[fic] Minho/Key - SHINee - Forbidden Fire - Part 2/2
Title: Forbidden Fire - Part 2/2
Author: fonulyn
Rating: PG13
Pairing: girl!Minho/Key (Minjung/Gwiboon), onesided Onew/Minjung, Gwiboon/OC
Warnings: fluffy angst, what was it called? flangst? ;)
Wordcount: 7045 (this chapter, 14 149 overall)
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Minjung is in love with her brother’s wife. (Sequel to Secret Dreams but can stand alone.)
Comments: So here, second part as promised :) I am overjoyed that I’m not the only one enjoying this verse! Thank you so much to everyone who commented and showed their support~♥
Part I
Things only get better. At least if one asks Minjung. Gwiboon is still confined to bed rest, even though she can stand up and walk a few steps at a time, but the nursery is all the way to the other end of the corridor. Changho makes it very clear he thinks Gwiboon has to return to the marital bed, so that her current room can be turned into a new nursery. “It’s about time,” he says, “that you’ll return to your rightful place. It’s been months.”
“In case you missed something, dear husband,” Gwiboon says, “there were certain special circumstances.” At first Minjung flinches at the tone of her voice, hearing her talk like that to Changho of all people. Yet Changho seems to be used to it as he simply sets his mouth to a firm line. He never gets the chance to respond, though.
“I have heard you, and I respect your opinion.” Gwiboon says it with such an air of finality, everyone knows that there’s something else to follow. “But I will not move back to your bed. I will move into the guestroom across from the nursery. That is not up for discussion.”
There she is, pale and fragile from all those months spent in bed, sitting carefully on the edge of a plush armchair and wrapped in a lacy shawl. Yet everyone simply stares at her and no one has even half the mind to argue. They know her well enough to see the way she’s squared her shoulders, and she will not back down then. She never has.
Briefly Changho looks almost comically surprised as even if he and Gwiboon have had their arguments during the course of the marriage, she has never directly opposed him. In the end, she has always bent to his will and done what he’s insisted on. Swiftly he schools his expression into an unimpressed one though. “I see. Expect me to never set foot in that room.”
He leaves, and along with him leaves the awkward tension that seemed to make the air too thick to breathe. Quickly Minjung turns to Gwiboon, unable to keep the words at bay anymore. “What did you even think? He is going to be so mad!”
“I don’t care.” Gwiboon shrugs, even if her expression speaks of another language.
“Gwiboon,” Minjung sighs, deflating. “Are you sure? I know your marriage isn’t… quite what it used to be but…”
“Quite what it used to be!?” Gwiboon raises her voice this time, her eyes flashing as she looks up. “What do you even know about my marriage, Minjung?” She doesn’t even slow down although Minjung takes half a step back. “If I recall properly, you saw fit to leave when the wedding ceremony was barely over. You ignored me for months after, and even if you talked to me you never listened.”
Minjung knows that’s true. Yet how could she have listened to Gwiboon talk about her marriage when every single word would have been like a new knife slammed into her flesh. She sits down slowly, all fight gone from her, remaining silent.
It seems to do the same to Gwiboon. “I’m sorry,” she sighs. “But Minjung, if you had listened to me straight from the beginning you would know how things have been. This has been no fairytale marriage. Changho… he is a gentleman, he is. Yet I am not a proper wife for him. I can’t be what he needs. He is finally realizing that.”
“It’s taken him quite long,” Minjung mutters, for the lack of anything better to say. There’s too much to grasp.
Gwiboon smiles, softly. “It’s hard to give up on your hopes.”
That is something they both are more than aware of, and something neither of them has been able to yet do. Maybe never will. Finally, Minjung lets out the breath she’s been holding and stands up, ruffling the hem of her skirt nervously. “I’m going to clear my possessions from the room so you can have it. I’ll just move here instead. Unless you want me to go home?”
At that, Gwiboon looks at her oddly. “Home? This is your home.” Then the sparkle is back in her eyes. “It will not be my room, Minjung. It will be our room.”
Every day they have the same argument. Gwiboon insists that she’s perfectly capable of getting out of bed already, while Minjung tells her that already the ten steps from the bed to the dresser are more straining than she should take right now. It’s a wonder, Minjung thinks, how she wins the arguments every single time. She doesn’t remember a time from their childhood when Gwiboon backed down so easily, but she’s not going to question it.
Instead, she sets out to bring the little girls to Gwiboon instead. Miyun spends hours playing on the floor next to the bed, lounging at the foot of the bed listening to the adults talk, or just spontaneously shuffling up to hug her mother. She’s been told that Gwiboon isn’t feeling well, and she knows that the perfect cure for not feeling well is hugs, lots of hugs. The baby seems to be set on sleeping as much as she possibly can, only waking up for feeding every now and then.
“May I hold her?” Miyun asks, reaching chubby little fingers towards Minhee. Carefully, very carefully, she touches the baby’s cheek and then pats her tummy, smiling like it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced. Her eyes are drooping though, her head nodding slightly as she’s fighting to stay awake and spend a little more time with the adults before it’s obligatory bedtime.
Gwiboon notices that very well, but she doesn’t have the heart to say no. “Of course you may. Sit on aunt Minjung’s lap okay? She will help you.” Obediently, Miyun climbs into Minjung’s lap, allows herself to be settled properly against her, and then reaches out her arms again for the baby. Carefully, Gwiboon sets Minhee into Miyun’s lap, knowing that Minjung will circle her arms around the both of them safely to keep them close.
As soon as Miyun gets to hold her little sister her smile widens even more, the smile lightening up her whole face. She coos at the baby, babbles at her in what she’s convinced is their own secret language, and for a moment seems more awake before she begins to nod off again.
