81. Unspeakable Words: Alcohol, the Perfect Enabler
Alcohol is a damn good drink. It loosens your tongue for words you'd never say sober, and if it exposes something you wanted hidden, you can always just blame the booze. Dongki acted like absolutely nothing had happened—picked up all sorts of stuff from the convenience store and never breathed a word about what went down earlier. Noona must've been too buzzed herself to notice that Gyeo-ul had been crying. Seeing my sister finally spit out the words she couldn't manage before eased my mind a little. No matter what happened, I felt confident our feelings for each other wouldn't crumble.
We wrapped up the drinking session not long after getting back and split off to head home. Dongki supported the wasted noona and took her to their place, while I steadied my staggering sister and brought her back to ours. She didn't seem that drunk, really, but she pretended to be so she could cling to me.
...Maybe we shouldn't go inside. Just hit up a hotel or motel—or even a jjimjilbang—and hold each other tight while we sleep it off.
I seriously started mulling it over once we were almost home, but then my sister wrapped her arms around my neck from behind, and all rational thought flew out the window.
"What's up? My neck hurts."
"...Carry me."
"We're basically home?"
"I wanna pretend I'm wasted and crash right away. Piggyback me... to my room, Oppa."
"...Fine."
Words spilled in a drunken haze. Or maybe words borrowed on alcohol's courage. Either way, once they're out, you can't take them back.
I got her desire to just pass out like this down to my bones. Even if it was someone irrelevant to my life who found out—someone it didn't matter getting exposed to—we'd been caught in something that shouldn't be exposed. It could happen again. To a friend. A cousin noona or hyung. An aunt. Someday... even to Mom.
"Go in and crash right away. Got it?"
"...Yeah."
"If you can't sleep, call me. ...Call me while you fall asleep."
"Yeah... I will."
I crouched down so she could climb onto my back. First time carrying Gyeo-ul like this? At least, I didn't remember it happening before. I hooked my hands under her thighs and trudged toward the house.
...Mom's probably inside. Gotta lay her down quick, wash up, and hit the sack myself. It was still kinda early, but this wasn't a day I felt like dwelling on anything.
I unlocked the door and swung it open. The living room light was on. Mom even came out to the entryway to greet us. She'd probably been watching her usual drama up until then. Just another ordinary day in our routine lives.
But the faint ease I'd felt moments ago turned heavy the instant I saw Mom's bright, welcoming face.
"Aigoo, my babies are back? ...What the—Gyeo-ul's out cold?"
"They said they were grabbing meat with Noona. She had some drinks and started wobbling, so I carried her."
"Aigoo, how much did she knock back? Lay her in her room first. She's totally lights-out."
"Yessir."
I kicked off my shoes and stepped into the living room, aware of Mom following behind as I headed to my sister's room. I eased Gyeo-ul, still on my back, onto the bed. Her eyes were squeezed shut, breathing steady and even in feigned sleep.
...Pretending again.
We slipped out quietly together.
"Sigh... what could be so tough she'd drink herself into a blackout...?"
"Nah, it wasn't anything like that... We were just eating with Noona and got caught up in the vibe, y'know?"
"...Then you, as her oppa, should've stopped her!"
"Aack! Why're you hitting me...?"
Mom let out a deep, worried sigh, but the moment she heard my fib, her face softened into a smile and she smacked my back with a sharp crack.
...Fucking hurts. It hurts, but I pretend it doesn't. Even if I spouted some drunken nonsense, it'd hurt her way more.
"The meat hit the spot, at least?"
"Yeah. Samgyeopsal was killer. Galbi was solid too."
"I was gonna grill some samgyeopsal soon, but screw that. You two ate without me."
"Nah, c'mon. We ate with Noona, so we gotta do it with you too."
...I want to tell her. Spill it all and feel relieved. Be understood. Hear her say she's on our side, just once.
"Always got a smooth answer. You didn't drink?" Your mouth looks fine."
"Whose son am I? A few shots of soju aren't knocking me out. Not if I'm not chugging like her."
