Jihoon woke up to a broken life, but his body was whole. He'd expected some kind of gruesome surgical scene when he lifted his sheet to look, but the bandage was a simple square of gauze over his abdomen. At first, a part of him was convinced it was just a dream, though he knew better.
Christmas came and went while he was in the hospital. Minjae and Their mother had visited with presents and silly Santa hats. But it just made him more aware that grandma lay in a coma down the hall. This was the first Christmas he'd spent without her in thirteen years.
Three days after being discharged, he had the first episode. A headache that started behind the temples and grew to a migraine within seconds until the pain became a nauseating wave. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was sick. He didn't tell anyone. But when he passed out in the PC room, he woke up in the hospital. They called it a seizure.
He'd been scanned and tested and had gallons of blood drawn. Everything showed that he'd completely healed, no blood clots, no tumors. A perfectly healthy boy who kept getting migraines so bad that he'd end up in the emergency room.
He spent New Year's in the hospital. And he wasn't liking this trend of celebrating his holidays in a patient gown. So with Lunar New Year fast approaching, he resolved to stave off the headaches.
It didn't help that bills piled up from the hospital and late rent, and Shane never came back. He waited to hear from him, convinced Shane wouldn't leave without a word. Life couldn't be that cruel, to have his father leave him, then his grandma so sick she wouldn't wake up, and now Shane had left. However, as the days, then weeks passed, he realized he'd been wrong to have such faith. Life wasn't fair. It was a mocking master that yanked at the frail strings of his life until they threatened to snap.
• • •
"You skipped Sunday dinner," Minjae said, plopping down beside Jihoon.
He didn't look up from his computer screen. The click-clack of gaming filled the air of the PC room.
"mom is starting to get worried. She might call your dad again if you don't—"
"Fine," Jihoon said. "I'll come next week." He still didn't glance up from the screen.
"Grandma will be proud of you when she wakes up."
Jihoon didn't reply but his throat tightened as he clicked through the practice test. It was like a full-time job catching up on years of missed schoolwork. But he'd learned that the tactical mind he used for his gaming was actually pretty good at studying.
"Jihoon-ah, don't you think you should get some decent sleep? And some food?" Minjae leaned closer and sniffed, then scrunched up his nose. "And a shower?"
"Don't bother, Minjae-ah," Seojun said from the other side of Jihoon, where his screen announced his losing score. "I already suggested a trip to the jjimjilbang. It was a fail."
"Like your father would even let you go to a public bathhouse," Jihoon muttered.
"Jihoon-ah!" Minjae chastised, and he knew he must have crossed a line. Minjae never took Seojun's side.
"The second year is almost over. Once the senior year starts next month, I won't have time to catch up," Jihoon reminded them.
"You need to take care of yourself, too, or you'll burn out." Minjae studied Jihoon. he'd changed his hair again this week. It was a willowy silver now.
"You slept at the hospital again last night, didn't you?" Minjae picked at Jihoon's wrinkled blazer. "Lily misses you."
"I'm fine is fine," Jihoon insisted, his eyes never leaving his screen.
"Is it even your place anymore?" Somin asked. "Your dad is paying the hospital bills. I'm sure he'd help with rent if she knew the landlord changed the lease from long-term to monthly. You know he's trying to kick us out while Halmeoni is in the hospital."
"I don't need that man's charity." Jihoon closed his eyes to ward off a growing headache. It had been hard enough accepting his Father's help to pay the hospital bills. But Minjae had pointed out it was his duty as a father to pay for it.
Minjae turned him by the shoulders so he could look at his brother's sallow complexion. "Jihoon-ah, I'm worried about you."
"You don't need to be. I have everything under control." He fisted shaking hands, stuffing them into his pockets to hide from Minjae's eagle eyes.
"Maybe you should call him."
"I told you I'm not calling my father."
"Not him," Minjae said. "Shane Kensington."
Just the sound of Shane's name made Jihoon's heartache.
"Why would you tell me to do that? You never really trusted him."
"Shane keeps secrets. If he knows who hurt you—"
"I told you he wasn't there when it happened. he found us after." Jihoon hated lying to Minjae, but it was better this way. Safer to keep him in the dark.
Minjae shook his head, his eyes conflicted. "That's not the point. I just think it would be better if you got some kind of closure. You're so sad all the time, Jihoon-ah. I don't like it."
"I'm not sad. I'm just busy." He brushed off his brother's statement.
"Don't let your pride get in the way this time."
"This time?" Jihoon scowled, pretending to read his screen but not absorbing any of the words.
"You think that if you admit you miss people, that means you're weak," Minjae said. "But maybe it will help you let go."
"I don't need your amateur therapy," Jihoon said, clicking a random answer on the practice quiz and swearing when it came up wrong.
"I just care about you, Jihoon," Minjae said.
That was the problem. Jihoon didn't want anyone to care about him. It only hurt more when they left.