Chapter 41: The Revelation at Dawn

Yeon-chae stared intently at Yoonwoo’s address, which they had painstakingly typed into their phone. They wrestled with the decision late into the night, finding it difficult to justify an unannounced visit.

Despite several more attempts, Yoonwoo remained unreachable. Yeon-chae considered leaving a message, but the fear of a potential rejection, of Yoonwoo telling them not to come, paralyzed their finger over the send button.

Having spent a sleepless night, Yeon-chae’s cheeks were swollen, and their hair was a disheveled mess as they burst out the front door. There had been no contact with Yoonwoo whatsoever; something was clearly amiss. The thought of Yoonwoo suffering alone in an empty house made Yeon-chae’s heart ache. As they settled into the driver’s seat, a faint sheen of sweat dampened their hands gripping the steering wheel.

Yoonwoo’s house was perched at the very end of a steep hill, accessible only through a labyrinth of narrow alleys too tight for a car. In their haste, Yeon-chae swerved the wheel, narrowly avoiding scraping several parked vehicles along the way.

Only upon arriving at the house did Yeon-chae notice the faint blush of dawn breaking in the distant sky. Standing before the front door, they belatedly realized the hour and felt a pang of mortification. It was far too early to visit someone unannounced. Yeon-chae reluctantly lowered the hand they had raised to knock, knowing they would have to wait for several hours.

Fearing Yoonwoo might emerge while they were away, Yeon-chae couldn’t even consider looking for a nearby cafe or convenience store. They knew their mind wouldn’t find peace, no matter where they waited. Yeon-chae resolved to stay put in front of Yoonwoo’s house until a more reasonable hour. With a stroke of luck, Yoonwoo might even step outside for a moment. A brief conversation was all they needed. Just a few questions—what was wrong, how serious it was, if they had seen a doctor—would not disturb Yoonwoo for long.

Yeon-chae leaned their back against the outer wall of the fence, folding one leg and resting their forehead upon it. Suddenly, old memories resurfaced.

During the days when Yoonwoo and Yeon-chae lived in apartments facing each other, Yoonwoo would always rush out and help Yeon-chae up whenever they sat huddled on the emergency stairs like this. The memory of those small, warm hands brought a fresh wave of sadness.

The anxious, uneasy hours crawled by. ‘Where is Yoonwoo hurting? Is it serious? Are they still suffering?’ These thoughts spiraled, each one feeding the next, amplifying Yeon-chae’s worry. They knew they had a distinct talent for ‘digging themselves into a hole.’ If left to their own devices for just a few more hours, Yoonwoo would undoubtedly become a terminally ill patient in their mind.

‘What time could it be? Surely, it’s acceptable to ring the bell now?’ Yoonwoo’s parents were in Tongyeong, and Seowoo had already moved out. Only Yoonwoo and their twin siblings would be residing in the house. Yeon-chae had heard that Jinwoo and Kangwoo left for school early in the morning for self-study. Therefore, Yoonwoo must be alone beyond this front door. ‘Haven’t they woken up yet?’ Yeon-chae abruptly stood, fixing their gaze on the doorbell beside the entrance. And so, they continued to stare for another long moment.

At that moment, the front door creaked open.

Yoonwoo emerged, just as they always had in Yeon-chae’s distant memories. It was precisely as it had been when Yeon-chae used to sit alone on the apartment’s emergency stairs, waiting endlessly for them.

Yoonwoo gazed up at Yeon-chae, their expression a mixture of surprise and bewilderment, and let out a soft, aspirated, “Huh?” In that instant, Yeon-chae suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Sunbae.”

Yoonwoo’s round eyes, meeting Yeon-chae’s gaze, were noticeably moist.

“Why aren’t you coming to school?”

It seemed as though they had just finished vomiting.

“The test results were bad, weren’t they? You’ve been vomiting and feeling ill ever since.”

Their pale cheeks were blotchy and covered in red, freckle-like marks from burst capillaries.

“Are you in a lot of pain? Is it a serious illness?”

Yeon-chae’s voice, thick with emotion, dropped to a low murmur. Yoonwoo, however, averted their gaze, intent only on pushing Yeon-chae away.

“It’s nothing like that. You don’t need to worry.”

Yeon-chae didn’t care how much they were pushed away. At this point, they desired nothing else.

“Just don’t be sick.”

As long as Yoonwoo wasn’t suffering.

“Yeon-chae.”

‘See? I told you it was serious.’

Pressing their palm firmly over their mouth to stifle any sound, Yeon-chae poured out a torrent of resentment, though they weren’t sure at whom it was directed. Eun Yoonwoo would never miss a whole week of school just for a simple cold. The Yoonwoo they encountered, after arriving with such intense apprehension, looked genuinely and severely ill. Yeon-chae’s thoughts spiraled into despair.

‘It was clearly an incurable disease. Stage two? Stage three?…Terminal?’

“Please…”

Tears, no longer containable, cascaded down. Yeon-chae collapsed to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably, as if they would vomit. They clamped a hand over their mouth, desperate to stifle the cries, but nothing could halt the torrent. It felt as though they would suffocate.

“I’m not sick.”

