IAOSL 37

Chapter 37– Like a Dream

Whether it was uncomfortable sharing a bed with someone, or uncomfortable knowing that someone was filming her while she slept, Gyeoul tossed and turned for over two hours.

She must have been exhausted from filming for the first time in a long while after the accident. I considered stopping the bedroom filming altogether so she could at least sleep comfortably, but I couldn’t bring myself to give up the opportunity. So I remained perfectly still in bed.

Was I belatedly suffering from the fever of a first love?

Only after three full hours had passed since we lay down did the room finally fall into silence, accompanied by Gyeoul’s faint breathing.

The moment I heard her steady, peaceful breaths, the tension that had been gripping my body finally began to ease.

Just as I was about to close my eyes, a small groan came from behind me.

My body reacted before I could even think.

I sat upright and looked at Gyeoul.

Her face was twisted as though she were trapped in a nightmare.

Cold sweat soaked her hair, and her hands trembled restlessly.

Her red, full lips murmured words I couldn’t understand, and tears slipped from her eyes without meaning.

“…Don’t… die… don’t die… please…”

As those difficult words escaped her lips, another tear rolled down her cheek.

Had Gyeoul never shown such a fragile side before?

Or had she simply never been able to?

Though we had been together, perhaps she had always been swallowing her sorrow alone in her room.

Even knowing she was having a nightmare, I couldn’t wake her.

Because, just as I once had, perhaps she was meeting someone she desperately missed, if only in a dream.

Like waves crashing ashore, regret flooded through my entire body.

The only thing I could do was pull her trembling, suffering form into my arms.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

Knowing the words would never truly reach her, I repeated them all night long.

The fact that I had to share a bed with someone felt strange, and I thought I had spent a long time tossing and turning because of it.

I couldn’t tell whether every position felt uncomfortable because the place didn’t feel like mine, or because I was conscious of him.

After struggling for so long, I finally fell asleep.

And as if proving my discomfort, the sleep I managed to find led me into memories from that day—a memory I hadn’t revisited in years.

A memory from more than twenty years ago, now faded with time.

The day my mother and father died.

It was a bitterly cold winter night.

Though the weather was freezing, there was no snow. The sky was overcast, and faint cries of wild animals drifted down from the mountain behind our house.

My sister and I stood in the yard, blowing warm breath onto our frozen hands as we waited for our parents.

That especially cold night eventually gave us late-night rain instead of the snow I loved so much.

The freezing air turned the rain into ice the moment it touched the ground, making the dark roads impossible to see.

Every time we blew into our hands, white clouds of breath appeared.

My sister and I laughed, saying it looked just like the cigarette smoke from the pockmarked old man next door.

Just another ordinary day.

The small rural village on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province where my sister and I had been born and raised became unusually dark at night.

My parents were teachers at a tiny country elementary school.

That day, they had called us to say they were heading home after a training session.

They had supposedly left two hours earlier, yet by nine o’clock there was still no sign of them.

Taking my mother’s place, my sister prepared dinner for me with her tiny hands.

As I picked out my favorite sausage side dishes and agonized over a math problem I couldn’t solve, my sister helped me with my homework, wearing the same deeply troubled expression my father usually did.

Even after putting our heads together, we couldn’t solve the problem.

Eventually, we threw the workbook aside and secretly watched TV together.

Then the silence of the house was shattered by the loud ringing of the telephone.

Startled, my sister hurriedly turned off the television and answered.

I instinctively held my breath beside her.

After speaking words I couldn’t understand for quite some time, she began crying uncontrollably.

Then she grabbed the piggy bank we had treasured beside the TV.

When she took my hand and woke the old man next door, offering him the piggy bank, I couldn’t even ask why she was giving away the money we’d saved together to buy carnations for Mother’s Day.

Watching her sob in the old man’s arms…

Watching him go pale as he grabbed the keys to his cultivator…

I sometimes wondered if even seven-year-old me had already understood what was about to happen.

The cultivator rattled loudly through the dark roads.

Wrapped tightly in the old man’s scarf that smelled strongly of tobacco, I looked up at the sky.

The rain had begun falling again.

Flashing police lights.

The cries and screams of people overcome with grief.

Following those sounds, I entered the hospital.

Passing through the sharp smell of disinfectant and the metallic scent of blood, I found them.

My mother and father.

Lying motionless beneath white sheets covering their faces.

It felt like such a hollow ending compared to all the happy moments we had shared.

Even knowing it was a dream, the forgotten memories gifted me fresh sorrow.

And once again, loud sirens rang in my ears.

In an instant, the scene changed.

Now it was showing the day my sister died.

‘What is it? Did you see something?’

‘Huh? Ah, no. It’s nothing. Let’s go to the car together.’

