herself off-balance. Jihoon caught her before she fell. She put her hands on his shoulders for stability. “And every day I decide to keep doing this, I know it’s what I need to do. Not for you. Not for my mother. I made this decision. So it’s mine. It’s all I have that’s just mine.”
A pang shot through Jihoon, a tightening of his lungs.
He cupped her cheek lightly. Why couldn’t he admit before that he’d missed this? Hearing her voice, running his fingers along her hair, seeing her eyes so close he traced out the pattern in her irises. Blooms, like flowers. He’d missed it all desperately.
“Miyoung-ah.” He said her name quietly, his hand moving down her neck. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t be sorry. We’re both sorry all the time. A sorry pair.” She chuckled. “I wish things could go back,” Miyoung said with a wistful sigh. “Can’t we just be Miyoung and Jihoon again? Can’t we be okay for five minutes?”
“I think I can do that.”
“Good.” She smiled sweetly. “Because I’m going to throw up.”
She ran to the edge of the playground and vomited in the underbrush.
Jihoon gathered her hair back and held it as she was sick.
* * *
• • •
Jihoon carried Miyoung on his back up the sloping streets. Her arms and legs hung from him like vines, swinging back and forth as she drifted in and out of drunken consciousness.
“I’m sorry I sucked out your halmeoni’s gi,” Miyoung mumbled.
He tensed, unsure if he wanted to talk about that right now. Then he realized most of his anger had evaporated.
“I know how stubborn she can be. If she asked you to take her energy for me, then she probably made it impossible to say no.”
“I’m a horrible gumiho,” Miyoung muttered. “I couldn’t even say no to a halmeoni. Some immortal being I was.”
Jihoon chuckled.
Then he shifted to hitch her higher, thanking the stars when he saw his apartment across the street.
“I’m sorry I left,” she said. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“No one likes a martyr.”
He started up the stairs, his legs wobbling as he climbed.
“You know what I missed the most?” Miyoung whispered by his ear.
“What?” He tried to ignore the tingle along his skin as her breath fluttered over it.
“Being friends.”
“Huh?”
“You were my best friend.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I miss my best friend.”
“I miss you, too,” he said, but she’d already fallen asleep.
61
MIYOUNG WONDERED IF someone’s brain had ever broken out of their skull. Because even as the fog of sleep still sat over her, she was sure this was going to happen to her. The pounding behind her eyes made it almost impossible to open them. And when she tried, she 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.
Miyoung succeeded in opening only her right eye to glare at him. The sun blazed through the windows, exacerbating her headache.
“Haven’t you ever heard of curtains?” Her 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?” Miyoung mumbled, closing her 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 Miyoung.
“Come on, I made bugeoguk,” Jihoon said, too cheerful for her liking.
Miyoung finally smelled the savory scent of the soup and sat up with her eyes still closed.
She followed him out to the living room. The night before, she hadn’t noticed the space, but it looked exactly the same as she 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 the door frame.
Miyoung sat at the low table, weathered and well-used. It held two bowls of pollack soup. She let the steam hit her face.
“Best cure for a hangover,” Jihoon announced. Dipping a spoon into Miyoung’s soup, he lifted it to her lips. She slurped up the salty broth obediently. It was a good balm for her sore throat.
“I never knew you could cook.” She took the spoon from him and scooped up more soup eagerly.