A Way to Keep Talking
“Hyung….”
Is it okay for you to leave me behind?
How unbothered my brother looked—it felt foreign to me, like I was seeing a stranger.
Was I the only one who couldn't accept this?
Everything in front of me went blurry.
“Minho, we were the lucky ones. How many people ever get to say goodbye like this? I'm just glad I got to really talk with you.”
“Me too. I'm glad.”
I forced the words out through a trembling voice.
“Then can't we just… keep going like this? I'm really okay, hyung. I mean it.”
To my desperate question, my brother answered with an apologetic smile.
“I'm sorry, Minho. But no means no.”
The firmness in his tone sealed my mouth shut.
The future I'd been picturing just minutes ago shattered in an instant.
How am I supposed to live now?
Could I really go on without him?
The hopelessness stole the air from my lungs.
He soothed me gently from beside me, but his words wouldn't parse—they simply scattered, meaningless sounds.
After staring blankly for a long while, I finally spoke.
“What am I supposed to do without you?”
“You'll be fine. Like you always have been.”
No. I shook my head hard.
“After you left, I fell apart. I wasn't living, hyung. I only pulled myself together when you came back. If you go, it'll happen all over again. And you're still leaving?”
Are you really abandoning me?
My voice shook beyond all control.
When I handed him words coated thick with tears, my brother laughed.
“Our Minho—I thought you'd all grown up… but you're still such a baby. Throwing a tantrum like this.”
His blurred hand brushed across my cheek.
“What should I say—you've always been too steady for your own good. You've never once whined about anything, not even when you were little.”
“…….”
“And honestly, that always bothered me. I hear from friends that brothers fight and roughhouse all the time, but you followed me around so well we never had a single real fight.”
That's because you were someone I couldn't help but follow, hyung.
I wanted to say it, but I couldn't bring myself to open my mouth.
The moment I did, I felt like the emotion filling my throat to the brim would come pouring out.
“Come to think of it, I guess that's what I regretted. I always wanted to see you fuss and whine at least once. Is that why I've been clinging around even after I died?”
My brother put on a playful tone, as if trying to lighten the mood.
But I couldn't laugh.
When I still couldn't calm down, he made a small groaning sound and sank down in front of me.
“Minho, you're going to do just fine. Don't worry.”
“I… I don't know about that.”
“I do. You'll get through it. I know you will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I couldn't even tell whether I'd hold up myself—how could he know?
I swiped roughly at the blur of tears clouding my vision.
When I looked up, I met eyes brimming with laughter.
“Because there are plenty of people besides me. The ones standing beside you.”
“…….”
“Mom and Dad are still there. Your friends, too.”
At my brother's words, the people I'd talked to recently surfaced one by one in my mind.
Heeju, who'd laughed with such easy clarity when I turned down her confession—then let's just stay friends.
The security guard with the stony face who'd started all those rumors, then shown me photos of his family.
Every one of them was someone I'd been able to talk to because my brother had been there, advising me.
The gifts my brother had given me.
“When things get hard, it's okay to lean on the people around you.”
Try trusting the people beside you a little more. That was what he'd said.
“And just because you won't be able to see me anymore doesn't mean there's no way for us to talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you before, didn't I? To talk with someone, you need a language.”
“Yeah.”
Korean, English, Korean Sign Language—whatever the tongue, you need the tool called language to speak with someone.
A means of conveying your thoughts and understanding what the other person says.
“But even without a way to talk, we'll keep on talking all the same.”
“…How?”
The eyes before me shone bright and clear.
“Because I'll always be beside you.”
“…….”
“I'll stay in your heart. That alone means we can talk anytime, anywhere.”
My brother didn't open his mouth again after that.
And yet, without a single word, I understood exactly what he wanted to say.
Meeting those eyes staring straight at me, I slowly lifted the corners of my mouth.
“Yeah….”
I answered through trembling lips, and smiled.
My brother, wiping the tears as they fell, smiled too.
