#129
Forgiveness. Lee Han-sol turned that word over in his empty mind.
‘Forgiveness…’
He raised his head while buried in Ki Baek-woo’s jacket draped over his shoulders. Baek-woo, who had been fiddling with the edge of the coat as if savoring the rare closeness, soon stepped back, seeming to know his place. Like a child who had committed a sin, he clasped his hands together and avoided Han-sol’s quietly reaching gaze. Beyond his flustered gestures, the sky-blue sweater he was wearing was visible. It had a familiar knit pattern to Han-sol as well. A sweater with sporadic pills from long wear. It was what Han-sol had given Baek-woo as a birthday present the year he turned eighteen. It brought back old memories.
When Han-sol had gifted the sweater, Baek-woo, who always wore dark clothes, seemed uncomfortable with the bright color and didn’t know what to do. He remembered how Baek-woo had fidgeted while watching Han-sol’s reaction, and only blushed after being told it suited him well.
That was so pretty, and it was so cute how he wore only that sweater every day despite his initial awkwardness, and it was so lovely how carefully he hand-washed it to preserve the gift he had received—back then, Han-sol felt he could do anything for Baek-woo. As always, he wanted to handle all difficult things on Baek-woo’s behalf. Because he was hyung, he repeatedly thought that he should make every effort to ensure Baek-woo’s happiness, that he would do so. That memory remained interwoven in the tight knit of the sweater.
The sweater was initially roomy, but became increasingly tight as Baek-woo grew. Still, Baek-woo stubbornly continued to wear it. Even when Han-sol bought him new clothes in similar colors, he persisted with unnecessary obstinacy. That continued until Jung Yi-dam appeared. And then, when was it?
Sometime in the past, some version of Baek-woo in some sequence had packed up his belongings and disappeared while Han-sol was away. Worn and faded things. His used toothbrush, old notebooks and colored paper in the bottom drawer of the small room, and even this sweater—that Baek-woo had thrown them in the trash and vanished.
Returning home with his exhausted body after a raid, Han-sol discovered this and had to stand still for a long time. He couldn’t pretend not to see it, nor remain calm, nor bring himself to pick it up or clear it away—he just stood there for a very long time. He thought about how futile the past was.
Things once cherished have no meaning. What matters is that they’re no longer needed now, and the destination for useless things is ultimately just the trash. So I, the current Han-sol, am nothing more than garbage to Baek-woo.
At that time, Han-sol had no more capacity to endure the overwhelming emptiness. He identified himself with the old clothes crumpled carelessly and stuffed into the trash. It happened naturally even without deliberate contemplation. Because that would be the truth. Baek-woo disliked even keeping Han-sol tucked away in a corner of his heart; he was so bothered by something that took up space with absolutely no use, he didn’t want to bear even the slight weight of a small memory, so he made it into trash and stuffed it in the garbage can. Han-sol could feel that sentiment all too well. He was tired and empty.
How long must this continue, I’m really sick of it…
He didn’t even feel sad anymore. Han-sol at that time sniffled habitually. It was around when he had become accustomed to being constantly miserable without a chance to breathe. After shedding lonely tears that no one acknowledged, Han-sol tightly tied the garbage bag containing the sweater with his feeble hands. He sealed it very firmly so that Han-sol, who had fallen to the status of trash, wouldn’t flow out of the bag. And with the heart of throwing himself away, Han-sol tossed it into the waste collection container.
Let’s stop now. I always thought that as hyung, I would handle all the difficult things for him, that I wanted to do that… So I should throw myself away on Baek-woo’s behalf. It’s time to give up. No matter how we were before, the past cannot overcome the present, and Baek-woo must be with Yi-dam. Because he’s a being who can no longer like me.
So let’s forget. I must accept that Baek-woo is not mine. Let’s not linger around him again, not want him, not try to love him. If it’s too difficult even after trying and trying… then I should try to resent him instead. I’ll never forgive him even if I die—it’s just a matter of enduring with intoxication in revenge. I’ll set conditions for something Baek-woo could never do, and say that unless he does that, I can never forgive him… that there is no forgiveness from me. Eventually, thinking like that will make it real. The brain has many loopholes, they say. Just look at Baek-woo who changed so suddenly. If it couldn’t even overcome external systems, deceiving oneself might be even easier.
Looking at the sky-blue of the sweater showing through the garbage bag, Han-sol at that time endlessly repeated such thoughts.
