Bend & Break | Wooyoung [Ongoing]

6 | he is a bro irritated by his bro

Him.

"WHO IS MINGI?"

AT THE end of the day, more was at stake, and so I was demanding to know. And I couldn't be certain Changbin would heed to me because I'd made the situation dire and so it'd transitioned to a life-death matter.

Even though I left Ar¡A, the most fulfilled I ever felt, an uncertain somberness engrossed me, for prior to all the fun times, there was the very short, very concise spell of a brutal reality check. I wasn't alone in this race, at the same time, it was an against not a for. It was as though it was the only form of sympathy to be salvaged. But it kept growing easier that I'd doubted altogether an unforeseen opposition surfacing when I was least expecting would make me jump out of my skin like a feline.

Dwelling in Changbin's apartment for all of an hour-thirty had, so far, been a winter storm. I got the idea I wasn't welcome since he made it clear to me that I wasn't. In front of Ar¡A as he hailed down a taxi, with me having it at the back of my mind that Muye might emerge through those automated doors if I was patient enough. Changbin was submerged in a shitty mood river—I'd dropped him in there, I was responsible. It usually meant I was deadmeat to him for the rest of the day. Yet I bird-dogged to his studio abode (which was a studio consisting mainly of his work thingamajigs, a bed, a kitchenette and a comfort area; a laundry and bathroom off to one corner, hence he had an excuse for shutting out the world), a half hour hike from mine.

Now it was sunset. Changbin had ordered a pizza, awaited its delivery, and promised solidly not to share. I intended getting in on some of it one way or the other.

"Ask him yourself," he said. Changbin'd been dishing out these aloof responses, somewhere in his head having enough faith to believe I'll both get the message and get the hell out of his hair. Out of his apartment. "He stops by work every now and then."

"Tell me."

"And then what, you fuel your stinking resolve to crank up the crassness? Wooyoung, I don't mind saying it again, stop while you still have the chance. Even if you think she's worth it, do it the right way."

Me, turning cynical: "You seem to care about her more than you let on."

Changbin, reaching new heights in annoyance: "You know what? Ignore me, forget what I said."

Me, loosing it: "Just tell me who Mingi is, why he's bringing her breakfast at work? Are they like a thing or something?"

Changbin, relishing it: "Or something. She never knows when he shows up. They have this unusual thing going on. He's like the guardian angel she's not supposed to find out about."

"So he's a restive ex."

I could find my way around an intimidating recalcitrant former boyfriend.

"No, he's her twin brother."

"Oh."

I might be able to find my bearings around an intimidating sibling. Twins, more fraternal than identical. I wasn't sure if I'd had cogitations regarding them yet, but I thought they unsettled me.

"The right reaction, right there." Changbin had a look on his face that I would love nothing more than to wipe off with a slap or even a fist. That he was so certain I would willingly back off now with this new discovery made me sorry for him. "He's pretty low-key, chill. Until you screw up," he paused and leaned in, "with his sister."

"Screw up."

"Tell me, have you ever had anything you had to protect? Something even the least bit close to a sister."

Speaking from an only child's perspective, no. In fact, I always thought I'd die without bothering to reflect on them. I never considered people I'd jump in front of a train for. Surely not me—I didn't love myself enough for that. I might take a broken leg for Bin or my parents. Perhaps my other dear friends. Who else?