“It’s bedtime now,” Minjung whispers straight into Miyun’s ear, making the girl giggle as it tickles. Obediently Miyun allows Gwiboon to take the baby away, and then turns around to drape her arms around Minjung’s neck so she can cling on to her like a tiny monkey. She does send a longing glance towards the baby though, and Minjung smiles. “I’ll take you into bed and then I’ll come back for Minhee. Don’t worry.”
“Mommy?” Miyun asks suddenly, raising her head to look straight at Gwiboon with her sleepy, barely open eyes.
Gwiboon’s voice is filled with nothing but tenderness as she takes in the adorableness in front of her. “What is it, sweetie?”
“May I call aunt Minjung ‘mom’ too?”
It’s like the time is frozen for a second, and Minjung is certain she absolutely stops breathing for several heartbeats. Gwiboon looks as surprised as she feels, her eyes wide and mouth hesitantly open, until she melts into a brilliant smile. “Of course you may.”
“Okay,” Miyun says happily and buries her face into her second mom’s neck again, almost asleep at the very instant. The adults still exchange a look, knowing they’ll talk about this later, but right now Minjung focuses on getting both of the children back into the nursery and fast asleep. It takes longer than she’d wish this time, even if normally she enjoys the bedtime routines with both of the girls.
When she’s back Gwiboon is sitting in the plush armchair, a pitcher of tea and two cups on the table next to her. As soon as she spots Minjung she wordlessly pours them both a cup.
Minjung sighs. “Gwiboon… you’re not supposed to strain yourself. The kitchen is all the way downstairs.” She’s exasperated and she knows it shows, but Gwiboon only waves it aside.
“I only made it to the stairs, before I ran into Hyein. She made us tea and brought it up.” That now explains, since even if Gwiboon had tried to get all the way into the kitchen and back she never would’ve managed this fast, nor looked so calm and collected right after. Minjung can’t stop a wave of relief at the maid being up exceptionally late.
So she sits down and accepts the drink, carefully blowing on it as it’s a little bit too hot. The golden brown liquid sloshes slightly, almost on her hands, and she’s nearly done drinking it as Gwiboon reaches to fill herself another cup. “Minjung,” she begins, only looking at her hands still. Her fingers are shaking. “I know this isn’t what you asked for. It’s not what you wanted. It’s not what you deserve.” Her voice chokes a little on the last word.
“I don’t-”
“Minjung, please.” Gwiboon looks up, her eyes shining although she’s stubbornly not shedding a single tear. “Please don’t waste your life. This is never going to be easy. And I want you to be happy.”
The porcelain clatters when Minjung drops the almost empty cup on the table, quick on her feet and even more quickly kneeling right in front of Gwiboon. She leans in, rests her head on Gwiboon’s lap and closes her eyes, as somehow not looking at her makes it easier to say what she has to. “I’m not wasting anything,” she whispers. “Don’t make me leave, since I swear to you, I will not go.”
Gwiboon’s fingers thread gently through the thick strands of Minjung’s hair, and the touch is nothing but soothing, gentle in its steadiness. She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to. Minjung turns her head and presses her face into Gwiboon’s stomach, against the soft layers of cotton. “I am happy.”
Patiently Gwiboon coaxes Minjung to look up, and that is all the confirmation she needs.
Gwiboon’s fingers splay over Minjung’s cheeks as she pulls her in, the grip a hint too tight, but she feels like everything would otherwise slip away from her and she isn’t ready for it, she can’t have it. Minjung still touches her like she’s a fragile doll, but now forgets about it for a second as she yanks Gwiboon down, on the floor, limbs tangled
That night, there’s desperation to their kisses that has never existed before. Not quite like this.
It’s unbelievable, Gwiboon thinks, how someone as fragile and small as Minhee can have so much strength in her lungs. The baby has been screeching for hours on end, sometimes the frantic crying quieting down to silent sobs, sometimes turning back into ear-shattering wailing. She’s tried everything she can think of to make Minhee calm down but nothing seems to help except for walking around the nursery while swaying her slightly.
So that’s exactly what she’s been doing for half of the night. Minjung was right there with her until Miyun was breathing evenly, already in the land of dreams despite the noise her baby sister was making. That’s when Gwiboon sent Minjung to bed, too, told her to get some rest. She’s been feeling stronger day by day, she knows she can handle taking care of her little ones. Even if she’s not in full health quite yet, she’s well on her way there.
All in all, Gwiboon doesn’t really mind this, either. She feels like she owes it to her children to try be with them as much as possible, now that she’s not bedridden anymore, and is actually capable of spending time with them. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, with the little girls barely aware of her presence. It’s time for herself, too, time to sort out her thoughts and let her mind wander.
When Minhee finally falls asleep Gwiboon carefully places her in the crib, desperate not to wake her up, and leaves the door ajar to immediately hear if something is wrong or if the crying starts again. She crosses the corridor into the room she shares with Minjung and collapses down on the bed without even shrugging off her dressing gown.
“You alright?” Minjung asks, her voice sleepy. She shifts a little closer automatically, reaches out until she can brush a strand of hair off Gwiboon’s forehead. “She sleeping?”
“Like an angel,” Gwiboon smiles, allowing her eyes to slip shut. She leans slightly into the fleeting touch, enjoys the way warmth is radiating off Minjung and making her relax as well. “I’m so happy Miyun sleeps through that. I don’t know what I’d do with two screeching girls.”
“Imagine how it’s next doors, with Mrs. Park. She has six.” It’s supposed to make Gwiboon laugh, but it’s only met with silence and thus Minjung opens her eyes, blinks the sleep out of them enough to make out Gwiboon’s features in the dark. The curtains are drawn open so the moonlight is seeping in, and even without any additional light it’s enough.
