Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 20

B side ◀◀

When I stepped into the hospital room, my brother was lying there—his face as pale as the sterile walls around him. The yellow fluid in the IV slowly traveled down the tube into his colorless arm.

Our mom was by his side, silently crying. Her hand gently stroked his sleeping face with heartbreaking tenderness. It was a scene I had already imagined.

“…Seokyung.”

She must’ve heard me come in. Her head turned toward me.

My brother took after her. The delicate jawline, the soft eyes—not what you’d usually expect on a guy—and even the overly emotional, fragile personality, it was all her.

“You could’ve come after school… I’m here anyway.”

She tried to sound casual, but I knew my brother would throw a fit when he woke up. So I ignored her and asked something else instead.

“How is he?”

“…Acute alcoholic shock. That’s what the doctor said.”

Honestly, it wasn’t all that surprising. My brother and I were opposites. He was gentle to a fault, always soft-spoken, always kind. When we lived together, he was the perfect son—Mom’s favorite without a doubt.

Even in college, he wasn’t the type to get wasted and party like most kids. He preferred sitting in quiet cafés talking with like-minded people.

But since last winter, he’d been drinking like he was trying to die. Not a sip here and there to take the edge off—he was downing bottles like he wanted to black out. It wasn’t sadness; it was rage. Like he just wanted to get drunk because screw it.

And this was a guy who’d turn bright red after a few sips. So no, I didn’t think this would end well. And still, I couldn’t stop him.

Because I was scared. Scared that if he didn’t even have that… he’d just give up. Like Mom did one winter. Like he’d always warned me he might.

“…This is all my fault.”

Mom’s voice cracked again at the end, followed by more sobbing. Her shoulders curled in like she was carrying the weight of the world—and begging someone, anyone, to comfort her.

I watched her and felt… nothing. That’s what scared me most. I should’ve felt something—anything. But I didn’t. Not for my brother lying unconscious, not for my crying mother. Was I broken?

I used to care. I used to feel things. Maybe my brother was right. Maybe I really was emptied out. Mom wiped her tears and tried to smile at me.

“How have you been, Seokyung? …You didn’t answer my calls. I sent a lot of emails…”

“I don’t have a phone anymore. Too many annoying messages.”

That face again—just like my brother’s—like she’d done something wrong. I changed the subject before she could go on.

“How long’s he staying here? This room’s too expensive. Move him to a shared room.”

“Seokyung, let me take care of that. You don’t need to worry about money.”

Strange. That’s not the mom I remember from the last few years. She used to be completely lost, like she couldn’t handle anything. Like a leaf tossed around by every gust of wind.

I always wanted to tell her to get a grip. Crying won’t solve anything.

“How’s school? I’ve been meaning to visit but…”

I didn’t need to hear the rest. She was gauging my reaction. Like she was scared to overstep.

“Do you need anything? I’m still putting allowance into your account. If you ever need something, just tell me, okay? I know your brother’s a mess, but you’re still a minor, Seokyung. You—”

“I read your latest column.”

Her tear-streaked face froze. That’s not why I brought it up.

“Congrats on your new professor title, by the way.”

“Seokyung…”

I knew my brother went to see her drunk because of that article. Namhee Choi, newly appointed professor of English Literature at Jinhwa Women’s University. That title probably flipped something inside him.

“How could she do this? How could she live like nothing happened?” That’s all he kept saying last winter.

“How could she leave us behind and be okay with it?”

I’m sure today’s outburst was just more of the same. He’s just like Mom. Their personalities are painfully similar. And yet, he was the one who took her betrayal the hardest.

Funny thing is, I think if he had been in her shoes, he’d have done the exact same thing. They’re both weak. They can’t live without someone to lean on.

“What about him?” I asked.

“…You really think he’d show up here?”

Mom’s face was a mess of guilt, shame, and yet… something pitiful underneath it all. I never understood that look.

If you’re ashamed, why do it in the first place? And if you do it, don’t you dare ask for pity. But I didn’t say it out loud.

Just a cliché affair. Or maybe not even that. Technically, it was after the divorce, so not “official” cheating. Whatever.

My brother cried, screamed, and destroyed himself over Mom’s betrayal. He thinks that’s what hollowed me out too.

He’s wrong. I was already empty before all that.

Spring, summer, fall, winter—Mom blamed every season for her depression. But deep down, we both knew it was about Dad’s absence and downfall.

