If One More Person Asks Me Who I Am, I Will Cry
Handling heartbreak or any sort of sadness had never been Gyeoul's forte. She would throw herself on her bed, sobbing until she fell asleep. She'd then wake up and lock herself in her room, with her paint and paper and canvas. By the time she would come out, organs cursing at her from dehydration and hunger, there would be sketches and paintings littering the floor of her room.
"The Christmas tree is out and about," Kyung would dryly comment in reference to her hair, when he passed her by on the staircase, earning a weak shove in return.
But this time, Gyeoul didn't have the choice to race to her bed and drown her home with her tears. One moment, Lee Dohwa had learned her name and offered to walk her to wherever, and in the next, he looked at her as if she were a stranger.
She was a stranger but he had forgotten the whole conversation they had had. He had forgotten her name and her face and how she had made a fool of herself in front of him.
"But...we were just talking less than a minute ago." She said, "You were waiting for me to tie my shoelaces."
Lee Dohwa shook his head, "I'd remember if that happened. I'm self-aware, you see. Not...that you'd know what it means," he sighed, noticeably upset about something.
As he moved to leave, Gyeoul obstructed his path. "I promise I'm not lying," she said, "You said something about being aware and about a writer, and then said you'd take me to Kyung."
He seemed to seriously consider her words for a moment, "You...I haven't seen you around school but you really do look familiar. Wait, did you say Kyung? You mean Baek Kyung?" He had said this to her just a while ago, voice so full of disbelief that she had almost felt offended.
Gyeoul recalled how there had been no sign of her falling sick in the library, how the books she had moved returned to where they had been, the prints of her shoes vanishing, and now...this. It was as if this world didn't want to know that she existed.
"You know what, never mind," she said softly as she tried to find a way to leave without lying because the last thing they needed was for her to throw up on him, "I'll try to look for my brother on my own."
"Brother!?"
Assuming that this would probably be the last time she saw him—and even if she did, it wasn't as if he'd remember—Gyeoul reached to hold his free hand in both of hers. No calluses, she noticed. Her boss must've removed or overlooked that detail because a musician like him was sure to develop roughness in his hands. "Thank you, Lee Dohwa," she smiled sincerely, "I'm grateful that I got to see you and hear your voice and just...I'm so glad that my wish to meet you in real life instead of in my sketchbook came true. You're my best friend and though I'm a little upset that you'll forget me, I'll remember you for as long as I live."
Lee Dohwa's eyes widened just like before. He stood very, very still, making her wonder if he had stopped breathing.
As Gyeoul tried to pull away, he dropped the violin case and tightened his fingers around hers—harmless but enough to keep her attention. "Wait," he tugged at her, "You said in your—in your sketchbook. That means that you...you drew me?"
She nodded hesitantly.
He inhaled, lips quivering, and then he frowned childishly as if on the verge of throwing a tantrum, "Oh, for the love of—I can't believe it—Lady, I have a bone to pick with you!"
In another time, Gyeoul would've given anything to sit next to Lee Dohwa and talk to him. However, the moment his tone implied that she had wronged him, her stomach sank painfully due to the panic and worry of the unknown. She couldn't tolerate someone so dear to her being upset or angry with her. She screwed her eyes shut and prayed.
Please, please, please, take me away—
When she opened her eyes, she was in the library.
☄
For a long time, Gyeoul sat still as a statue, replaying how she had met him. She sank into a chair, in the back of the library, groaning at the way she had stuttered and stammered in front of Lee Dohwa.
You—Gyeoul—sorry. No, wait. I meant...I meant you're Gyeoul—no. You're Lee Dohwa and I'm Baek Gyeoul and I'm also sorry.
Just shoot me, she had thought.
But it was so...so thrilling and wild and surreal. Her Dohwa. Hers. Real. She had felt him, skin on skin when she had touched his face. He was real.
Gyeoul replayed the memory, etching it deep into her consciousness. It was okay if Lee Dohwa forgot her. He had no idea how much he meant to her. But Gyeoul...this was one of the things she had wanted the most and there was no way she'd let a word of it fade away.
☄
The students in the library forgot her the moment they walked away from her. If she tried to sit across someone, they'd look up, again and again, every ten minutes, and get surprised to see her in front of them. A girl with twintails had approached her thrice, asking if she went to this school and that outsiders weren't allowed. A boy had asked her twice if she had an extra pen, wondering out loud about why she was out of uniform. Somebody else had asked her if she was the Library Assistant.
Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?
Finally, when the same boy with close-cropped hair had tried to flirt with her multiple times, using the same pick-up line ('Good thing I brought my library card because I'm checking you out'), Gyeoul took refuge behind the bookshelves. She could've left but the second she stepped outside the library doors, she found herself back at one of the tables.
She wondered if she stayed here, maybe Kyung would come to find her again.