Gwiboon seems tense, her lips pursed and her forehead creased in a frown. Finally, she lets out a deep breath, burrowing closer against Minjung’s side. “I’m scared,” she admits, silent. She pauses to reach out and tug on the collar of Minjung’s nightgown, as if it somehow gives her the push to go on. “I… I know he wants more children.”
It’s not hard to realize who she’s referring to. It instantly makes anger flare in Minjung’s gut, and she grabs Gwiboon’s wrist firmly to gain her attention. “You can’t have more children. It’ll kill you.” It comes out more insistent than it was meant to, but Minjung can’t help the immense wave of panic that washes through her at the mere thought of watching Gwiboon bleed to death the next time, when her body doesn’t co-operate.
Gwiboon huffs. “There’s not much I can do, is there?” She refuses to look up, her eyes fixed on her fingers, on the way she’s gently smoothing out the soft fabric she’d been gripping.
Then, Minjung sits up. It’s a quick movement and almost startles Gwiboon, who turns to look up, confused. Minjung knows the anger is apparent on her face, but she doesn’t even try to cover any of it. “If he lays a hand on you,” she hisses, “I will kill him.”
Complete silence follows the words, until Gwiboon slowly smiles up at Minjung. It’s the expression Minjung knows from their childhood, the one that means that Gwiboon is indulging her and appreciates the sentiment, yet doesn’t believe a single word of it. Minjung is just about to argue further, but Gwiboon’s softly spoken words manage to cut her off before she even begins.
“I never wanted to share Changho’s bed, I knew that already before we married. But I thought that I’d get used to it, or that it’d be better than I expected.” She looks up, beckons Minjung to lie back down again and hums contently when her wish is granted. “It’s not. It never got better.”
It’s a numb statement, so matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotion. That is enough to make Minjung shudder, and she squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think of her brother touching Gwiboon. It’s an image she’d rather do without.
Gwiboon’s fingers are soft on Minjung’s cheek as she traces her features, brushes over her full lower lip and the narrow arch of her nose. “But I wanted the children. I thought… Changho looks like you. So I figured, if he looks like you… the baby would look like you, too.”
Before, Minjung didn’t know that she could feel overflowing happiness and sheer pain, both at the same time.
Not for the first time, she wishes her brother would just disappear, vanish from their lives and never come back.
The door creaks as it opens, drawing Gwiboon from her thoughts. It’s not often she gets a moment just for herself, not with the children demanding so much of her time, and she’s grown to enjoy the chances she gets to just be alone with her own thoughts. She sets down the needlework she’d been focusing on, offering her husband a slight nod. “Changho. I thought you were riding with your father?”
“We got back early,” he says, avoiding looking at her, as he stands close to the door. It’s obvious he’s there for a reason, even if he’s not approaching her directly. He seems nervous, somewhat, clenching and unclenching his fists while working up to actual words. “I talked with him. And he asked me if we’re going to have a son, soon.”
Gwiboon almost recoils. Her eyes fly wide and she looks at him, disbelieving. “He what? I just got back on my feet after Minhee was born. I’m not ready!” She can’t help it, there’s a hint of panic rising from the tightly wound terror the thought of a new pregnancy instantly evokes in her.
Only then Changho steps a little closer, slight sway in his steps that makes it look like he’d been drinking. His eyes are focused though as he looks at her, his eyes flashing. “Don’t you think you’re finally recovered enough to share the bed with your husband?” he asks, the cutting edge of the words only barely concealed with the veil of politeness.
“No.” Gwiboon stands up. She grabs the fabric of her skirt to have something to hold on to, twists her fingers into it and squeezes so tight her knuckles turn white. “And I won’t be.”
The first response is a deep sigh. “Gwiboon, I am not going to ask again.”
Gwiboon’s jaw is set, her lips pressed to a thin line. “Changho,” she says, not averting her eyes even for a second. “I did not bear you a son, and for that I am sorry. But we have two daughters, two beautiful daughters.” She pauses, inhales deeply. “I am done. Do you hear me, Changho? I am done. You may sleep wherever you please, but it will not be with me.”
The tension is clear in Changho’s body, in the way he’s holding himself completely still, as if afraid to move a single muscle. For a second he looks ready to raise his hand against Gwiboon, to strike her right across her face. His nostrils flare with the deep breath he takes, but when he opens his mouth to speak he snaps it shut immediately after, before turning on his heels.
With a loud slam of the door he is gone.
Several moments later, Gwiboon finally dares to breathe again, unfurling her shaky fingers from her skirt. Her hands are shaking, and as soon as she realizes that she can feel the tremble go up her spine, making her shiver thoroughly.
Silently, she drops down to sit on the bed, mouthing a silent thank you to the heavens.
Changho doesn’t say a single word about the exchange afterwards. He goes out more, returns only when everyone else has already gone to bed, and never gets up before it’s time for lunch. His eyes are bloodshot, and Gwiboon knows it’s all her fault, that she’s driving her husband into this. She had honest respect for the man when they got married, liked him throughout all of their childhood years, and now she’s driving him to an early grave? The guilt sits heavy in the pit of her stomach.
Little does she know that Minjung blames herself instead, for the way things have turned. Maybe if she hadn’t fallen in love with her brother’s wife and disrupted their life, maybe things would be better then, maybe. She knows what Gwiboon’s told her, that the marriage hasn’t been well right from the beginning, but yet the nagging feeling of being at fault never leaves her alone.
They all pretend like nothing is wrong. Minhee is too small to notice any of the odd looks exchanged, and Miyun is too happy with her baby sister and the doting adults around her to see anything else. She’s the only one who manages to make Changho smile these days, too. For how rarely he spends time with them, Changho does adore his children and when Miyun makes him read her a book, he instantly obliges.
