Chapter 115: By fountain (13)
Part 25
Why now?
Why, under the excuse of being drunk, give up on your purpose?
“I tried to drive a wedge between you all,” he said.
They responded with bitter expressions: I see.
“I knew everything from the start,” he said.
They replied with steady faces: That’s possible.
With a wretched feeling, he asked why they weren’t angry.
They answered with faintly sad looks: Yoonseo wouldn’t get mad if you told her. Why should we?
Only then did it hit him. The feeling he harbored was simple jealousy, nothing complex to explain.
The misery he felt now came from realizing it, unbidden.
Words didn’t come easily. So he just tilted his glass.
The first drink.
Another.
And another.
The unfamiliar sting of alcohol and the growing haze of intoxication clouded his mind.
He probably mumbled an apology.
He didn’t hear what the four said in response.
He could guess their words were likely comforting.
And that made Sihyun feel all the more desolate.
Part 26
“…That’s what felt the most wretched. Do you get what I mean?”
His voice, trembling as if on the verge of tears yet feigning calm, left me without the right to recklessly hold his hand. I didn’t have clear words to offer in response to his sad smile.
What purpose did he abandon? Why did he decide to leave? Was there even a purpose to begin with? I knew nothing. Reaching out to someone means taking responsibility, whether out of kindness or calculated intent.
Knowing nothing, I had no right to reach for him as he turned away from our connection. I had no right to tell him to look back when he’d chosen not to.
But still.
“…The first day we met, you asked me something,” I said.
“…What?”
His gaze, fixed on the floor as if avoiding me, slowly turned my way. All my efforts so far might’ve been meaningless. But as someone who’d at least tried to pull him from the shadows, wasn’t it okay to push a little?
“You asked if I was a streamer.”
“…I said my sibling’s a streamer, didn’t I?”
“That was a lie.”
Not a gentle plea or a forceful demand, but a childish insistence—maybe that was okay. I came here to laugh, drink, and banter with friends, not expecting this situation.
I wasn’t ready to accept this sudden surrender. I wasn’t saintly enough to let it all go as inevitable.
“I’m actually planning to keep streaming. I’ve got a decent figure and face, so even without special talents, it’ll work out, right? Streaming’s fun. Being surrounded by people who enjoy my chatter—it’s way better than I expected,” I said.
“Pfft, bragging about your popularity?” Sihyun replied.
“So keep watching me when you think of it.”
A fact he probably already knew. A confirmation hardly worth repeating. A meaning too feeble to change anything. Yet, saying this was a vague hope—if I couldn’t stop him from leaving, maybe I could leave a place for him to return to.
His widened eyes softened into a faint, cloudy smile. A smile that seemed to fade in the night breeze. No tears were visible, but why did it look like he was crying? With that thought, I smiled back, probably mirroring his expression.
“I’m planning to make singing my main content,” I said.
“Haha… As someone devoted to music, I can’t miss that,” he replied.
“Right?”
“You’re still terrible at it. Such a waste of a voice.”
A thin laugh answered as clouds covered the moonlight. I carefully took in Sihyun’s figure, staring at the sky. The city’s night sky, dim without moonlight, hid even the stars—what was he seeing?
“You don’t need to see your friends’ faces anymore?” I asked.
“They scattered thanks to you,” he said.
“They really loved your voice, Yoonseo.”
Was it an illusion, that glint in the faint moonlight?
“Probably everything else too. All of it.”
His bursting laughter rode the night breeze, fading. In the seemingly endless moment, my lips moved several times. I didn’t want to offer cheap comfort or pity. A lukewarm, hypocritical gesture would be another form of violence to him.
“…I think you don’t need a reason to like something or someone,” I said, eyes on Sihyun as he gazed at the sky, then slowly looking down.
We weren’t looking at the same thing now. But someday, if neither of us gave up, maybe. With that thought, I wove my words, one by one.
“I heard that from someone, and it felt right. Really, it’s true.”
I had his number. I could ask the doctor. If push came to shove, I could search for him on my stream. Yet, somehow, I felt I wouldn’t see him for a long time. A vague frustration—regret or pity—tightened my chest.
“Even if it’s not grand like love. Simple fondness, shallow curiosity—it’s enough just to like something.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
Liking, envying, wanting to destroy, and leaving because of it—a twisted person. The last kindness I could offer wasn’t “come back” or “I wish you’d return,” but simply, I’ll be here.
“So, sometime, let’s drink again. Your treat.”
“…In this mood, you’re saying I pay?”
“You’re loaded. Filthy rich, even.”
“…True, haha…”
For someone trying to escape normalcy, I wanted to be a reason to stay. But my capacity was too small to hold him fully.
“Let’s throw a big party with all our friends,” I said.
“My friends aren’t exactly famous,” he replied.
“Bonfire-nim would come if I asked.”
“…That’s tempting.”
So, not now.
When I’ve grown a bit more, and Sihyun’s ready to face himself fully—then we’ll try again.
The chair wobbled faintly. Looking up, I saw Sihyun already a few steps ahead.
“It’s self-practice for a while,” he said.
“Isn’t it harsh to practice when you’re not watching?”
“Who knows when I’ll check in? A text full of feedback might come out of nowhere.”
“Haha, got it. Want me to walk you home? That was kinda the plan, dragging you out.”
“I’m sober now.”
“You might not get to lean on a beauty like me again.”
“I was prettier before I changed.”
I waved slowly at his receding back. For all the twists and turns, it was a strangely anticlimactic farewell.
Just, I prayed this wasn’t the end. That this connection wouldn’t meet a meaningless close.
Part 27
Winter’s end gave way to spring’s budding flowers. The chilly reluctance faded under their glare. Spring’s warmth, day and night, ignored any lingering cold snaps, embracing only softness.
Winter’s close. Spring’s start. Time, lazily lingering in that in-between, began to drag its heavy steps forward.
Amid things that seemed unchanging, the world shifted, slipped away.
He, who changed so much in me, left as Choi Sihyun, even as everything transformed.