‘Why are you acting so weird today? Seriously?’

‘Stop talking nonsense and hurry!’

My sister looked terrified, as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have.

Clueless, foolish me simply pointed at a streetlight in the alley.

My mind was screaming at me to run away immediately.

But my mouth moved on its own, like a recording someone had already programmed.

‘Oh, you’re right. That streetlight is out. We should call the district office and—’

‘Yeoreum!’

Only after I found myself embracing the small, fragile body that had thrown itself around me did tears begin to fall.

With a deafening crash, her body slammed into mine.

The impact sent me rolling across the hood of a car before I was thrown onto the cold, unforgiving asphalt.

‘…Don’t… die… don’t die… please…’

My throat was so dry I could barely speak.

Tears streamed endlessly from my eyes.

Unable to endure the pain, my body twisted on its own.

Then a large pair of arms pulled me into an embrace.

A deep voice cut through the screaming sirens in my ears.

A low, steady voice that sounded like a heartbeat itself.

Again and again, it whispered:

“It’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”

Awkward hands patted my back and held me carefully.

The touch was clumsy, but warm.

The scent that faintly reached me wasn’t blood.

Nor was it the cold smell of winter.

It was warm and comforting.

Like blankets dried beneath sunlight.

Like a dense, thriving forest.

The hand brushing my soaked hair aside and patting my back never stopped throughout the night.

And the voice repeating that everything would be okay slowly pushed away the chaotic memories tormenting my mind.

To the point where I began to think that maybe everything truly would be alright if I had this broad embrace protecting me.

Slowly but surely, that embrace was keeping me safe.

The sunlight pouring through the window was dazzling even through my closed eyelids.

I couldn’t remember what kind of dream I had during the night, but my exhausted mind and body were crying out from fatigue.

The brightness made me frown.

Then suddenly, a shadow fell across my eyes.

The small shade blocked the sunlight that had been stinging my eyelids.

Slowly, my heavy eyes opened.

“…Joo Taeuk.”

Still half-asleep and groggy, I found him sitting there.

Hearing me murmur his name, he raised the corner of his lips playfully.

“It feels strange hearing you call me that.”

“…”

“Maybe I like it. Maybe it’s dangerous.”

His voice was thick with exhaustion.

His tired eyes met mine.

I saw his large hand shielding my eyes from the sunlight.

“I never noticed when we slept separately, but your sleeping habits are terrible.”

“…”

“You toss around so much I thought I might starve just from watching.”

“…”

“Aren’t you hungry? Want to have breakfast together?”

His eyes were filled with gentle concern.

The smile on his lips curved beautifully.

My chest churned as though I were floating on a tiny boat.

“…I’ll admit it.”

“…”

“The reason you kept getting on my mind. The reason I kept noticing you.”

“Han Gyeoul.”

His voice was low.

Very low.

It sounded exactly like the voice that had spent all night telling me everything would be okay.

At that voice, my heart pounded heavily once more.

The faint scent surrounding him.

The broad chest before my eyes.

I swallowed against my dry throat.

“…But.”

“…”

“Don’t shake me anymore.”

“…”

“I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

The words left my mouth before my thoughts could stop them.

No.

Even if I had thought about it first, it was probably something I had wanted to tell him someday.

Using my drowsiness as an excuse.

Using my half-asleep state as an excuse.

Even then, he seemed to understand the sincerity hidden inside those words.

Though he heard them, he said nothing.

Sleep began pulling me under once more.

I blinked slowly.

As he quietly met my gaze, he lowered the hand that had been blocking the sunlight and covered my eyes instead.

The eyelids that had barely managed to stay open relaxed again beneath his palm.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept.”

“…”

“I must really have gone completely insane.”

“…”

“When I hear something like that, I should probably be angry.”

“…”

“I should be complaining that after staying by your side all night, that’s all you have to say.”

“…”

“But why…”

“…”

“Why is happiness the only thing I feel right now?”

The darkness beneath his hand deepened.

His voice seemed farther away.

Even as I felt myself slipping back into sleep, my heart continued pounding, waiting for the rest of his answer.

Maybe because I was afraid of what he would say.

Maybe because I was happy.

Or maybe because of the comforting scent that had surrounded me all night.

In the silent bedroom came the soft sound of a quiet chuckle.

“Now, even hearing something like that from you…”

“…”

“My heart just feels full.”

“…”

“Maybe because I still can’t believe I’ve become someone you don’t want to lose either.”

“…”

“So I don’t even know how to feel disappointed anymore.”

His quiet voice gradually faded away.

My vision turned completely dark.

Wrapped in peaceful warmth, I drifted back into sleep.

And because of that, I never heard the confession he whispered softly.

“…Gyeoul.”

“…”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”