Minjung has taken the opportunity to visit their parents, so when Gwiboon excuses herself to the next room to feed the baby, it leaves Changho alone with his older daughter. If only Miyun would’ve been a boy, she would’ve made a perfect heir to the family with her sharp wit and outspoken nature. They read the book together, and after that Miyun plays in her own imaginary world while Changho sits in his armchair, enjoying a glass of wine.
For the first time in over a year, he actually feels like his life has some order in it.
Until Miyun pads over to him, places both her little hands on his knees and smiles up at him. “Can you braid my hair?” she asks, eyes shining. It almost makes Changho apologize but instead he only says that no, he can’t, but decides to forego the lecture about addressing one’s parents with utmost respect.
“It’s okay! I’ll get mom do it. Where is mom?” she asks, seemingly not phased in the least.
“Your mother is feeding the baby,” Changho answers, but as the last word leaves his lips he hears the door creak at the same moment, and knows that Gwiboon has just stepped into the room. She’s probably managed to make the baby go to sleep for a nap finally. “There she is now, you may ask her.”
Miyun spins around and spots Gwiboon, and to Changho’s surprise instantly shakes her head. “No, not mommy! Mommy’s braids aren’t pretty, they’re messy. I want mom.”
For a second, Changho is stunned into silence. Then he sees how all the blood drains off Gwiboon’s face, sees her horrified expression and the way she already steps closer to scoop the little girl into her arms. And that is when he makes the connection. That is when he realizes just how much he’s been fooled, how much his whole life has been stolen from him.
He screams, he yells, he says words little girls aren’t supposed to even know and he doesn’t even know all the filth that leaves his mouth. All he knows is the anger burning inside of him, the blinding rage that makes him want to raise his hand against his wife. Even if he refrains from doing that, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t think it satisfying to let his anger out in a concrete way.
To stop himself from doing anything even worse he almost runs out of the room.
Miyun is crying hysterically by then, clutching on to Gwiboon’s shirt and sobbing into her neck. Gwiboon herself is too numb to feel anything, she only keeps patting Miyun’s hair and telling her over and over again that it’s okay, it’s okay, father only had a bad day he’s not really mad, no one is going to get hurt, it’s okay, it’s all fine.
She doesn’t believe a word she’s saying.
When Miyun has calmed down enough to sleep, Gwiboon doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s grateful that the maid’s quarters are at the other end of the house, and that there’s no one else in right at this moment. She would never be able to keep up the façade that everything is fine. She wishes for Minjung, though, wants to throw herself at her and never let go, but she doesn’t want to pile one more selfish deed onto her conscience.
So she walks down to the kitchen, tries to keep her hands from shaking as she sets out to make tea. It’s the only thing she can figure out to calm herself down, the only semblance of normalcy she can create right now.
Of course, not even that works out. The big teapot slips from her fingers and smashes into thousands of little shards at her feet. She crouches down to pick them up, and it’s the first shard that cuts so deep into her palm that it breaks through the skin with ease. At first there’s only the warm trickle of blood, followed by the piercing pain, and that is what breaks her cool.
It doesn’t hurt so much, not really. She’s gotten bigger injuries without crying, without even batting an eye. Yet now she can’t hold back the tears that fall freely down her cheeks as she drops down and curls into herself, letting it all out. The thoughts in her head are way too much of a mess, so there’s nothing else but allowing the emotion to take over.
Only when the sobs have subsided enough she straightens, takes several deep breaths and tries to figure out what to do. The cut needs to be tended to, it still hasn’t stopped bleeding and it’s beginning to hurt more and more. Functioning completely on autopilot, thoroughly cried out, she takes the closest towel and wraps it around her hand, before heading to wake Hyein up.
Hyein is almost hysterical at first, asking what happened, but when Gwiboon tells her she just slipped making tea she calms down again. She gets dressed as quick as she can and promises to go get Doctor Lee, and says she will clean up the mess from the kitchen as soon as she’s back. Then she, quite firmly, guides Gwiboon to the sitting room and makes her curl up on the couch to wait. She even orders her not to move, and it earns the first smile from Gwiboon in hours.
Miraculously, Gwiboon manages to even doze off and is only woken up by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She blinks her eyes open and it’s Hyein, urging her to sit up. There’s a cup of steaming hot tea on the table next to the seat, but she doesn’t even reach for it as she notices Jinki looking at her quite worriedly.
Hyein makes her quiet exit, while Jinki sits down next to Gwiboon and reaches for the injured hand. He unwraps the towel, examines the damage and only then opens his massive medical kit to rummage through it. All of that happens in complete silence, and Gwiboon is starting to feel like a complete fool, so she opens her mouth to explain. “I only wanted some tea, I don’t know what came on to me. I do not tend to be this clumsy.”
Jinki gives her an odd look, doesn’t reply, and only when he’s done bandaging the hand properly he looks up again. By then, Gwiboon is feeling more than a little uncomfortable. “May I speak freely, Mrs. Choi?”
“Of course you can,” Gwiboon hurries to assure. She sighs. “It’s in the middle of the night, I’ve acted like a child and called you from your home. You have no obligation to be formal, nor even polite to me.”
At that, Jinki smiles softly. “I have no desire to be rude to you.” He closes his kit, and finally turns his full attention to Gwiboon. “What upset you so much this happened?”
It’s a question Gwiboon isn’t ready to answer. She knows that Jinki is aware of most of what happens under this roof, but still, putting it into words is another thing. “My husband,” she swallows hard, “was brought to awareness of… certain issues he wasn’t ready to… quite accommodate to.”
“I see.” Jinki nods. “Did he do this?”