“I will.”
I'll do what you said, hyung.
As if to praise me, a gentle hand settled on my head.
I shouldn't have been able to feel anything at all—but strangely, in that moment alone, I felt the touch on top of my hair.
And with that, my brother left.
“Minho! You have to eat breakfast before you go!”
“I'm late!”
“Just have this, then. One spoonful.”
“No, I'm seriously going to be la—”
Midway through cramming my feet into my shoes, a spoonful made it into my mouth anyway.
“Mmph.”
“Chew it properly.”
Chewing something that might have been fried rice, or maybe not, I yanked open the front door in a rush.
“I'm off!”
Mom saw me out with a wave and a call to take care.
I sprinted down the alley in a scramble, and before I knew it, the school was right in front of me.
“Hi, Minho!”
The moment I stepped into the hallway, Heeju—the girl whose confession I'd turned down, now my friend—greeted me brightly.
I raised a hand in return and headed into the classroom.
The instant I pulled open the classroom door, the bell rang out.
“Whoa, that was way too close.”
“Jung Minho, did a screw come loose or something? You're late every single day.”
I smacked the back of my friend, who was needling me to take school as seriously as he did.
When I sat down at my desk, brilliant sunlight streamed in through the classroom window.
Beautiful weather again today.
The sky stretched overhead, impossibly blue.
Amazingly enough, I was living well, even after hyung vanished like that.
Part of it was the resolve to stay strong, knowing he'd always be watching over me.
Of course, the grief didn't just evaporate.
Some days it felt like I might drop dead on the spot.
Sometimes the simple thought that he wasn't beside me anymore would bring tears out of nowhere.
So one late night, I went to my parents' room.
As they rose from the bed with startled faces, asking what was wrong, I asked:
When you miss hyung, how do you bear it?
It was the first time since his death that I'd brought him up to my parents.
They stared at me in surprise for a moment—then pulled me into their arms.
We struggle too. Sometimes we cry at night.
…Really?
Of course. But we try to hold on.
They said they tried all the harder because I was here.
Only after hearing that did I finally understand what my brother had meant.
So that's how it is. That's what he meant.
Everyone lives by leaning on someone.
That night, my parents and I wept our hearts out in each other's arms, the three of us.
When I said I missed hyung, Mom said she did too. Somehow, that made it a little easier to carry.
I gazed up at the clear sky beyond the window.
“Minho, it's your turn for the career counseling session. Just head to the teachers' office and go straight to your homeroom teacher's desk.”
I told the class president I'd be right there, then stood up to leave—only to turn back around.
“Hey, class president.”
“Huh?”
“Thanks.”
“Huh??”
I looked for a moment at his bewildered face, then walked out of the classroom.
When I entered the teachers' office, my homeroom teacher, as if he'd been waiting, gestured to the chair beside him.
“Sit here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We'll keep this short today. We'll talk about college applications next time, so… let's see. Ah, right—you were thinking of becoming a civil servant?”
He asked, glancing down at the paper on his desk.
My career interest form, submitted a month ago.
The blank filled in with the words civil servant caught my eye.
And that was barely a month ago.
Looking at the handwriting that felt like it belonged to a completely different person, I laughed.
“No. Not interested anymore.”
“What?”
“I was going to leave it blank, so I just wrote something down.”
“…….”
The teacher, who'd been studying the form, looked up at me.
His raised eyebrow twitched for a moment.
“Well. Fair enough, I suppose.”
I'd expected him to blow up at me, but to my surprise, he said nothing more about it.
“You don't have to decide your future this second. Take your time thinking it over. You've got plenty of it.”
A gentle tone, nothing like the man who chewed me out every single day.
I hesitated, then spoke up.
“There is… a job I'm interested in, actually.”
“What is it?”
Now that the words were actually out, I grew a little self-conscious under the teacher's gaze.
Embarrassed to push the word past my lips, I flicked the tip of my finger with the other hand.
