Hyun Woo

It was already mid‑year, exams approaching fast.

“Looking angry today. Had a fight with him again, is it?” my sister pestered as soon as I entered the school gate.

“I’m not angry. And why does everything have to do with him?”

“Isn’t it? You two usually come together. He’s not with you today, so…” she kept going.

“That’s because if I meet him on the way from his part‑time job, we walk together.” Why was I even explaining this under the blazing sun?

“Is it? I thought you waited outside the supermarket for his shift to finish, then came together,” she smirked.

“It’s not like that. You’re mistaken. Anyway, I have to go.”

I entered the classroom. He was already seated, glanced at me once. I ignored him.

This morning, he had yelled at me because I opened the door and the cat ran out. She came back soon after, but he was furious. Yes, it was a mistake, but not deliberate. Who does he think he is? It’s always me who apologizes first, even when it’s his fault. Not this time. Let him come first.

“Here, have this,” he said, placing my favourite cold drink on my desk. Bribing me now? I wouldn’t give in.

“It tastes best when it’s cold. You’re sweating,” he added, pulling out a handkerchief and leaning over to wipe my forehead.

I stopped him. “It’s okay, I’ll do it.” I sipped the drink — it was really good.

“Shouldn’t you be saying something else too?” I asked.

“What should I be saying?” he replied, feigning innocence. He knew exactly what I meant.

The teacher entered just then, cutting off the moment. Otherwise, I would have given him a piece of my mind.

He looked at me for a minute. As soon as our eyes clashed, he silently held his left ear — the one with two moles — and mouthed, “Sorry.” He knew how to beat me.

“It’s your birthday next week. What do you want? Just say it and I’ll get it,” I boasted.

“Can you get me the moon, a bright star, and all the beautiful things from a world so far? Mr. Lee Hyunwoo, can you?” He laughed, eyes glinting.

“I’ll try,” I replied with a smile.

I ran inside and bought two.

“Still, you should tell me what you want for your birthday, Minho,” I nudged.

“I can’t think of something now,” he replied, “but one day I’ll ask you for one wish. You’ll have to grant it without questioning, alright?”

I could never say no to him.

“No questions asked,” I promised. “I will.”

Under the sun, he looked blissful with his popsicle. Then his expression shifted.

“My father will be returning next week. We’re supposed to visit grandmother’s place for two weeks — some festivities. My sister and I will travel with him. Hope you won’t go mad missing me,” I teased.

His face clouded. The joy drained. “Oh… you didn’t tell me till now. Why did the plan happen suddenly?” Was that anger beneath his question?

“It got confirmed yesterday,” I said, head down.

“Oh, okay. I won’t miss you at all,” he smiled faintly, walking ahead.

“But I’ll miss you,” I whispered to myself.

He must have heard. He turned suddenly. “Did you say something?”

“No,” I smiled, running to catch up with him.

“So you’ll have to pack your things, right? When are you leaving?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving forever,” I retorted. “Why are you walking so fast?”

“It’s sunny. We should get home early,” he said, almost dismissively. “I know you’re not going forever — I’m not that lucky. But you’ll need your stuff. Let’s go pack.” He walked ahead.

At home, we both crashed onto the sofa.

“Gosh, this summer is cruel. It’ll be worse in the countryside. Make sure you drink plenty of water, stay indoors in the afternoon, eat less spice, wear loose clothes…” His list was endless.

“Yes, Mom,” I laughed.

“So when are you leaving?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“That’s very little time. You’ll have to pack today. Anyway, school holidays start tomorrow. Have fun.” He got up.

His indifference stung. I had never been away from this house for even a day in a year and a half. Shouldn’t he miss me, even a little?

“Why are you in such a hurry to pack my bags? Is your girlfriend coming to stay here? You want to kick me out as soon as you can?” I raised my voice, following him to his bedroom. He had already pulled out my suitcase.

“Tell me,” I pressed.

“It may be a boyfriend as well. How do you know it’s a girlfriend?” he said casually, reaching for a perfume bottle.

Something inside me snapped. I charged at him, pinning him beneath me on the bed, wrists trapped above his head.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he struggled.

“What did you say? Boyfriend? Say that again.”

“I was just kidding, you jerk. I told you I’d break your head if you did something like this again.” He tried to free his wrists. I pressed harder.

“Say it again. Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Are you one of those people?” I couldn’t even say the word. His eyes widened.

“Those people? What do you mean? Speak clearly. Do you mean gay? Even if I am, what’s it to you?” His voice was sharp.

I faltered.

“Don’t tell me, Mr. Lee Hyunwoo, you’re a homophobe.” His eyes burned with disdain. My grip loosened. He kicked me off and I collapsed beside him, panting.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He ignored me, drinking water, then sat on the sofa with his head in his hands.

I sat beside him. “How many times will you be sorry, Hyunwoo? Why do you do things that make you sorry?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes. I sighed. “You can say I’m a homophobe.”

“What?” His voice rose.

“I don’t like… I hate…” I couldn’t finish.

“Homosexuals. That’s the word, Hyunwoo. You can’t even say it,” he mocked.

“I got angry and terrified when you said that. Minho, there’s something you don’t know. I never talk about this part of my life.” My voice shook. “Please don’t joke about it. Okay?”

“What’s the matter, Hyunwoo?” His tone softened.

“There was someone… my uncle, my father’s younger brother. Because of his choice, we suffered. He was bullied in college. My father thought marriage would fix it, so he arranged an alliance with his business partner’s sister. My uncle refused. That refusal ruined my father’s partnership, caused huge losses. My grandmother faced shame in her hometown. And after all that, my uncle left us without remorse. Isn’t that wrong? It’s not about money or reputation, Minho. How could he choose himself over his brother and mother…Hence I would never accept that someone else related to me also becomes like him — especially you. I won’t like it. I won’t allow it, understood?”

My voice cracked. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. “Won’t you say anything?”

But he was silent.