I dislike Baek-woo. I hate him so much I can’t forgive him. I’m so miserable because of Baek-woo that I find him detestable. Why must only I suffer? This is too unfair. Who made me like this? The culprit is Baek-woo. So I won’t forgive him even if I die. Unless he experiences exactly the same misery I went through, I can never forgive him. Never…
The sweater, permeated with that desperate contempt in every pill, was no different from the Han-sol of that time who was dying. It was ridiculous that Baek-woo was wearing it again. Even the fact that the fit that once clung tightly to his skinny frame now had some room was ridiculous. It seemed like Han-sol would die from how ridiculous it was that Baek-woo was wearing that clothing and asking for forgiveness.
“Forgiveness… words are so fucking easy, Baek-woo. Right?”
Han-sol felt lonely because this situation was so empty. He drooped his tense shoulders lifelessly and looked at Baek-woo desolately.
“How would I, like, forgive you? How should I do that? Tell me.”
“I, hyung… I did wrong, I…”
“Yes, you know now, right? What you did to me, you’ve seen it all, right? Seen it all in your magnificent dreams…”
At those words, Baek-woo’s damp gaze sinks darkly. Unable to grasp what to say, he only droops his long wet eyelashes downward.
“…”
His chapped lips trembled finely. Han-sol’s eyes watching this also trembled finely with emptiness.
“Yet you couldn’t even sleep because you were afraid of just such dreams. You having sleepless nights because of scary dreams. The dreams you had then were all that.”
“…”
Baek-woo nodded his head very slightly. Anger suddenly filled Han-sol’s expression, which had been reciting without vitality, without any elevation of emotion.
“I experienced that for real!”
“…”
“You! You did that to me! You made me like that!”
Han-sol shouted as if having a seizure and stepped back. Baek-woo’s jacket that had been draped over his shoulders fell lifelessly. Han-sol’s feet trampled it without concern as he stepped back one step, then another. Baek-woo looked at his fallen coat with lifeless eyes. Han-sol glared fiercely at Baek-woo.
“Forgive you. What should I forgive? You? Ki Baek-woo? I’m already like this, how? Is that easy for you?”
“…That’s not, it… I’m sorry, hyung…”
“Ha! Sorry? For what? Tell me, what are you sorry for? What isn’t it? Are you sorry for sticking with Jung Yi-dam like that? Or are you sorry for not just insulting me but trampling on me? Are you sorry for doing that how many times, how many times without you even knowing? Or are you sorry for not knowing anything after doing all that? What are you sorry for!”
“I…”
“Yes, you! You what! What isn’t it! ‘I didn’t know anything when I did it,’ ‘It wasn’t what I wanted,’ is that what you want to say? You did that before too. You said something seemed to be controlling you. So when you opened your eyes, you were kissing Yi-dam, so you pretended nothing happened in front of me, you said it with your own mouth! Is that what you want to talk about? That everything until now wasn’t your will, that when you opened your eyes I had become monster food, when you opened your eyes I was hanging myself, so it wasn’t something you did—is that what you want to say?”
Only large teardrops fell from Baek-woo’s red, swollen eyes. His lips, so chapped they looked painful just to see, moved slowly. Then finally, without making any sound, they quietly closed. He barely shook his head from side to side. Han-sol couldn’t even understand what that meant. Whether he was saying it was his fault, or it wasn’t his fault—in the frustrating situation, he felt dizzy and had no confidence in interpreting anything.
Why now? Why now of all times? Resentment boiled, making it difficult for Han-sol to breathe. He wanted to run away immediately. He had to live even when he didn’t want to, and couldn’t die even when he wanted to. So Han-sol had to endure. He had to endure and that’s how he ended up in this state. To somehow endure after giving up on Baek-woo, no, himself, no, everything, he had to sharpen his heart like a knife. He had to hone it as sharp and pointed as possible and stab Baek-woo, who had been everything in his life, like a voodoo doll at all hours.
You ruined me. You made me like this. If it weren’t for you, I would never have become like this. I dislike you. I hate you. I’ll consider you as insignificant as you are contemptible to me, and I’ll laugh at you looking down from the top of my head. You’ll think you’re throwing me away for your whole life. But that’s not true anymore. In fact, I threw you away long ago, and whatever the world is like, whatever your thoughts are, they can’t affect me at all. I dislike you more than you’re tired of me. Even if someday you regret and seek forgiveness, I will never forgive you. Never.
Contempt is my strength.
“But why! Why ask for forgiveness now!”
“…Hyung.”
“Don’t come!”
“Hyung, I…”
“Don’t come close. Stay there. Don’t come!”
Han-sol shouted sharply at Baek-woo who was approaching him with a hesitant expression. He stumbles backward as if trying to widen the distance as much as Baek-woo comes closer. Then he stepped on Baek-woo’s fallen jacket and staggered greatly.
“Hyung…!”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
