The Way They Look at Each Other (2)
Not long after I started my third year of cram school life, Mom asked me one day.
"How's the studying going? Making good progress? Your mock exam scores came out pretty well this time, and your dad was secretly pretty hopeful about it."
"Aigoo, I'm dying here, Mom. I really busted my ass, but I'm scared to death the results might suck. Dad said this is my last chance, that getting into any old four-year college in Seoul isn't good enough. I gotta aim for one of the top three prestigious universities."
It wasn't just whining. Lately, Dad's glances had been getting sharper, and the constant tension was making me feel like I'd throw up every time I ate.
"Your dad's holding back a lot too. You know how much he asks about you when he's with me? He's trying his best not to show it."
"I can feel it just from his looks—what more is there to say? I've lost over five kilos already. Guess you could call it a meeting of minds. I can feel Dad's expectations crystal clear, and it's killing me."
"You've gotta live with that kind of tension. Think of it as training for the pressure you'll feel on exam day."
Mom's words, delivered with a smile, didn't comfort me at all. I poured out my grievances like a complaint.
"But last time, I got into a solid mid-to-upper tier Seoul university. That was my achievement, right? Dad wasn't satisfied. He says if I don't hit the top tier this time, he'll disown me or something. And anyway, my brother's already at Korea University—why me too...?"
I couldn't finish. Mom's eyes had narrowed into a fierce glare, and it had been so long since I'd seen that look that I clamped my mouth shut.
"You think your dad does this to torment you? That just because Minhwan got into a good school, he has no expectations for you? Would you want that? For him to treat you like you don't exist?"
Mom was right, but I still had my gripes.
"No... honestly, isn't it true that Dad's number one is always my brother, with all the expectations piled on him? So why drag me into it too...?"
"No!"
Mom's sharp retort cut me off again. She rarely raised her voice, but when she did—especially that firmly—it made me even more cautious than when facing Dad. And her next words left me gaping at her in stunned silence.
"To your father, number one isn't your brother. It's your mother. Me."
Was she joking? Or bragging? I stared at her face, dumbfounded. But her expression was dead serious.
"Then your brother comes next. I won't deny that. They say no finger bites without pain, but some hurt more, and some are more vital if injured."
What the hell? Isn't Mom the type to say all kids are loved equally?
I figured she was teasing me after all. It basically meant my brother was still more important.
"And third place is you."
"...So I'm dead last...?"
Mom cut me off again.
"I said third. Out of everyone in the world, you're third. No one from outside our family could bump you down. And you're still resentful? Just because it's 'only' third?"
I'd never thought that far. The alienation I felt at home left no room for such calculations.
Third...?
She'd only pitted me against my brother in a binary way before. Her words were revolutionary, something I'd never considered, hitting me like thunder.
I lost my words, staring blankly at her mouth.
"Someday—maybe not far off—you'll understand too. What price your father paid for you. Then you'll get him a little better."
Her next words made no sense, though.
"And... to this mom, what number are you?"
That hit like a bombshell. I'd never pondered it—resentment toward Dad had overshadowed everything. I'd always taken Mom's love for granted, leaning on it without question. It felt like a confession of her silent, one-sided love for me all these years.
A fierce, devoted love.
Mom...
Her eyes were still warm, but now laced with a poignant sadness I'd never noticed.
"I've always kept you closest to my heart. Your gasping from that childhood heart condition, your pale face—they haunt me. I had to keep you under my wing, watching over you. Even when your brother was splashing in the sea, learning to swim, I stayed by you on the sand, playing. Despite your dad saying to stop, I carried you everywhere until you started kindergarten. I was terrified if I looked away even for a second, something might happen."
Her love was immense, far beyond what the word "mom" implied.
"Your dad worried I was spoiling you rotten, and I fretted if I was raising you without discipline. But seeing your face, I pitied you and showered you with attention anyway."
I didn't know when I'd started taking it for granted, but forgetting those childhood moments already made me an ungrateful son.
"And your brother... he watched it all. How I always put you first over him."
Then it clicked what she meant.
"What do you think he feels about his place with me? Has he ever whined like you?"
Compared to him again—and by Mom, not Dad—I couldn't argue. He'd always been respectful, saving allowance for lavish birthday gifts, never causing trouble, making her proud at school. Compared to that, I was such a kid.
I couldn't lift my head.
As I sulked, head down, Mom approached and gently straightened my hair.
"Ranking who's first to whom is meaningless."
Her soothing words pierced my heart differently this time.
"But still, your dad and I have one wish for you brothers."
At "brothers," I looked up into her warm, embracing eyes, smiling at me.
"We hope you two—you and your brother—can be each other's number one."
It felt like she'd confessed her one-sided parental love just to say this.