“Did he -?” Gwiboon doesn’t even notice she raises her voice, but then quickly lowers it again not to attract any possible attention. “No. He was upset. He is upset. He’s… I don’t know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s coming back. I don’t know if I want him to come back!”
She snaps her mouth shut. She’s said too much. Yet… “I’m scared of him and I know that it’s me who turned him the man he is. I pushed him away and I betrayed his trust with the one person he was supposed to be able to trust forever, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
It feels surprisingly good to let it all out. She knows she’s being vague, but maybe, probably, Jinki knows enough to piece everything together like it’s supposed to be understood. Yet, there’s that silence again and Gwiboon almost falls into another bout of nervous babbling before Jinki speaks up.
“I’m in no position to give advice,” he says softly, “but I can say this: You didn’t turn Changho into anything. He made his own choices, some of them were forced upon him by responsibility, but you didn’t decide any of it. You’re a victim as much as he is.”
“But I-” Again the goddamn tears, Gwiboon blinks stubbornly until they’re subsiding. “I shouldn’t have fallen for her.”
“You can never help who you love,” Jinki almost whispers. “I know it as well as you.” He stands up, ready to leave, and gives Gwiboon one last melancholy smile. “I’m in love with this beautiful, talented woman, who caught my eye the moment I saw her. I thought, for some unfathomable reason she isn’t yet married, and I might ask for her hand.”
He pauses, grabs his bag and turns, halfway. “Turns out, she’s in love. Not only with the one who she gave her heart to first, but also with her beautiful children. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing she can do. We only live on the best we can.”
Gwiboon is so stunned she can’t utter a single word. She stares at Jinki, unblinking, and tries to wrap her mind around the words and their meaning.
“We are caught in this web,” Jinki finishes. “I’m afraid none of us is the spider. We’re all mere flies.”
He leaves without another word. Gwiboon feels like she’s still asleep, none of that could’ve possibly been real. She sits there for hours, until she hears the cook unlock the backdoor and Hyein begin her morning routines. Her tea has gone cold and her palm is still throbbing, but inside she feels like the storm is finally settling.
She feels oddly calm.
It’s almost noon when Minjung arrives back. She’s a little disappointed that Gwiboon isn’t waiting for her at the lobby, but heads straight into the nursery since she knows that’s the next best option. She’s been away only for one night and yet she misses them all, misses her family, and she has spring to her steps all the way.
What she sees at the nursery stops her in her tracks though. The girls are both asleep, she should’ve remembered it’s Miyun’s naptime and for once Minhee seems to be miraculously sleeping at the same time. But instead of getting up and greeting her, Gwiboon stands there by the dresser, looking like a ghost of herself. When Minjung spots the bandaged hand, she downright panics. “Gwiboon! What happened?”
She raises her voice enough to make Miyun stir, but thankfully neither of the girls wake up, and that seems to act as a cue for Gwiboon to practically fly into Minjung’s arms to clutch her as tight as she can. There are tears, even if not as uncontrollable as they might have been the night before. Surprisingly soon Gwiboon has calmed down enough and they sit down, as close as possible on the small loveseat, for her to tell Minjung everything.
There’s a myriad of emotions running through Minjung but Gwiboon clutches her hand so tight she can’t go anywhere, can’t act on any impulse she might have. So she sits, she listens. She hears about the previous night and how everything went down, how Changho still hasn’t appeared back. And when Gwiboon begins talking, she doesn’t stop. Not before she’s certain she’s told Minjung everything she’d ever need to know.
“I used to respect him,” Gwiboon finally sighs, “if nothing more. All he wants from me is a son and I failed him in that, too. I couldn’t even love him.” She’s leaning against Minjung now, her head on Minjung’s shoulder, and it feels like they’re sitting so close together they’re trying to merge into one.
“What do we do?” Minjung asks, the only thing she can think of.
Gwiboon shrugs, lightly. “We keep going. Changho won’t want anything to do with me anymore. Not after all this. We’ll just have to… avoid him. As much as we can while living in the same house.”
“He’s going to send me away, isn’t he? Maybe he even sends you back to your parents.” Minjung’s heart is beating rapidly, with adrenaline, as she’s trying to come up with a possible scenario for the two of them to find each other again, if things go the worst possible way.
“He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s your brother, Minjung. You should know him,” Gwiboon smiles, but there’s nothing happy in it. “The last thing he wants to do is disappoint your parents. He’s going to keep pretending everything is as perfect as it should be for our perfect family in a perfect world. And we’re going to help him keep up that front. It’s the least I can do for him, Minjung. The only thing I can give him.”
“People are still going to talk,” Minjung says. “I don’t want to go, I never do, but I shouldn’t be here.”
“But I want you here!” Gwiboon pulls back, her eyes flashing. “We have created such a mess. It’s impossible to go back from it now, what good would it do if you left? Minjung,” she pauses, completely serious, “you have been there for me more than he ever was. In every way that matters, you’ve always been my husband. Your place is with me.”
Gwiboon knows it’s a selfish thing to ask for. Yet she also knows it’s the very same thing Minjung wishes for. In the eyes of the society, there’s nothing right about this situation, there’s nothing acceptable or redeemable. For them, the only regret is that Changho’s life had to get twisted up into theirs until it cut him to the bone.
To Minjung, this feels like absolution. It’s like a boulder off her shoulders. She leans in and brushes their noses together, ghosts her lips over Gwiboon’s cheek, and rests her forehead into the crook of Gwiboon’s neck.
This is home.
A week later, Changho is still gone. Otherwise, life goes on. Life slips back into its usual flow.
