bed scolding.

...Something off.

"...Gotta study soon."

"Yeah."

"Ointment if needed—under TV."

"Mosquito spray in my desk if you want."

"Okay."

She shuffled off. I checked drawer, applied ointment.

...Stings.

Getting closer to sis is good, but crossed a line today.

...Gotta dial back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the playfulness from now on.