My Bloody Valentine - 27

The hand that was waving below paused for a moment.

Han’s trembling fingertips extended towards Taesin’s face. From the slightly wet forehead where the hair flowed down, to the eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, and chin, he carefully observed each feature.

A neat forehead, eyebrows that arched upwards like seagulls, cool, elongated eyes… Even when he was young, he often heard compliments from the people in the neighborhood about how handsome he was. They even suggested he could become a movie actor when he grew up.

As Taesin’s gaze descended onto Han’s face, their eyes met. Han’s pupils were thoroughly soaked and shimmered.

“That wound… Taesin… Is it you?”

When Han’s fingertips finally touched his cheek, Taesin’s eyebrow twitched, crumpling slightly. With a shaky voice, Han spoke.

“I… I’m Han.”

Han gently enclosed Taesin’s cheek with his entire palm. Taesin’s head tilted slightly towards the side where Han’s hand was.

“What?”

“I’m Han. I’m… Han.”

Yes, a lot of time has passed. It’s natural that your memories would become faint.

Han wanted to believe that. Just as he thought there was no way he would say his name and he wouldn’t recognize it, maybe he felt the same.

As time passed, Taesin’s wrinkled forehead smoothed out again. Holding Han’s wrist, which was wrapped around his face, he slowly pulled it away and muttered to himself.

“I didn’t take the medicine.”

“What?”

“Oh, pretending to be crazy and trying to escape to a mental hospital?”

Han’s hand, which had distanced itself from Taesin’s cheek, froze in mid-air.

Taesin was looking at him as if seeing something strange. There was no sign of recognition anywhere on his face. Bewildered, Han asked with trembling lips.

“Tae… Taesin. Do you not recognize me…?”

“I know. You’re Han.”

When Han tried to search desperately for the spark of hope by rummaging through the haystack, Taesin crushed it mercilessly.

“How can you not recognize? I will never forget the bastards I owe.”

Ah… You don’t remember me. The memory that I cherished and held onto was only mine.

A belated realization struck Han’s chest.

Once, they were each other’s everything, like soulmates who shared their souls. But you had already abandoned me once, and now you’ve erased me from your memory. Rejected twice by one person.

Tears crawled out of Han’s already damp eyes. It was tears mourning the time he had waited, even when forgotten.

Taesin was observing Han with a poignant expression, as if someone close to him had died. There didn’t seem to be pain in his crying.

In the midst of this, Taesin’s phone, lying beside the bed, rang. It vibrated, and the finger that had been stuck inside it was pulled out. Feeling the slippery sensation, Han shivered slightly.

“Uh, answer it.”

Wiping the ointment off his hands with a tissue nearby, Taesin answered the phone, tapping his forehead a couple of times as if troubled. Soon after understanding, he said he would come and hang up.

Leaving Han, who was crying as if he had lost the world, for a moment, Taesin vacated the spot. A few minutes later, he reappeared, now dressed in a neat suit. It seemed he was preparing to go out.

Dressed in a deep navy Sleepy’s suit, Taesin issued a warning before leaving the room.

“It’s better not to think about running away. You probably understand the reason without me explicitly stating it.”

Until Taesin turned around and left the room, Han gazed at his retreating figure as if clinging to the hope that he would say it was all a joke, that he couldn’t possibly forget him.

But such a thing, he desperately wished for, did not happen.

Left alone, Han, consumed by the pain of his battered and defeated body, stared blankly at the ceiling, forgetting the torment that had been inflicted on her. Taesin’s face, seemingly unaware of his existence, floated above the white ceiling. Suddenly, from the depths of his seemingly empty chest, something warm surged up, as if a fiery emotion had welled up.

Bastard.

Han, battered in body and mind, needed someone to blame, no matter what. Resentment immediately extended towards Taesin, and soon anger, unstoppable like sparks on a dry branch, flared up.

Han spent the entire day repeating the cycle of crying, groaning, and falling asleep. When he woke up, he wasn’t alone in the room.

Voices of people outside the room reached his ears. Among them were Taesin’s voice and the voice of Jun-ho, whom he had encountered a few times.

Han groaned as he struggled to sit up. The lower back pain was intense, and moving was not easy. The pain that rose up his spine made his involuntarily bite down on his lips.

Looking down at his body, he saw clothes he didn’t recognize. A white cotton short-sleeved T-shirt and soft pajama pants.

The thought that he might have dressed was too horrifying to consider. He automatically clenched his teeth.

Summoning up courage, he took a deep breath before placing his feet on the floor. Carefully putting his weight on both feet and struggling to stand, he felt a sharp pain, as if the ground was giving way beneath him. He had to endure the pain and stifle the urge to cry out. Tears welled up, but he fought to swallow the groans that wanted to escape.

Han staggered out of the room, feeling something slippery between his buttocks with each step.

Taesin, standing with his back to him, observed Han when he entered. When their eyes met, a lump of hot emotion surged up. However, there was something he needed to demand from him.

“The phone… Let me make just one call… Please.”

Jun-ho was the first to notice Han speaking informally, and his eyebrows twitched for a moment. The othis guy standing beside him half-opened his mouth.

“You have to call your grandmother. Let me make the call.”

“Oh, no, is this guy insane…? Where is he speaking casually…?”

One of the subordinates said, looking bewildered. However, Taesin, seemingly amused, chuckled to himself and muttered as if talking to himself.

“Is he really crazy…?”

Taesin, with an interested gaze, approached Han. Han, to avoid sitting down weakly, braced his legs with all his might.

Taesin’s head, gripping Han’s chin as if holding a small glass, tilted.

“Am I your friend?”

Han glared at Taesin, lifting his chin away from his hand.

“Friend? No. You’re younger than me.”

“What do you know about me?”

Taesin asked, his gaze meeting Han’s defiant one.