"Even if he makes things hard or hurts you, remember my words. As family... stand with your brother."
Sadness tinged her final words. I tucked them—and her voice—into my memory.
Who could deny Lee Yeon and Kim Minhwan made a perfect couple? If they'd met by fate one day and whispered sweet nothings, it would've been a blessing.
But Yeon noona refused anything beyond brotherly feelings for Minhwan hyung.
I was shocked when I heard. Honestly, thrilled.
Thrilled I still had a chance. Knowing that made this time with her feel precious amid my lonely cram school grind. Like a heavenly gift.
For a fleeting moment.
"I thought you two were dating. Guess it was a misunderstanding. Haha. But even I, a romance noob, could tell hyung liked you. I figured he'd confessed ages ago and you accepted. Turns out I was wrong."
"Not entirely a misunderstanding. Half right."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"He confessed. Multiple times. But I wanted to stay as his little sister."
The smile vanished from my face.
"M-Multiple times? Hyung? And you turned him down?"
"Yeah."
"Wh-When?"
"Last year. And the year before. White Day, his birthday. And my first coming-of-age day."
"........"
I could barely believe my prideful brother kept confessing after rejections. But the real shocker was something else.
"Doesn't it feel awkward? Hyung never showed it. You okay with that?"
"What?"
"You know, acting normal—no, sometimes like a real couple. Was that... my imagination?"
"Probably not. Neither of us are the type to let emotions drag others down. And I knew Minhwan oppa wouldn't back off that easily."
"Whoa..."
Even for someone as mature as her, this was next-level cool. Unfathomably bold.
She nodded understandingly at my reaction.
"We've known each other—you, Hyun, Minhwan oppa, and me—for how many years? Twenty. Parents say we met as neighbors in early childhood. Hard even for folks over forty to have bonds that deep. You gonna let emotions wreck it?"
Twenty years. Fifteen I remembered. Stacked with memories, mostly joyful.
They had to be preserved. So she asked again.
"If... if you really like Hyun... would you hide it forever as oppa-little sister? Or risk an unknown end and start fresh as man and woman?"
Hyun out of nowhere? I almost laughed it off despite the serious talk.
"No, I've never seen Hyun that way..."
But the laugh wouldn't come.
Wait...?
No trace of a casual smile on my face. Nor on Yeon noona's, staring piercingly.
Her observant silence held no prior playfulness.
Hating the heavy quiet, I gritted my teeth.
"I've never felt more than brotherly for Hyun..."
"And me?"
"Huh?"
"How did you see me?"
"...What?"
Her question hit right after mine, leaving me dumbfounded. I instinctively knew what she meant, but it felt unreal, so I just echoed.
Staring straight, she said,
"Minhwan oppa knew. Some lines you don't cross. Ignore others' eyes, judgments, obstacles—charge ahead. I just respect that. Blocking it would trash twenty years."
"........"
Memorizing math formulas, English words, Korean history—that was my world hours ago. Now adult complexities blindsided me.
But she pressed on.
"Remember this: To change a bond, don't cling to twenty years past. Embrace the future ahead. Half-assed courage is worthless—worse than nothing. Sometimes, even 'family' doesn't matter."
I couldn't guess who she meant. Her words were radical in another way.
Funny how chasing an out-of-league woman filled my stomach, and someone might say hunger sparked stray thoughts. But I swear—I'd agonized endlessly before. Still wavered recently, but clung to beautiful past memories.
Confession isn't just spilling hidden love. It's voicing the truth sustained over years.
With Yeon noona's favorite flower.
Once at a relative's wedding, seeing the bride's bouquet, I wondered how she'd love it. Learned the name: Vinca.
Flower language perfect: 'friendship,' 'happy memories,' 'eternal love.'
I imagined her joy, even pictured her holding it beside me someday.
A long-cherished truth.
And coincidentally, I learned more. Around White Day, tempted to gift it and confess one last time, I searched online.
Found the origin myth: Thai princess and her young retainer. Forbidden by family and court. Love unfulfilled in death, blooming as Vinca.
Mind blown. Asia's Romeo and Juliet.
Flower words joyful, legend tragic.
Parting in life completes eternal love?
I skimmed then. Now, rereading, I recalled it. Knowing flower-loving Yeon would grasp my confession's depth.
I prepared the flowers. Vinca blooms spring to summer.
Awaiting that day.
"And me?"
"......."
"Not my sister—how did you see me?"
Fuck, déjà vu? Where'd I hear that?
Before recalling, I met Lee Hyun's eyes.
Cold aura chilled me, but her gaze burned like a volcano. Words failed; coffee threatened to come up.
She throws curveballs like this?
Not ready to hold that fiery stare, I closed my eyes, steadying amid cafe music. Gathering thoughts.