FOOL Ch 12

“Would… you like to change into something more comfortable?”

“Do you have anything that might fit me here?”

“There should be something in Taewook hyung’s room. He’s as tall as you are, Doctor.”

“Can I bother you, then?”

Woonu shuffled out of the room, pressing his back against the wall as he sidled along, like a crab.

“I’ll bring it after I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face.”

“Alright.”

I glanced at the boxy shelves lining the space above and beside the floor desk, crammed with humanities books. This room belonged to the man’s son—the one he proudly mentioned was living in Canada. Despite the yellowed wallpaper and the worn linoleum floor, the empty room was impeccably clean, not a speck of dust in sight. Sometimes, longing takes on the form of diligent and heartfelt care. I knew that feeling.

I pulled a book from the shelf, flipped it open, and propped my elbow on the desk. With my chin resting in my hand, I hadn’t even gotten past a few pages before my eyelids began to droop.

“Doctor—oh, you should sleep under the blanket.”

I realized I had dozed off when I felt Woonu gently shaking my shoulder.

My eyes fluttered open, and the book slipped from my hand, landing with a soft thud. Woonu picked it up and slid it back into the bookshelf before sitting down again, keeping his distance from me. A dull stiffness throbbed in the right side of my neck, and as I tilted my head, a loud crack accompanied it.

“Should I give you a massage? N-no, forget I said that.”

I lifted my arm and turned my shoulders. I felt a little tense, probably because I had driven all the way from Seoul to Busan and dealt with that conniving man, so a massage sounded like just what I needed.

“You offer me a massage, then immediately take it back. What’s that about?”

“Wouldn’t you be disgusted if a homo… a manwhore like me touched you?”

Which mouth had lent those words, allowing them to burrow into that kind rascal’s mind? A surge of anger swelled within me, one I didn’t know where to direct. At the guy who had told him such things, or at Woonu himself, for embracing those words and using them as a mirror to define himself?

“Do you think massaging my shoulders will make you hard?”

The human sitting across from me bit his lip, his gaze cast downward, throat bobbing. He chose his words carefully, again and again, before finally allowing them to slip past those soft, beautiful lips of his.

“No…”

“I’ll trouble you for a massage, then.”

I turned and presented him with my back, tapping the back of my shoulder with my hand. Woonu shuffled forward on his knees, his stomach pressing against my back as he inched closer. His hands on my shoulders were so light that I had to swallow the sigh that threatened to slip from my lips. He was seriously bad, as if he’d never given or received a massage in his life. It felt more like rubbing than it did kneading.

“Press harder.”

“Your shoulders are too thick.”

“You’ve got big hands. Never mind, that’s enough.”

He stopped touching my shoulders. I glanced up at him as he shifted back, rising to his feet.

“Which side would you like to sleep on? If it makes you uncomfortable, I can go sleep in Taewook hyung’s room.”

I stretched an arm, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him down. Then, with a slight tilt of my chin, I gestured towards the door.

“He thinks there’s something between us. How can we sleep separately?”

“I’ll think of an excuse.”

How cautiously had he lived for every action of his to be guided by someone else’s opinion over his own? I grabbed Woonu’s shoulder, and when his eyes flicked down to my hand, I reached up with the other to grip his confused face, forcing him to face forward. Then, I kneaded his shoulders hard enough to make him groan. It was both amusing and pitiful, laughter and fury churning inside me, one overtaking the other in turns. I smushed his bony shoulders, feeling the stiff curves of his skeleton as I kneaded with my thumbs.

With every less groan that escaped his mouth, the tension in his muscles began to ease. I kneaded so hard that sweat began to bead on my forehead. It had been ages since I’d last given a massage like this. My poor uncle and aunt would never have another nephew as reprehensible as me. I made a mental note to offer them a massage the next time the holidays rolled around.

I wrapped up the massage with a few firm pounds along the plane of his back.

“This is how you give a massage. Got it?”

“Wow… that felt amazing. I feel like I’m about to melt.”

“You didn’t get hard, did you?”

It was a joke. One of the first things I learned after Woonu pulled me into the world, allowing me to learn new things, was that those who were considerate were good at cracking jokes. You had to be very careful not to hurt someone’s feelings while trying to make them laugh. I couldn’t do that, so it was safer for me to avoid jokes altogether.

“I don’t like doing it with men,” he murmured, the slurred words only half escaping his mouth. I couldn’t help but probe further.

“Speak clearly. Did you just say you don’t like having sex with men?”

“…I hate it.”

Woonu lowered his head, not bothering to look back as he spoke.

“If you don’t like it, why do you do it?”

“I like women. It hurts when I do it with guys, so… I hate it.”

“Is it those hyungs of yours? Did they force you?”

“…Only two of them.”

“Did that Taewook guy force you too?”

“Taewook hyung doesn’t do that sort of thing to me.”

“How old is that punk, anyway?”

“He’s twenty-eight.”

I couldn’t find it in me to speak kindly. Given his age, I’d have expected him to mature already. How could he stand by and watch as Woonu, whom he had lived with since childhood, suffered such things? It made me curious as to how he looked. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a model citizen myself, but even before meeting him, I could tell that his morals were skewed.

“From now on, if you don’t want to do something, you have to say no. It doesn’t matter who it is. Got it?”