If Gwiboon was to pick the favourite part of her day, she would probably say it’s when they put the children to bed. Sometimes, the girls fall asleep easily in their own room, in their own beds, but sometimes they have troubles letting go of the excess energy from the activities of the day, and they all end up in the room Minjung and Gwiboon share. Minhee is huddled up in a comfortable baby blanket in Gwiboon’s arms, while Miyun gets to cuddle between the grown ups on the large mattress.
Sometimes, Minjung tells them stories. She has read every book she’s gotten her hands on and she remembers all the adventures in them, remembers the fresh feeling of each book as she gets lost in the storyline. It doesn’t even matter what she tells about, Miyun eats up every single word like it’s golden, gazing up at Minjung from adoring eyes. Although Minhee is too little to yet understand the excitement of storytime, she is usually quiet too, listening.
Moments like this fill Gwiboon’s heart with so much joy she never knew it possible. She’s been blessed with so much, she thinks as she brushes over Minhee’s soft tufts of hair, smiles at Minjung faking different voices for the scary witch and the brave little princess. She could keep this forever and be completely content. On the other hand, she is looking forward to the girls being a little older, challenging Minjung’s storytelling abilities with their endless questioning.
Suddenly there’s a quick knock on the door, and Gwiboon exchanges a confused glance with Minjung. There shouldn’t be anyone here at this hour. Their cook finishes early evening, and the maid is free already, probably in her living quarters in the other wing of the house. “Yes?” Gwiboon finally acknowledges the second knock.
The door opens slowly, and Hyein sticks her head in. Her hair is dishevelled, her eyes bleary as if she’d been already sleeping and then awoken suddenly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Choi, but…” she trails off, before swallowing hard and speaking up again. “Doctor Lee would like to see you downstairs. It’s… urgent.”
She seems distressed so Gwiboon doesn’t question it. Gently, she passes Minhee over to Minjung, giving her a small reassuring smile as she climbs out of bed. She’s in her nightwear already, so she grabs the knitted shawl from the armchair and wraps it around her form. She sends Hyein back to sleep, before heading downstairs to see what the matter is.
As soon as she’s in the middle of the staircase she can see what’s wrong. Jinki is standing there, in the corridor and close to the door, one arm wrapped around Changho’s waist to keep him even moderately upright. They both seem more or less drenched so it must’ve been raining, but that’s obviously not the biggest issue here.
Changho is drunk. He’s barely able to support himself while leaning heavily against Jinki, and his eyes are unfocused when they finally land on Gwiboon. Not a word is exchanged, not before Gwiboon has hurried down the last of the steps and reaches out to help Jinki with his burden. “Oh, what happened? Is he-”
She doesn’t get any further before Changho pries himself off Jinki’s hold and practically falls forward against Gwiboon, so close that the coldness radiating from his wet clothes makes Gwiboon shudder involuntarily. Changho brings a hand up to push Gwiboon’s hair back over her shoulder, the touch lingering for a second.
“Do you know what people are saying?” he hisses, his stale breath hot over Gwiboon’s skin. He’s swaying slightly, getting even closer, and instinctively Gwiboon raises her arms between them to push at his shoulders. “Do you know!?” Changho suddenly yells, so loud it seems to echo off the walls in the otherwise silent house.
That’s when Jinki grabs Changho’s arms and yanks him away from Gwiboon, even if it makes them both stagger a little as they almost lose balance. Both Jinki and Gwiboon are shocked beyond being able to form any coherent reply, but Changho laughs. It’s an eerie sound, the laughter of a mind frayed close to its limits. “They say I can’t even control my wife. That my wife is more a man than I am. They say I am not worthy to be called by the name of my family!”
Gwiboon stands frozen to the ground, her eyes wide. Is this really the man she married? She’s known of his temper, has known of his drinking, but she’s never seen him like this, so driven to the edge. She isn’t even scared, she’s too numb to feel anything at all.
“I was a fool,” Changho goes on, his words less clear one by one, as the rage burns off and leaves behind only his inebriated mind. “I was a fool. Fool. Deceived by a beautiful face. Pity the fool. How I loved you. How I adored you!” He laughs, although it doesn’t sound much like it anymore with how slurred it is, his whole body threatening to fall forward despite the fact that Jinki is holding on to him as best as he can.
Finally, Gwiboon shakes herself out of the trance-like state the whole moment seemed to have progressed in. She inhales deeply, trying to make her voice steady enough to not break. “Put him on the couch,” she instructs. She wraps the shawl tighter around her form, suppressing a shiver from the mere thought of what her marriage has become. She’s spending the family life with her husband’s sister, while the man himself is out there drowning himself in alcohol and paid company.
Gwiboon knows she’s the only one to blame for that. She’s the one who drove her husband away from her, who told him to never touch her again, to never share the marital bed with her again. All because of the demands of her traitorous heart. Maybe if Minjung wasn’t there, if she didn’t live with them… but no, it’s a thought Gwiboon doesn’t even want to consider in passing. She wouldn’t have survived without Minjung.
She might be selfish, she knows that. Yet there is no way she is giving up on the only person she’s ever fallen in love with.
Finally, Jinki manages to get the heavy boots off Changho’s feet, placing them next to the wall. Changho is already passed out, lying on the couch where he landed ungracefully. He still looks angry, even in sleep, as if it’s burning inside of him so strong he can’t let go of it even for a second. His hatred has been festering so long there’s no way out of it anymore.
Jinki follows Gwiboon’s gaze and for a moment, they both stand there side by side watching Changho snore in his drunken stupor. Finally, Jinki places a gentle hand on Gwiboon’s shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
Gwiboon presses her lips to a thin line. Even if she tries to think of what she’s lost, of the failure her marriage has become, her mind keeps on straying to everything she’s gained. She has her daughters, she has Minjung by her side, and in the end, is there anything else she could even hope for?
