Seollal Dread

Seollal, Seollal. Our family counts birthdays by the lunar calendar, so in a way, you could say we only just properly turned a year older now. If that's the case, then last year's end was truly horrific for us siblings. Dong-gi didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠show even a hint of knowing about our relationship after that day. Of course, I have no idea what she actually thinks, but she treated us like nothing had happened. Honestly, her intentions or thoughts didn't matter at all. What mattered was just that one fact: she was being considerate of us. I was truly grateful to Dong-gi for practically stopping her daily visits to the cafe, all because she didn't want to make us uncomfortable.

Grateful, yes—but it didn't exactly put me in high spirits. She was someone I could've stayed close with as a friend who knew, and Winter could've kept a casual sisterly connection with her too. But now, she was a complete stranger. We'd asked her not to get involved, not to pry, just to ignore us, and thankfully, she'd honored that request. I could feel my world shrinking bit by bit. Half by choice, half by force. Meeting anyone besides each other had become something I dreaded.

It would've been a day off normally, but as employees, it was one of the busiest. Still, I wasn't exhausted from the hustle. Lately, work felt more relaxing for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my heart—no room for stray thoughts. Making money is productive, right? If Winter and I quit even our part-time jobs, we'd probably hole up in the room and do absolutely nothing. If Mom's home, we'd naturally stick together watching TV in the living room or on the phone. If not, we'd pile into one of our rooms and stay tangled until she got back. As long as we were doing that, the nightmares stayed away, so we just couldn't stop. It wasn't about needing stimulation. It was just that comforting our weary hearts was the only way we knew how.

"Oppa, let's go."

"...Yeah, let's."

I dragged my tired feet toward the station with my sister. We boarded the train to Big Aunt's house, clinging for balance amid the jostling crowd in the subway car. Getting separated would be too unnerving, so I hugged her tight from behind. Of course, I wasn't crazy enough to grope her in public. I just held the strap with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist.

"I don't wanna go..., Oppa."

"...Me neither. I'd rather go home and crash."

We really didn't want to go if we could help it. We didn't want to see the relatives either. What the hell were we supposed to talk about? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Our days were all home, work, home, work. We sneaked in secret dates sometimes, but that was off-limits to mention. Still, no helping it—Mom had told us to at least stop by after work, so refusing was tough.

"Well, at least it's the weekend now... Nothing major happened this week."

"...Yeah. Lucky."

Exactly one week since Dong-gi found out about us. It was weird even for me, but once my mental state shattered, my sex drive seemed to vanish. We'd gone to a motel once this week, but it was that day for Winter too, so we didn't do it. I released the lust built up from her touches in the shower just once, then spent the whole daytime rate cuddling on the bed, kissing until we passed out together. No regrets about wasting money or anything—it was way more refreshing than the nights I'd collapsed in my room haunted by dreams.

"...If you're that beat, let's just say we're heading home early."

"...Yeah."

Kissing still never felt like enough, but I stopped obsessing over sex. Instead, I craved our body heat more than ever. Holding each other and talking beat wanting to do it. Sniffing each other's scents while kissing made everything else—sex included—irrelevant; I just wanted to sleep together. Even nightly phone calls to soothe each other had limits. Only falling asleep in each other's arms let us wake without nightmares. Voices alone weren't enough.

We got off the subway. Exited the station. Just a 10-minute walk to Big Aunt's now. ...Don't wanna go. The future was already crystal clear. Aunts and uncles crowding us, asking what we'd been up to. If we said we part-timed at a cafe together, the follow-ups were predictable: Isn't part-timing tough? How are your coworkers? Where do you work? Do they make good coffee? All that pointless small talk. It made me sick. They'd nag me about getting a girlfriend, and bombard Winter with college advice the second she got in. I could already picture it. Even Yo-han Hyung got ribbed about marriage whenever they saw him. Mom and Cousin Bro's wife might be fine, but the elders? No thanks. Just imagining it gave me a headache.

"Oppa, you don't wanna go?"

"...How about you."

"...Me neither."

If not for that day, we might not dread it this much. I could've brushed off girlfriend questions with "Haven't met anyone good yet." And pointless advice for Winter? I'd probably chime in eagerly. But now, seeing those faces felt unbearable. They meant well, wishing us the best. But we weren't mentally sound enough to lie shamelessly to their faces. One slip, and I'd puke. My head throbbed. Eating there would definitely make me sick. One wrong word, and I'd snap. Yelling we couldn't marry or date. That we couldn't even keep friends. That we'd have to cut off the ones we had by force. I'd probably lash out at innocent people.

"...You okay, Oppa?"

"Yeah... kinda rough."

I wanted to heed Mom's words, but I didn't even have the energy. Anywhere—just whisk away together for two days, time frozen, return like nothing happened, no one the wiser.

"Oppa... then..."

"...Skip it, Winter?"

"..."

"We're close anyway... Let's head home. Tell Mom our heads hurt too much."

"...Yeah."

We turned back through the turnstile we'd just passed, paid again, and re-entered the station. Sat on a bench waiting for the next train, called Mom, and lied once more.

Not a single lie in what I said—it was all true—but the call itself was deception.

"Sigh... Fine. Rest up at home. Take some digestive meds if your stomach's off."

"...Yeah. Will do."

"How's Winter? She okay?"

"She's wiped too... Here, you talk to her."

I handed the phone to Winter, signaling her to join the cover-up. She took it without hesitation and smoothly continued, no lies from her either.

No false words—just real headaches, nausea, stress driving us mad. The only fix? Something we could never utter, alive or dead.

"...Alright, both of you go home and crash. Have porridge for dinner or something. Meds are home—take 'em."

"...Yeah."

"I'll tell the aunts you couldn't make it. Rest up. Mom's drinking tonight anyway, can't head back. Crank the heat—it's cold. Eat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breakfast. Call me when you wake, got it?"

"...Yeah."

"Tell your brother no gym today—just sleep. Working out now would make it worse."

"...Yeah, got it. He's listening anyway."

"Good. Get home and rest."

"Yeah."

Click—the call ended just as the subway pulled in. Less crowded than before, but we clung the same way. No chit-chat, just enduring the jolts together, heading back to our unguarded home. At least until tomorrow morning, a place where no one's scrutiny mattered.