“I did, and it ended in a fight.”

“Did you win?”

“No. I was beaten to a pulp. That’s why my eye was bruised.”

I was about to make a sarcastic remark about why he kept letting himself get beat when a loud growl echoed from Woonu’s stomach. His honesty extended to his stomach, it seemed. Given that the only thing we’d eaten was a snack at the rest stop earlier in the afternoon, it was no surprise he was starving. Woonu seemed embarrassed by the sound, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“I’m also feeling pretty hungry.”

“There’s a really good wheat noodle place nearby, but they close at eight.”

Woonu licked his lips, his eyes drifting upwards. He seemed disappointed that we couldn’t go. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but it was around this point that the expressions he showed me began to take on a more one-dimensional aspect. His facial muscles must’ve rippled in such a way to mask his true emotions. I had mistaken it for multifacetedness at first. Ignorance breeds fallacy, and when combined with personal bias, it festers into misunderstanding. Voice that misunderstanding, and it becomes self-righteousness. The best course of action was to keep your mouth shut if you didn’t want to look like a fool later on, scratching the back of your head and calling it a misunderstanding.

Those who are adept at acting and lying tend to grow familiar with repeated falsehoods, but Woonu was different. Despite the hellish life he had endured, he hadn’t descended into madness, he hadn’t become twisted, and he hadn’t allowed hatred to take root in his heart. He remained honest, noble, and kind.

Lotuses bloom in the mud. What is noble can never be sullied or diminished, no matter how much it is trampled. I didn’t want to make any excuses for my ignorance in failing to notice that preciousness sooner. Nothing makes a person quite as sleazy and unsightly as the layers of self-justification they cake themselves in.

“Should I check the kitchen and get us something to eat?”

“Let’s just go to the convenience store.”

The shoes we had taken off and placed before the man’s door had now been moved to the room by the far end of the corridor. We slipped our feet into the neatly arranged pair, and I noticed a sizable gap at the front of the slippers Woonu wore. It seemed their original owner had feet as large as mine. When I was younger, I had put on my father’s large slippers and tripped over, splitting my forehead open. I wanted to tell him to wear shoes that actually fit, but the sight of his sneakers sent a sigh tumbling out of my mouth, and it made me think that perhaps those large slippers were the better choice after all.

Standing outside the door, Woonu called out to the man. The sound of the TV blaring in the room carried out into the hallway. The man was in the midst of watching a comedy program. When Woonu called out to him again, louder this time, the door swung open.

“Ahjussi, we’re taking a quick trip to the convenience store. Do you still have enough cigarettes?”

“Grab me a pack while yer there. An’ don’t forget to get me some o’ that banana milk too.”

“Oh, but I don’t have mo—”

I pushed his back, urging him to get moving already. I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to feel the weight of that gloomy gaze lingering on my back.

The rascal’s slippers snagged on something in the yard, sending him stumbling forward. I caught him by the chest just in time, his damp bangs brushing against the lower half of my chin and neck. I caught a whiff of soap—probably the bright yellow bar left lounging by the tap without a proper holder, but it was fragrant all the same.

I glanced over to where the man’s shoes were placed and eyeballed the size of his slippers to Woonu’s feet. Releasing my hold on him, I walked over to the front of the maru and picked up the slippers. Then, I tossed the pair before his feet, and the little rascal backed away.

“Put these on.”

“Ahjussi’s feet are smaller than mine.”

“Just give them a try.”

His toes peeked out from the top, and the sides of the slippers looked strained and tight. But smaller was better; at least they wouldn’t slip off like bigger shoes. I grabbed Woonu’s hand and dragged him along, and, just as the homeowner had done, I kicked the stiff gate open. As Woonu was pulled along, he reached back to slam the door shut behind us.

I had set out with such zeal, but my footsteps soon faltered. The alleyways confused me, and if Woonu hadn’t taken the lead, I would have found myself walking in circles.

“Doctor…”

Again with those damned ellipses. Love for humanity and ellipses had no place in my novels. I’d already told him not to call me doctor, but this kid—always so painfully cautious—kept stammering, “Do-, doc-, doctor, oops.”

“Just call me hyung.”

“Okay!”

Even his answers brimmed with energy. A smile crept across my face. Embarrassed to let him see, I quickly turned my head away.

“Hyung.”

“What?”

“Your hand.”

We found ourselves holding hands on more occasions than I could count, even before any real emotions had the chance to take shape between us. At the time, I hadn’t even noticed until we had already walked who knows how far down the alley. Under the flickering light of a streetlamp, I let go of his hand, and in that instant, a faint darkness seemed to swallow us whole.

“Huh? The streetlight went out.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket. Woonu quietly stared at the bright light coming from the device. There’s no way he didn’t know about the phone’s flashlight, right? Just like how the poor can recognize the names of upscale residences, he must’ve seen a phone’s flashlight before, even if he’s never owned one himself.

I had never met anyone like Woonu before, and I mean that in every sense of the word. I don’t think anyone could have. He had so little that he didn’t even have citizenship. To make matters worse, he was orphaned at the age of nine and even lost a portion of his childhood memories. It wasn’t just a life of deprivation; it felt like a life stolen. How did I know? Because my family had been stolen from me too. When you lose something that you once had, injustice inevitably takes root in the foundation of your emotions.