She places her hand atop Jinki’s, and gives it a small squeeze before stepping back. “No,” she says. “I am not.”
---
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I really hope you liked it~ :3 And as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts of it!
Next… idk which project will be finished next but right now I’m working on a pretty long school!au and a het!minkey where Minho is a hot car mechanic. So… either of those probably :)
@DW.
Author: fonulyn
Rating: PG13
Pairing: girl!Minho/Key (Minjung/Gwiboon), onesided Onew/Minjung, Gwiboon/OC
Warnings: fluffy angst, what was it called? flangst? ;)
Wordcount: 7045 (this chapter, 14 149 overall)
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Minjung is in love with her brother’s wife. (Sequel to Secret Dreams but can stand alone.)
Comments: So here, second part as promised :) I am overjoyed that I’m not the only one enjoying this verse! Thank you so much to everyone who commented and showed their support~♥
Part I
Things only get better. At least if one asks Minjung. Gwiboon is still confined to bed rest, even though she can stand up and walk a few steps at a time, but the nursery is all the way to the other end of the corridor. Changho makes it very clear he thinks Gwiboon has to return to the marital bed, so that her current room can be turned into a new nursery. “It’s about time,” he says, “that you’ll return to your rightful place. It’s been months.”
“In case you missed something, dear husband,” Gwiboon says, “there were certain special circumstances.” At first Minjung flinches at the tone of her voice, hearing her talk like that to Changho of all people. Yet Changho seems to be used to it as he simply sets his mouth to a firm line. He never gets the chance to respond, though.
“I have heard you, and I respect your opinion.” Gwiboon says it with such an air of finality, everyone knows that there’s something else to follow. “But I will not move back to your bed. I will move into the guestroom across from the nursery. That is not up for discussion.”
There she is, pale and fragile from all those months spent in bed, sitting carefully on the edge of a plush armchair and wrapped in a lacy shawl. Yet everyone simply stares at her and no one has even half the mind to argue. They know her well enough to see the way she’s squared her shoulders, and she will not back down then. She never has.
Briefly Changho looks almost comically surprised as even if he and Gwiboon have had their arguments during the course of the marriage, she has never directly opposed him. In the end, she has always bent to his will and done what he’s insisted on. Swiftly he schools his expression into an unimpressed one though. “I see. Expect me to never set foot in that room.”
He leaves, and along with him leaves the awkward tension that seemed to make the air too thick to breathe. Quickly Minjung turns to Gwiboon, unable to keep the words at bay anymore. “What did you even think? He is going to be so mad!”
“I don’t care.” Gwiboon shrugs, even if her expression speaks of another language.
“Gwiboon,” Minjung sighs, deflating. “Are you sure? I know your marriage isn’t… quite what it used to be but…”
“Quite what it used to be!?” Gwiboon raises her voice this time, her eyes flashing as she looks up. “What do you even know about my marriage, Minjung?” She doesn’t even slow down although Minjung takes half a step back. “If I recall properly, you saw fit to leave when the wedding ceremony was barely over. You ignored me for months after, and even if you talked to me you never listened.”
Minjung knows that’s true. Yet how could she have listened to Gwiboon talk about her marriage when every single word would have been like a new knife slammed into her flesh. She sits down slowly, all fight gone from her, remaining silent.
It seems to do the same to Gwiboon. “I’m sorry,” she sighs. “But Minjung, if you had listened to me straight from the beginning you would know how things have been. This has been no fairytale marriage. Changho… he is a gentleman, he is. Yet I am not a proper wife for him. I can’t be what he needs. He is finally realizing that.”
“It’s taken him quite long,” Minjung mutters, for the lack of anything better to say. There’s too much to grasp.
Gwiboon smiles, softly. “It’s hard to give up on your hopes.”
That is something they both are more than aware of, and something neither of them has been able to yet do. Maybe never will. Finally, Minjung lets out the breath she’s been holding and stands up, ruffling the hem of her skirt nervously. “I’m going to clear my possessions from the room so you can have it. I’ll just move here instead. Unless you want me to go home?”
At that, Gwiboon looks at her oddly. “Home? This is your home.” Then the sparkle is back in her eyes. “It will not be my room, Minjung. It will be our room.”
Every day they have the same argument. Gwiboon insists that she’s perfectly capable of getting out of bed already, while Minjung tells her that already the ten steps from the bed to the dresser are more straining than she should take right now. It’s a wonder, Minjung thinks, how she wins the arguments every single time. She doesn’t remember a time from their childhood when Gwiboon backed down so easily, but she’s not going to question it.
Instead, she sets out to bring the little girls to Gwiboon instead. Miyun spends hours playing on the floor next to the bed, lounging at the foot of the bed listening to the adults talk, or just spontaneously shuffling up to hug her mother. She’s been told that Gwiboon isn’t feeling well, and she knows that the perfect cure for not feeling well is hugs, lots of hugs. The baby seems to be set on sleeping as much as she possibly can, only waking up for feeding every now and then.
“May I hold her?” Miyun asks, reaching chubby little fingers towards Minhee. Carefully, very carefully, she touches the baby’s cheek and then pats her tummy, smiling like it’s the best thing she’s ever experienced. Her eyes are drooping though, her head nodding slightly as she’s fighting to stay awake and spend a little more time with the adults before it’s obligatory bedtime.
Gwiboon notices that very well, but she doesn’t have the heart to say no. “Of course you may. Sit on aunt Minjung’s lap okay? She will help you.” Obediently, Miyun climbs into Minjung’s lap, allows herself to be settled properly against her, and then reaches out her arms again for the baby. Carefully, Gwiboon sets Minhee into Miyun’s lap, knowing that Minjung will circle her arms around the both of them safely to keep them close.
