Fueled by Love
The house I entered through the front door on Lunar New Year's Day was pretty chilly, probably because the boiler was off. I set the porridge I'd picked up on the way down on the dining table, turned on the heat, and flipped on the living room lights. Seeing the familiar arrangement of furniture calmed my heart a bit, but the headache lingered, unrelenting. Even as I sat at the table eating dinner with my sister, even after washing up in warm water, even after slipping under the electric blanket in the living room and closing my eyes, that vague anxiety showed no sign of fading.
With just the TV droning in my ears and my wet hair soaking the pillow, my sister crawled into the blanket beside me. ...Ah, come to think of it, we could've showered together today. Mom's not home anyway. We could sleep together in the living room just this once. I pulled her close as she wriggled into my arms and took a deep breath. Unlike mine, her hair was carefully dried—soft and warm.
"...Oppa, it's stuffy."
"Yeah."
"It's stuffy..."
"...Yeah."
Whenever I breathed in her scent, my sense of reality blurred. I didn't have to think about anything, worry about anything... Ignoring her protests, I hugged her tighter and pulled the blanket over us. She squirmed a little at first, then went quiet... "It's stuffy!"
"...Ow, Gyeo-ul."
"...I said it's stuffy."
...But instead of relenting, she pinched my side hard enough to force my eyes open. It really hurt, but my reaction was so flat it was almost weird, even to me. ...I'm totally out of it.
"Let's sleep in the bed..., oppa."
"...Too much hassle."
Not wanting another pinch, I loosened my arms a bit, but she stayed put in my embrace, trying to persuade me. What could she say to snap me out of this? ...If the roles were reversed, could I comfort you? No matter how high the walls we had to climb, if there was an end or even a way around, it wouldn't feel this impossible. Right now, it was like we were trapped in a basement with every exit sealed—no turning back, no escape, not even a sliver of sunlight through a window.
"...Oppa. You really gonna sleep like this?"
"...Dunno."
"Let's go to my room, oppa. We'll sleep better there. Your back'll hurt on the floor."
"...Okay."
She was trying so hard to accommodate me that ignoring her felt wrong, so I wriggled out from under the blanket. I stumbled into her room and collapsed face-down on the bed. No lust, no thoughts at all. How could we be happy? The answer to that question was formless, out of reach. Give up Gyeo-ul? That option didn't exist. Give up everything else? That wouldn't bring happiness either. Sure, it'd be better than losing her, but the suffering ahead was plain as day—heavy, crushing. ...Really heavy.
"...Gyeo-ul, you're heavy."
"You were stuffy earlier too."
She climbed on my back, pressing down with her full weight to keep me pinned. ...Must be all that exercise. She's put on a little muscle in no time. Last year she was skin and bones.
"Oppa... you tired?"
"...Exhausted."
"Because of me?"
"Nah."
I gave short answers without resisting, and she flopped fully onto me, breathing into my ear.
"...Tickles, Gyeo-ul."
"That's the point."
"Sorry, but..."
"Don't apologize, oppa."
"..."
Those were her exact words from that day I still remembered so vividly—I couldn't continue. She's trying so hard to cheer me up, and I'm grateful, but today... I don't think I'll snap out of it easily. Better to just sleep it off.
"Oppa... You gonna stay slumped like this forever?"
"I'll be fine after some sleep."
"...House is empty?"
"It's not like today only..."
"Haa... no helping it, then."
She sighed deeply in frustration, pulled away, flipped me onto my back, and straddled me again. She turned on the bedside sleep light, propped herself up with her hands beside my head—opposite how I usually pinned her—and gazed down before planting a light kiss.
"...Better?"
"...Yeah."
"You don't look better at all, oppa."
"...Kiss was kinda bland."
"See? You're loosening up if you're cracking jokes."
I couldn't help but smile a little at how thoughtful she was being. ...I love you, Gyeo-ul. Even after seeing me this broken, you still care. That's why it hurts more. Because I can't give you a happy future.
"...Oppa, can I say something? Will you listen?"
"When have I ever not?"
"...Listen like this."