"Your dongsaeng's slamming shots, and her big bro just sits there watching?"
"Noona was the one pouring—what was I supposed to do?"
I don't want to say it. Want to hide it forever. Anyone but Mom. Never her.
"Anyway. Got it. Go wash up and sleep. Even if it's the weekend tomorrow."
"Yup."
"Not hungry?"
"Stuffed to bursting."
"Part-time was rough—good job. Won't wake you tomorrow, so crash hard."
"...Yessir."
"I've got a lunch thing tomorrow, so if you wake up and I'm gone, heat up some soup and eat. Dried pollock soup's prepped."
"Got it. When'll you be back?"
"Before dinner. I'll make something tasty for then."
"...Looking forward to it."
I clenched my twitching throat as best I could, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the bathroom. Stripped down, turned on the hot water, and collapsed onto the floor as it soaked me.
...I can't do it. I could tell other people. Strangers? Doesn't matter if they find out—it's too risky a mess for them to even try meddling in.
But Mom... never her. It'd hurt her too much.
"...Wake up."
"...Ung."
"Wake up, Oppa."
"...Yeah."
Someone was shaking my shoulder like crazy, pulling me out of a deep sleep. A dream... a really bad one, but I couldn't remember it. I opened my eyes to see my sister, perfectly fine—nothing like the dream.
No real change, huh. Well... it was an outsider who found out. Less "caught" and more like we straight-up told him.
"Time for breakfast, Oppa."
"Yeah, right."
"Mom's out, so just us."
"Ah, yeah. She had that appointment."
"You heard too?"
"Yeah. I heard it yesterday."
Already gone? ...How long did I sleep? Felt like I crashed before 10 last night. Must've been over 12 hours at least.
"Everything's set, so just wash your face."
"...Yeah, okay."
I rubbed my crusty eyes and hit the bathroom to clean out the gunk. Dried off and headed to the table where my sister sat.
Rice, steaming dried pollock soup, kimchi, gim, fried eggs, and some maesil pickles. I sat right next to her and picked up a spoon to dig in.
The taste of my sister's homemade breakfast. ...Just your standard morning meal. Same old kimchi, same gim, same soup. Pickles were already in the fridge.
But the fried eggs were crispy and delicious. Yolk perfectly semi-soft—maybe she's got a knack for cooking. This kind of breakfast every day? Sounds good. Wonder if it's possible.
"When'd you get up?"
"About an hour ago. Woke up, Mom was gone, so I washed up, set the table... then woke you."
"Could've eaten first, then washed."
"You went to bed without showering yesterday—that'd be kinda gross. Bad to look at too."
"...Fair enough."
A spoonful of soup, and my head started clearing. We hadn't drunk that much, but with everything else, my brain ached. Not quite a hangover, but it felt refreshing.
"...But hey. Why didn't you pick up yesterday, Oppa?"
"...You called?"
"Yeah. ...After 11."
"Ah, sorry... Was asleep."
"You tired?"
"...Kinda."
Yesterday was exhausting. Emotions all over the place. No wonder I crashed hard.
The anxiety that we'd hit some catastrophic end someday wouldn't leave my head. Still, even if that future came, I wouldn't leave you. I wanted to take some comfort in that.
"...My fault, though. Sorry... Ah, you said don't apologize. ...Thanks, Oppa."
"Nah, it wasn't really your fault."
"No, no. ...It was. I got pissed for no reason yesterday. Maybe a bit jealous... or mostly just frustrated."
"If you hadn't yelled, I would've someday. Might be better it happened yesterday."
The table felt normal—except no Mom—but our talk was the kind we could never share with anyone. No matter how much my heart settled, no matter how many vows I made to never part, we couldn't tell a soul.
It was our problem.
"Still feels bad... for your friend Dongki."
"We're not even that close. You can tell just by looking—he's not the type to spread rumors. ...He'll play dumb, probably."
"...Yeah."
An unseen future. Terrifying. All we could do was clasp hands under the table.