Yoonwoo, head bowed low, mumbled, their voice barely a whisper. It was so faint and creeping, almost indistinguishable unless Yeon-chae strained to listen. Yeon-chae, hiccuping, managed a response.

“But you are sick, aren’t you?”

“I told you I’m not.”

“You’re not sick? Then what is it? Can’t you tell me?”

‘Can’t you let me a little closer?’

Yoonwoo’s large, dark eyes trembled with palpable difficulty. A fresh wave of deep-seated resentment surged within Yeon-chae—resentment for Yoonwoo having completely forgotten them, for repeatedly pushing them away even after their reunion, and for still refusing to open up. Yet, Yeon-chae knew they could never truly hate this face. They longed to caress Yoonwoo’s pale cheek. Involuntarily, their hand reached out, but their fingertips faltered, unable to touch Yoonwoo’s skin, losing their way powerlessly in the empty air.

Just then, Yoonwoo, who had been staring intently down at Yeon-chae, parted their lips.

“I’m pregnant…”

…

…

…Hiccup…

“Yeon-chae?”

‘See? I told you it was serious.’

“Yeon-chae, don’t cry.”

Eun Yoonwoo would never miss a full week of school just for a cold.

“Yeon-chae. Please stop crying. This is right in front of my house; what if someone sees us?”

Yoonwoo’s voice reached Yeon-chae faintly, as if calling from a great distance.

“Sunbae, I…”

The tissue Yoonwoo frantically pulled out to wipe away Yeon-chae’s tears clung in ragged pieces to their cheeks. Yeon-chae’s previously swollen cheeks were instantly covered, appearing tattered with the damp paper. With a helpless sigh, Yoonwoo meticulously peeled each wet tissue fragment from Yeon-chae’s face. All the while, Yeon-chae bit their lower lip, striving to suppress their sobs, and quietly submitted to Yoonwoo’s gentle touch.

The tips of Yoonwoo’s fingers, lightly touching and then withdrawing, felt warm.

“Hey. Don’t cry, Yeon-chae. Okay?”

Yoonwoo whispered into Yeon-chae’s ear, soothing them as one would a child. When Yeon-chae leaned their cheek against Yoonwoo’s rounded shoulder, Yoonwoo hesitated for a moment, then cautiously wrapped their arms around Yeon-chae’s waist. Only once Yoonwoo’s arms were around their back and their chests pressed close did Yeon-chae realize the truth: Yoonwoo’s body was faintly trembling. The moment that realization struck, a dull ache pierced deep into Yeon-chae’s heart.

In response, Yeon-chae extended their arms towards Yoonwoo. The hand that had moments ago merely hovered in the air now finally found its way to Yoonwoo. Yoonwoo’s bangs, covering their forehead, became gently disheveled beneath Yeon-chae’s touch.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“…Do well at what, you idiot…”

“Just everything.”

“Just stop crying. I’m truly embarrassed.”

“Okay… I won’t cry anymore.”

“Really? You’re truly not going to cry?”

“Yes. I won’t cry, so…”

Yeon-chae paused, taking a moment to catch their breath. Only then did a sudden thirst prickle their parched throat.

“…Don’t worry, Sunbae. About anything. Don’t worry about a single thing.”

Yoonwoo remained silent for a moment. The hand that had been gently patting Yeon-chae’s back gradually slowed, then abruptly ceased its movement.

“Yeon-chae, I…”

Yeon-chae gently raised their body to look into Yoonwoo’s face. Yoonwoo’s dark eyes, as they stammered out words in a cracked voice, were blurred with unshed tears.

“The truth is, I’m really scared.”

Yoonwoo choked back a sob. Tears began to fall in heavy drops onto their cheeks, which were already dotted with burst capillaries like tiny freckles.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeon-chae found they had no more tears left to shed. Instead of sniffling, they retrieved a handkerchief from their coat pocket and gently wiped Yoonwoo’s cheeks. With the thin fabric between them, Yoonwoo’s soft cheek met Yeon-chae’s fingertips. The brushing sensation was incredibly tender.

“It was all my fault.”

Sixteen years ago.

Yeon-chae received a marriage proposal from the older brother who lived next door, two years their senior. It was the very first proposal in their five-year life. Though no ring with a hard candy was offered, it didn’t matter; he was the cutest and kindest older brother in the entire world.

Fourteen years ago.

Seven-year-old Yeon-chae presented a whipped cream cake in return, and Yoonwoo devoured the entire large cake alone. The engagement was sealed.

Recalling that engagement, Yeon-chae reached out and pulled Yoonwoo into an embrace. Their slender, small body came easily, fitting perfectly into Yeon-chae’s arms, where they continued to sniffle. Warmth filled Yeon-chae’s chest as their bodies pressed together. Yeon-chae gently stroked Yoonwoo’s thin back.

“I’ll do well, truly…”

Hugging Yoonwoo’s faintly trembling shoulders, Yeon-chae remained still for a long time. Yoonwoo’s sobs gradually subsided.

It was a late spring morning. The slivers of sunlight catching Yoonwoo’s pale cheeks shone with a dazzling golden light. The cherry tree branches in front of the rooftop apartment swayed with the breeze. In April, the reddish-pink cherry blossoms fluttered down, settling like snowflakes on their shoulders.