One of my oldest habits.
Also the habit my brother used to nag me about constantly.
He'd have scolded me for fidgeting like a mess.
The thought had barely formed when the teacher clicked his tongue.
“Tsk. Stop flicking your fingers. You look ridiculous.”
“…….”
“So? What is it?”
A laugh almost slipped out at that.
Only now did I understand why hyung had come to find me.
“An interpreter.”
“What?”
Hyung, I'll find the people who can't speak to anyone, and I'll help them. I'll show the world that there are still ways to reach each other. Did you know?
You're someone I can't do without, hyung.
So—hyung.
I'll let you go now.
I think I finally can.
“I want to become a sign language interpreter.”
The words leaving my mouth came back to my own ears.
Only then did a silly, weightless laugh bubble up out of me.
After the shoot had wrapped completely, I called Lee Euntaek over to my place.
“Read this.”
“Huh?”
When I handed him the script without a word, Lee Euntaek accepted it in a daze.
“What's this?”
“A script I wrote.”
“Oh, the drama you just finished shooting? Uh… wait, am I allowed to read this?”
At his hesitant voice, I told him he had my permission.
He gave me a puzzled look—I was unusually quiet today—but soon turned the first page of the script.
In the silence that filled the room, the only sound, every so often, was the soft flutter of pages turning.
It was four episodes' worth, so it didn't take him all that long to finish.
“…Okay. I read it all.”
Having read through to the very last page, Lee Euntaek set the script down on the desk.
I sat still, waiting for his reaction.
I was bracing myself for whatever might come back at me—when Euntaek strode straight toward me.
“Oof—”
He pulled me into a hug without a moment's hesitation.
With zero restraint behind it, the grunt of air leaving my lungs came entirely unbidden.
“Our little guy's really all grown up. Look at you. Just look at you.”
The hand patting my back was clumsy, like he'd never done it before in his life.
I told you to stop calling me 'little guy.'
I wanted to grumble, but given what day it was, I stayed quietly put.
Before the drama aired, I'd wanted him, of all people, to read the script.
I was curious what he'd think of it, yes.
But more than that—I wanted Euntaek himself to confirm that I was allowed to think like Minho did.
“Lee Yeonjae.”
“Yeah.”
“…Jaehee.”
The hand stroking my back pressed down harder.
As if to hide his expression, Euntaek buried his face against my shoulder.
“Me too. I miss him too, Jiheon-hyung.”
“…….”
“You think he can see us like this?”
I hesitated a moment, then answered that I didn't know.
I'd written the script hoping it was true—but reality was always something no one could ever really know.
Even at my uncertain answer, Euntaek said it once more.
“Then I'll just believe it anyway.”
“Yeah.”
“I'm sorry I've been such a brat to you all this time. From now on, I'll be at least as grown-up as Jiheon-hyung was.”
I stayed quiet at that for a moment, then answered softly.
“You won't manage that….”
“What was that, you little punk?”
The crude retort flew out of him instantly.
I let out a sigh and smacked Euntaek on the back.
“Start by quitting the swearing, hyung. How does a trainee idol have such a filthy mouth?”
“Hey, it's only around you, okay? I behave just fine otherwise.”
“Fine, my ass.”
“Why you—”
For all the times he called me a baby, he was every bit the child himself.
I smoothly dodged Euntaek's hand as it swung for my forehead.
“No more violence from now on. Swearing's banned too.”
“Hey, you're the one who needs to behave! You kick people the second they look at you wrong!”
Euntaek lunged at me, face contorted in wounded outrage.
As if his quiet spell had never happened, the room erupted into a crashing, chaotic racket.
Wrestling and bickering with Euntaek, I thought to myself:
I think I can do this.
Somehow, it felt possible—right now, in this moment.
So this is what it feels like to finally be able to say it.
Take care, hyung.
I smiled as I thought it.
Through the window, I could feel the moonlight over the night sky.
Goodbye, Jiheon-hyung.