She used the seasons as excuses to spiral, and eventually, she started trying… things. And when I screamed for help from a brother who locked himself in his room, who never came out—that’s when I started fading.

I’ve been carrying both their sadness like sandbags tied to my ankles, walking through two years that felt like time had frozen. All while they looked at me with those eyes, begging me to understand, to pity them, to carry their burdens.

“I know you’re angry with me, Seokyung. I know you feel hurt and betrayed.”

Wrong. I wasn’t angry anymore. I wasn’t hurt or resentful. I just… couldn’t stand it anymore. That pathetic self-pity. That quiet manipulation. That need to be pitied.

Like how Mom cried over Dad’s downfall until she found someone new to cling to. Like how my brother hated her but still cried out for her in this sorry state.

That kind of fake sorrow… I hated it.

“You should go before he wakes up, Mom.” That’d be best.

She couldn’t argue. So she didn’t. I sat beside my brother and looked at him for a long time.

He taught me so much. Basketball, video games, how to deal with friends. How to gently turn down girls who gave you chocolates. What gifts to bring to birthday parties. We were good brothers.

Dad used to say we were boring, good kids. That was only half true. I wasn’t good like him.

Back in Boston, I thought things were still normal. I used to buy flowers for Mom when she was homesick. Stay up late comforting my brother when he was upset about missing a game.

Back then, I still had something inside me—something warm. But now? There’s nothing left. No matter how much I scrape, there’s not even a crumb. And I don’t think it’s ever coming back. I think I’ll be like this forever.

“People don’t live on intentions. They live on warmth.”

I remembered a girl’s voice, her pink cheeks smudged with whipped cream. She’d touched my face instead of wiping her own. A strange, odd little girl.

She cared more about others than herself. She didn’t even know how useless sympathy and pity could be. But she was wrong. You can only share warmth if you have some to give.

And me? I don’t have any.

“Excuse me, student?”

I blinked and looked up. A woman in neat clothes stood by the door.

“Ms. Choi sent me.”

She was the caregiver Mom had hired, apparently. I didn’t argue. I had school anyway. As I stood up, my eyes caught the clock. Way past five. I immediately thought of someone—and my heart started pounding.

I had told the driver to take me to Yongho Mountain Park. But I didn’t expect anything. It was already close to 8.

Disappointment, expectations—they weren’t emotions I really felt anymore. They didn’t matter. They didn’t affect me.

So even if Ji Yeonseo wasn’t there… it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t dare to be disappointed.

But… what if she had been waiting? What if she was hoping I’d come? And I didn’t. What if she was disappointed?

That thought made my chest burn.

“…Driver, please hurry.”

This was all I could do now. Show up late. Try to justify myself. Try to explain. And even thinking about it made me feel worse.

The taxi stopped. I saw the stairs leading into the park. I looked around.

Nothing.

No white, pink, sparkly little pebble of a girl.

As I walked toward the entrance, I tried to organize my thoughts, like I always did. Maybe it was better this way. Easier than seeing her still waiting. Easier than her crying. I could apologize properly. Do it gently—like my brother taught me to do with kind girls.

Just thinking of her waiting all this time made my throat tighten. So maybe it’s better this way. Because if she cried and said, “Why are you so late?”—

Thud.

A soft hit on my back, followed by a bundle of paper dropping to the ground like a deflated shuttlecock.

“Hey, Cha Seokyung!”

If you’re crying… then what am I supposed to do? I hate crying faces. I don’t want to see one.

I turned around slowly. Ji Yeonseo stood there, arms crossed, glaring daggers at me.

“You said you lived in America, right? Guess your time zone’s still stuck there, huh?”

If you were crying, or waiting… what could I have done? What would I say? She must’ve noticed something weird in my silence, because her tone softened.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Her white and pink eyes were filled with concern. Kind, thoughtful eyes. Always warm, even when she was alone and outcast.

And in that moment, I realized something.

Why her ignoring me had bothered me so much.

Why I had wanted to stop her every time she passed me without looking.

Why I sat next to her and asked for help that day.

It was because I hated it.

I hated the thought of those warm eyes losing their light when they looked at me.

I hated that Ji Yeonseo might stop seeing me altogether.

“Cha Seokyung?”

My brother once told me what to say when I met a girl like her.

So what I wanted to say was—

“Hey—it’s fine. I mean, we’re already late anyway, so—”

“Let’s go on a date.”

“…What?”

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

My brother really did teach me a lot.