No, she thought dejectedly, running her fingers over the spines of books on the shelves, he doesn't seem too fond of me—wait, he was reading that comic here. He was reading Secret.
Gyeoul rummaged through the columns, trying to recall where she had seen him stand. She found the damned comic, the word Secret shining on its cover, wedged between two encyclopedias.
Oh Namju's caricature was the first to stare back at her, on the introduction page. He looked very different from who he actually was. Instead of the haughty expression he wore here, the Namju from her world—Jeong Namju—was aloof and indifferent towards anyone who didn't interest him. And the only reason Gyeoul had been of interest to him was that one, they had grown up together; two, he was her brother's best friend; and three, she had spent nights listening to him talk about what and who he wanted to be. She had kept his secrets and he had liked her for that.
Nevertheless, his feelings had faded as quickly as they had appeared and Gyeoul, ashamed of how fast she had let herself love him, locked herself away in her room.
The next drawing was of the female lead, Yeo Juda.
Then, Gyeoul's Lee Dohwa. Kyung. Someone called Shin Saemi. Iljin, Samjin, Yijin, Yangil, Yangsam, Yangyi, Aeil...
Soochul was there. The obnoxious prankster had continued to be in the same class as hers even when she and Kyung had been separated. He was the only one who noticed her absence in class, sliding notes under her door so that he didn't stay long under the same roof as Kyung. Her boss ended up taking him too.
Eun Danoh and Haru. She remembered them vaguely from Trumpet Creeper. Gyeoul hadn't wanted to see her work and her brother's face be exploited in a badly written comic, so she had vehemently refused to read it.
Violence and anger had never come naturally to her. They were emotions she felt that she wasn't entitled to. Unless it was mild annoyance towards her brother, Gyeoul liked to live without any disputes and arguments in her life.
However, the comic in her hands filled her with rage. This was unfair. She had stayed up days and nights on end, toiling away and perfecting the way she drew limbs and noses and eyebrows only to have a wrinkly gargoyle steal most of it from her.
I ought to set this stupid thing on fire, she scowled and slid to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, not before I read this nonsense though.
☄
It was dark when she was finally allowed to step outside the library.
Allowed by who?
A lot had happened and Gyeoul had no idea how much time had passed since she had left home. Hours? Days? All she knew was that she was hungry and tired and upset from what she had read. And she was all alone.
Being alone at home was unnerving but being by yourself in a large campus at night was mortifying.
So she did the only thing she could think of and armed herself with a heavy stick she had picked up from the side of the road, and made her way to where her home had once been.
Maybe she'd find Kyung there. Maybe if she took the same path, she'd be back home. Maybe she'll wake up from whatever dream this was. Maybe she'll never go home—
Helpless tears welled up in her eyes again. Gyeoul hated crying but her first instinct in a hopeless, scary, or stressful situation was to either puke or cry. And her stomach, though aching and hurting miserably, was empty.
Sniffling, she picked up her pace and rushed through the abandoned streets, clutching the stick tightly.
The sight that greeted her wasn't what she had expected. Kyung, dressed in a formal black jacket with white lapels and facing in her direction, was in the middle of a heated argument with a man. She could see nothing but his suited back. He grabbed Kyung's collar, sneering and cursing at him, and Kyung pushed him off.
Enraged, the man punched him across the face as hard as he could.
Kyung stumbled back, catching himself just as before he fell but Gyeoul was already rushing towards the two. Pressing a hand over the bleeding corner of his mouth, Kyung looked up and did a double-take.
"What—"
"Get away from him!" Gyeoul shrieked, raising the stick over her shoulder. Before the man could turn around, she had struck his temple and made him fly to the side. She continued to attack him blindly, yelling and swearing, "Get away from my brother. Don't you dare touch him!"
The man writhed on the ground, screaming and demanding who she was.
"Stop it!" Kyung was on his feet, pulling her back by the arms, "That's enough—for fuck's sake, stop it!"
He wrenched the large branch out of her hands, threw it away, and began to drag her away before the man stood up. They ran, Kyung having grasped her hand tightly in his, and stopped once they were out of the neighbourhood.
Gyeoul doubled over, hands on her knees, and gasped for air. She had never been much of a runner. Immediately standing up straight, she walked through the dizziness and hugged Kyung again. "Tell me you didn't lose your memory," she was still short of breath as she spoke, "because if you ask me who I am again, I might never stop crying."
"Are you fucking insane?" Kyung demanded, ignoring what she had said as he pushed her off, "Why did you interfere?"
"I couldn't let him hit you like that!" She retorted, "Who was that anyway? Let me take a look—" She tried to tilt his face to get a good look at his injury. He shoved her hand away.
"The man you beat the shit out of is my father."
"No," Gyeoul shook her head, "There's no way that's your dad. Our parents separated when we were kids and our dad sees us only on our birthday and you find ways to avoid that as well." She had read about this man, this Director Baek. He was twisted and horrible and she hated the way he treated Kyung.
