It Ends with Us • Kim Mingyu

[twelve]

I have not moved an inch from the corridor for the past ten minutes. Ahead of me is the living room; a white rectangle of light streaming across its threshold. Jeonghan's silhouette paces in and out of the rectangle time to time. I was hoping to see my friend pass along as well, but it seems like he's just sitting somewhere, while Jeonghan there is losing his mind waiting for me to come down.

And I'm here, standing in the dark eavesdropping, sort of chickening out before I make my grand entrance. Well, I'm sort of distracted as well. Jeonghan's perfectly pointed nose and his tapering chin creates such a beautiful shadow — it's hard not to look and wonder if we came off the same womb, or if one of our parents took pity on me being abandoned by the riverside and decided to raise me as their own.

I'll say this though, when you begin to look at other things except the face, Jeonghan is more bone structure than flesh. It wasn't always this bad. His arms were lean, but they weren't scrawny like a two dollars french fry. His calves looked like calves and not some stick you wanted break in half and use as a back scratcher.

Now, I don't mean to say all that has any negative impact on Jeonghan's beauty. Jeonghan is unquestionably beautiful by merely existing, I just think he can, and should, be at a better place with his overall health. He should look at spinach, kale and broccoli without calling them green toxins he'd rather throw off the window. He should shut the fucking hell up and just eat them if he wants to improve his cycle of fatigue, and stop looking like he's about to faint any moment.

Some days, I wish Jeonghan does faint any moment. I wish he faints every once an hour, eventually ending up in the hospital. At least, that way he'll have no choice but to receive the medical support he needs, because I'm sick of him convincing me otherwise.

I'm sick of seeing Jeonghan's condition getting worse day by day; asking him what's wrong and never getting anything except "I'm fine, Mimi. Don't worry about me." I'm sick of getting my hopes high regardless, hoping for once he tells me, "I am not fine, Mimi. I am struggling and I need you to stay with me and help me get through it."

I'm sick of making myself small in front of my brother. Even after doing terrible by him and knowing how hard he is trying to forgive me for it, I still am so sick of it. If he needs help, he should just say he needs help. There's nothing wrong or inconvenient about it. Nobody is above basic human hardships, and Jeonghan should stop believing he is better at facing them alone than lean on the army of people who're ready to give it up for him the moment he says yes, I'll gladly accept the comfort you wish to offer.

What Jeonghan doesn't realize is shutting off people's genuine concern for him doesn't make him independent, or superior. It makes him an asshole for repeatedly treating his friends like they aren't worth his time. It makes me feel like crap for simply caring, and I already have too much making me feel the crappiest I've ever felt.

I want to stop feeling like this. I need to stop feeling like this if I want to get anything done, without the world crushing me beneath its feet. Things that are and aren't my fault — I need to stop feeling like crap all the fucking time.

And for that, I need to stop looking at Jeonghan's miserably gaunt shadow and focus on whatever bullshit this stranger-danger is cracking on the other side of the wall. I need to hear his voice loud and clear, and assure myself he is someone decent — a friend — perhaps I worry too much than necessary and it's okay to approach him.

I press my ears harder against the wall.

Silence.

Such disturbing silence.

"What are you doing?"

Holy fu — goddammit Dino.

I stumble upon my toes, attempting to hold my balance in the quietest way possible. It occurs to me I was nearly one with the wall while diving into our guest's darkest intentions, and Dino out of all, has captured me red-handedly.