Shane wondered if someone's brain had ever broken out of their skull. Because even as the fog of sleep still sat over him, he was sure this was going to happen. The pounding behind his eyes made it almost impossible to open them. And when Shane tried, he immediately shut them again with a moan.
"I see the alcoholic is awake," Jihoon said from the bedroom doorway. "Oof, and you look awful." He seemed particularly pleased about this fact.
Shane succeeded in opening only his right eye to glare at him. The sun blazed through the windows, exacerbating his headache.
"Haven't you ever heard of curtains?" Shane's voice sounded like gravel scraping over a pumice stone.
"Yes, but I also don't drink two bottles of soju by myself."
"Was it only two bottles?" Shane mumbled, closing his eyes again and pulling up the covers. "I could've sworn it was a hundred."
"Nope, you're a lightweight. Deal with it." Jihoon yanked the blankets away ruthlessly, earning a whimper from Shane.
"Come on, I made bugeoguk," Jihoon said, too cheerful for Shane's liking. Shane finally smelled the savoury scent of the soup and sat up with his eyes still closed.
Shane followed him out to the living room. The night before, he hadn't noticed the space, but it looked the same as he remembered. The low, lumpy couch, begging to be sat upon. The kitchen nook was small, perhaps with more dirty dishes than before. Bookshelves still littered with picture frames. And bujeoks fluttering like bright yellow flags along with the door frame.
Shane sat at the low table, weathered and well-used. It held two bowls of pollack soup. He let the steam hit his face.
"The best cure for a hangover," Jihoon announced. Dipping a spoon into Shane's soup, he lifted it to her lips. he slurped up the salty broth obediently. It was a good balm for his sore throat.
"I never knew you could cook." Shane took the spoon from him and scooped up more soup eagerly.
"I'm more than a pretty face." Jihoon winked.
"Oh good, I see your old sense of humour is intact." Shane scowled, but inside his heart swelled.
Jihoon chuckled and started to eat. On the couch was a crumpled pile of pillows and blankets. He must have slept out here and given Shane his room. His hair was a mess and his cheek was creased from the pillow. There was a hole in his shirt and his pants were frayed at the hem. He still had a sleepy look in his eyes, but he'd woken up early enough to prepare a whole meal. At this moment, he was the most handsome boy Shane ever seen.
"Thank you." Shane couldn't stop staring at him.
"Sure thing," he mumbled, obviously embarrassed at her sudden attention.
"Is it weird that I missed this place? Even though I've only been here once?" The words were out before Shane thought them through. And with them, she remembered what had happened the last time they were here. On the very same couch, Jihoon had slept on. A flush rose Shane's cheeks.
Jihoon coughed nervously, making it clear his brain had gone to the same memory.
"It's weirdly normal to have you here." He spooned up another bite.
"I don't know how to feel about that."
"I can leave . . ."
"No, stay. I think it's time we can let the past be the past. I can't stay mad at you forever. I actually realized this because of Eamon. Who'd have thought?"
"What did he say?" Shane didn't like the idea of feeling gratitude toward Eamon, but he had to admit the Prince of Heaven was fairly persuasive.
"He made me realize I couldn't blame you for loving your sister. I love my grandmother. I'd do anything for her. And you'd do the same for Loralie. I can't be mad at you for listening to her and leaving. I think it was just an excuse, really. When you're so used to people leaving, you start to think something might be wrong with you. It was easier to be mad at you than to feel like I wasn't good enough yet again."
Shane didn't know what to say, but he was saved from having to reply by the ring of Jihoon's phone. Jihoon's eyes moved from the screen to Shane, and he knew who was calling.
"Answer it," he told him.
Jihoon swiped the screen. "Hello?"
Jihoon listened a moment, his lips pursed in concentration. He answered only in a series of yeses and nos. Which frustrated Shane with its vagueness.
Finally, Jihoon placed his hand over the mouthpiece. "He wants to come over."
Shane didn't want to see the person. His mind and heart begged to say no, the only occasion they had agreed in this whole messed up situation."Yes."
Jihoon hesitated, his brows lifting for final confirmation.
Shane nodded, sure of himself. "Tell him to come over. I want to see him, too."
***
Shane sat at a table in Park's old restaurant, facing his father after so many days. It seemed like ages when he had seen the person.
Surprisingly, Shane didn't feel like crying or vomiting, two things he'd been afraid of doing. In fact, he felt completely calm. Jihoon had stayed back in his apartment.
Detective Roger, or Death, sat in the same cold stance, his eyes a greyish red, with jet black hair. Shane would have looked just like him if he was older. His eyes never left his son's face.
Death finally spoke. "Hello, son."
Shane was in the same cold stance as his father. "Hello Father," he greeted, his voice emotionless.
"I didn't expect you'd see me."
"I wasn't expecting that either." Shane had no desire to make things easier on him.
"I know something's going on that involves Jihoon." his father sighed out.
Shane didn't reply. He didn't like how his father had disguised himself as a detective and how familiar he seemed with Jihoon and he hated that part of it was jealousy.
"Jessica was right. You have fallen in love with that mortal." his father concluded.
"Is it wrong that I have?"
Death tsked. "I sent you down here to take his soul. Not to fall in love with him."
Shane's eyes flared. They were the same colour as his father now.
"I had already asked you whether I had to do this or not. You didn't listen. It's not my fault I love Jihoon."
"I should have asked Loralie and Jessica to finish him off." Death muttered, but Shane had heard him.
"You should go." Shane didn't want to listen to the bullshit his father was going to say.
"Oshane—"
"Just. Leave." Shane bit out each word.
And he waited until the restaurant door closed with a chime before he dropped his head in his hands and let the tears come.