Whispering in my ear as she asked me to hear her out, she nipped my earlobe just hard enough to jolt me awake. Then, in a slightly flatter tone than usual—as if to energize her weary brother—she began comforting me.
"We're... gonna live together, right? From now on. Forever. As siblings... loving siblings."
"...Yeah."
"Most people... probably won't understand. I get that too..."
"...Yeah."
There'd be no one. No one cheering on siblings who crossed that forbidden line. Not even me, if I weren't involved. Outsiders just couldn't comprehend.
"I love you, oppa."
"...Me too."
"I don't need anyone else to understand this."
"...We don't. But we can't ignore the stares. Even from strangers."
I didn't want understanding for this relationship. ...Liar. Of course I do. It's just impossible, so better they ignore it. And only from strangers. From the people we care about... I want acceptance.
"...Yeah, we can't live just the two of us forever."
We had school, jobs—life meant dealing with others' eyes. The deeper our bond, the sharper the suspicion, the disgust. Unavoidable.
"So... we won't get understanding. But we can earn acceptance. From others."
"...How?"
Without understanding, how acceptance? Who'd endorse incest?
"Any of your friends have little sisters?"
"...Dunno."
"Anyway, suppose one does. Imagine a friend seriously dating his real little sister."
"...Okay."
"If he lent you billions... could you call him out for incest?"
"...What're you even saying?"
...Where's this going? Ridiculous. I'd never owe a friend that much, and no sibling would cross that line anyway.
"Just answer. ...You couldn't, right?"
"...Probably not."
True, but that's debtor-creditor, not friendship...
"...If we make others owe us enough that they can't judge... they might not understand, but accept it. Or pretend not to know."
How much debt? A billion? Ten? Or not money—something else? If we're there for them in tough times, maybe one encouraging word when we're down?
"Oppa... I dunno about you, but I've kinda been outed to my friends already."
"...Right."
"They don't know if it's really you, but I admitted crushing on my real oppa, and they comforted me."
Crushing on oppa vs. crossing the line—huge gap. But if exposed, and they knew the agony... if they saw her as good, caring... maybe no outright hate?
"...And people care less about others than you think? They might not notice us. ...Or just think 'close siblings' and move on."
"...Yeah."
"If we make enough people who'll hear us out... Yeah, we're both shy, so it'll take work. But... maybe not everyone stares weirdly."
Which was easier? Indebted hearts or financial success buying silence? Nonsense logic, but... like light seeping through a basement crack.
"...So let's be happy, oppa."
"..."
"Never regretted falling for you. Not once."
"Me neither."
"Even without this, life would've been hard... with fewer joys."
That's why we couldn't turn back despite the pain—this path was happiest. Together trumped easier alone. No giving up.
"...You've changed me a lot. Stamina's better... learned so much from you. Owe you tons. ...You've made me happy, and you will forever."
"...In a naughty way?"
"...Feeling better?"
"A bit."
I love you. I want to be happy with you. With you, any hardship's conquerable. Endless affection from my love—how could my mood not lift?
"...I like you cheeky better than moping."
"Me?"
"See? Playing dumb again. You know."
Unrealistic, immoral, forbidden—didn't matter. With you, we'd make it.
"...Gyeo-ul."
"Yeah."
"Mom... won't accept us honestly, I think."
"What if we bring a hundred friends to convince her...?"
"...Think that'll work?"
Convincing maybe, but a hundred friends? Tough. Fifty? Live right, maybe possible.
"...Sounds hard."
"She'd never understand."
If she knew neither of us could be happy without the other... understanding hard, but acceptance? Hurt her, sure—but we'd comfort.
"Ah... oppa. ...If you're really suffering, desperate for understanding..."
Chewing guilt, pondering acceptance—she grew serious. Too deep? Her face darkened. She hugged me tight, trembling, pulling her last card to soothe me.
"O...ppa, I'll have your baby."
"...What?"
"Bear your child... raise it well... like Mom. When they grow up... maybe they'll understand us..."
"..."
"...If it's really no good... I'll... think about... getting pregnant... seriously."
The damp embers of my feelings for her reignited, blazing brighter than ever. Fueled by love.