Eyes narrowed with irritation, he snapped, "No, that's your father you're talking about. I've only ever known this man. Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" He added.
He remembered her. "You can't order me around. I'm older than you."
Kyung rattled with anger, "Enough with the sibling bullshit!"
God, she felt like a frayed carpet—thin and trampled and beaten to every last inch to remove the dust. It was a stupid allegory but Gyeoul was couldn't bring herself to think of anything else. "I know how stubborn you can be," she sighed, thoroughly exhausted, "but I'm thrice that. So let's just agree that no matter how many times you refuse, I'll still hang around you because you're my brother and I could really use a familiar face. That and you're the only one who remembers me."
When she unclipped and clipped her hair back, he still hadn't answered. The fury in his eyes was gone, replaced by melancholy and loneliness.
"What is it?" Gyeoul asked, stepping closer. The wound on his face had stopped bleeding.
Kyung looked away and said slowly, "Mom used to brush her hair back like that."
She had read that too. A shell of a woman eerily resembling their mother, lying on her deathbed as little Kyung sobbed while sitting beside her. Gyeoul had wept at the cruelty of her boss. The woman had known Seo Chaewon was real and yet, she had had the audacity to draw her dying.
Reaching for his hand, Gyeoul said, "It was tough, wasn't it? All those years?" He made no effort to pull away this time. The wound on his face hurt her too. Maybe it was the twin thing their mother often talked about. All their lives, Gyeoul had always cried whenever Kyung had gotten hurt. "I wish I had been a character alongside you. Maybe then it would've been a bit less difficult. I would've kept you company and I would've known how you felt. I'm so sorry," her voice trembled, "that I let that woman take you from me. If I had grown a backbone and fought for you and the others, then she wouldn't have made you go through all this."
Kyung closed his eyes, letting his head drop. He retracted his hand and turned, "It's a shit life, being a comic character."
"I can only imagine."
"How many times are you going to cry?" He changed the subject, eyeing her out of exasperation, "I've met you three times in the past week and you've cried every single time."
"Week?" Gyeoul asked, forgetting her witch boss and Kyung's new father and their mother, "I saw you a couple of hours ago! I barely left the library and—"
Her stomach grumbled. Loudly.
She stared vacantly at Kyung, unable to form a coherent thought or word. He looked away, awkwardly scratching his brow. Shuffling forward, Gyeoul looped her arms around his. "You need to buy me food," she said, refusing to acknowledge the rumbling noise they had heard.
"No way," he was already trying to slither out of her hold.
"You said it yourself. I haven't eaten in a week!"
Kyung began to walk away, unwillingly dragging her with him, "I never said that. I said I saw you a week ago."
"Please," Gyeoul whined, digging her chin into his shoulder out of habit for when she wanted him to listen to her, "Kyung, pleeeease. The last thing I ate was pepero and I threw up that as well. You saw me. And I barely have any money on me. Please."
Wanting her to stop talking, he shook her off, "Stop. Stop. You keep your distance and don't touch me."
"I just said you can't order me around," she bumped into his side, "I feel like eating pajeon...or japchae? Kimbap sounds nice too. Fish buns. Odeng! I like odeng. I like tteokbeokki too."
"Enough," he walked faster out of frustration, "If you say another word, I'm throwing you under a bus."
Gyeoul stuck out her tongue at him and sprinted to catch up. She watched him from the corner of her eyes, the tiredness and the desolation and the heartache plain on his face for her to read. "We should get something for your injury," she said, pointing at his mouth.
"Forget about it," he mumbled, "It's not a big deal. It'll be gone by tomorrow or once the Scene changes."
"Hey," she pinched the elbow of his jacket, stopping in the middle of the footpath, "It's okay, right? Me following you around?"
Kyung scoffed, "You decide to ask me that now?"
"But it's okay with you, right? If I keep you company?" She gave him a smile, "So you're not alone anymore? You can be honest. It's not like I can tell anyone you know. Even if I do, they'll forget me and everything I said. So...your secret's safe with me."
He considered her words and the sincerity behind them. "Yeah," he finally and quietly admitted, "It's okay. Don't make it a habit, though," he tried to save face but failed because Gyeoul just knew what he was feeling, "I don't want you breathing down my neck at all times."
Her smile widened.
"But grow up and don't hold my hand anymore," he scowled, "What are you, five?"
The smile disappeared. Shoving him aside, she muttered, "Jerk."
☄
this is one of my favourite chapters! but y'all know that it's one step forward and three steps backwards with kyung so😔
there's an 80% chance i have covid. ive been stuck in bed the whole day but ive been feeling sick for the past three-four days. there might be delays in updates but i never really update on time so i dont have the right to say that lmao.
also, feel free to dm me?? i really won't mind??? why do y'all think it bothers me??😭😭😭