As soon as Miyun gets to hold her little sister her smile widens even more, the smile lightening up her whole face. She coos at the baby, babbles at her in what she’s convinced is their own secret language, and for a moment seems more awake before she begins to nod off again.
“It’s bedtime now,” Minjung whispers straight into Miyun’s ear, making the girl giggle as it tickles. Obediently Miyun allows Gwiboon to take the baby away, and then turns around to drape her arms around Minjung’s neck so she can cling on to her like a tiny monkey. She does send a longing glance towards the baby though, and Minjung smiles. “I’ll take you into bed and then I’ll come back for Minhee. Don’t worry.”
“Mommy?” Miyun asks suddenly, raising her head to look straight at Gwiboon with her sleepy, barely open eyes.
Gwiboon’s voice is filled with nothing but tenderness as she takes in the adorableness in front of her. “What is it, sweetie?”
“May I call aunt Minjung ‘mom’ too?”
It’s like the time is frozen for a second, and Minjung is certain she absolutely stops breathing for several heartbeats. Gwiboon looks as surprised as she feels, her eyes wide and mouth hesitantly open, until she melts into a brilliant smile. “Of course you may.”
“Okay,” Miyun says happily and buries her face into her second mom’s neck again, almost asleep at the very instant. The adults still exchange a look, knowing they’ll talk about this later, but right now Minjung focuses on getting both of the children back into the nursery and fast asleep. It takes longer than she’d wish this time, even if normally she enjoys the bedtime routines with both of the girls.
When she’s back Gwiboon is sitting in the plush armchair, a pitcher of tea and two cups on the table next to her. As soon as she spots Minjung she wordlessly pours them both a cup.
Minjung sighs. “Gwiboon… you’re not supposed to strain yourself. The kitchen is all the way downstairs.” She’s exasperated and she knows it shows, but Gwiboon only waves it aside.
“I only made it to the stairs, before I ran into Hyein. She made us tea and brought it up.” That now explains, since even if Gwiboon had tried to get all the way into the kitchen and back she never would’ve managed this fast, nor looked so calm and collected right after. Minjung can’t stop a wave of relief at the maid being up exceptionally late.
So she sits down and accepts the drink, carefully blowing on it as it’s a little bit too hot. The golden brown liquid sloshes slightly, almost on her hands, and she’s nearly done drinking it as Gwiboon reaches to fill herself another cup. “Minjung,” she begins, only looking at her hands still. Her fingers are shaking. “I know this isn’t what you asked for. It’s not what you wanted. It’s not what you deserve.” Her voice chokes a little on the last word.
“I don’t-”
“Minjung, please.” Gwiboon looks up, her eyes shining although she’s stubbornly not shedding a single tear. “Please don’t waste your life. This is never going to be easy. And I want you to be happy.”
The porcelain clatters when Minjung drops the almost empty cup on the table, quick on her feet and even more quickly kneeling right in front of Gwiboon. She leans in, rests her head on Gwiboon’s lap and closes her eyes, as somehow not looking at her makes it easier to say what she has to. “I’m not wasting anything,” she whispers. “Don’t make me leave, since I swear to you, I will not go.”
Gwiboon’s fingers thread gently through the thick strands of Minjung’s hair, and the touch is nothing but soothing, gentle in its steadiness. She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to. Minjung turns her head and presses her face into Gwiboon’s stomach, against the soft layers of cotton. “I am happy.”
Patiently Gwiboon coaxes Minjung to look up, and that is all the confirmation she needs.
Gwiboon’s fingers splay over Minjung’s cheeks as she pulls her in, the grip a hint too tight, but she feels like everything would otherwise slip away from her and she isn’t ready for it, she can’t have it. Minjung still touches her like she’s a fragile doll, but now forgets about it for a second as she yanks Gwiboon down, on the floor, limbs tangled
That night, there’s desperation to their kisses that has never existed before. Not quite like this.
It’s unbelievable, Gwiboon thinks, how someone as fragile and small as Minhee can have so much strength in her lungs. The baby has been screeching for hours on end, sometimes the frantic crying quieting down to silent sobs, sometimes turning back into ear-shattering wailing. She’s tried everything she can think of to make Minhee calm down but nothing seems to help except for walking around the nursery while swaying her slightly.
So that’s exactly what she’s been doing for half of the night. Minjung was right there with her until Miyun was breathing evenly, already in the land of dreams despite the noise her baby sister was making. That’s when Gwiboon sent Minjung to bed, too, told her to get some rest. She’s been feeling stronger day by day, she knows she can handle taking care of her little ones. Even if she’s not in full health quite yet, she’s well on her way there.
All in all, Gwiboon doesn’t really mind this, either. She feels like she owes it to her children to try be with them as much as possible, now that she’s not bedridden anymore, and is actually capable of spending time with them. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, with the little girls barely aware of her presence. It’s time for herself, too, time to sort out her thoughts and let her mind wander.
When Minhee finally falls asleep Gwiboon carefully places her in the crib, desperate not to wake her up, and leaves the door ajar to immediately hear if something is wrong or if the crying starts again. She crosses the corridor into the room she shares with Minjung and collapses down on the bed without even shrugging off her dressing gown.
“You alright?” Minjung asks, her voice sleepy. She shifts a little closer automatically, reaches out until she can brush a strand of hair off Gwiboon’s forehead. “She sleeping?”
“Like an angel,” Gwiboon smiles, allowing her eyes to slip shut. She leans slightly into the fleeting touch, enjoys the way warmth is radiating off Minjung and making her relax as well. “I’m so happy Miyun sleeps through that. I don’t know what I’d do with two screeching girls.”
“Imagine how it’s next doors, with Mrs. Park. She has six.” It’s supposed to make Gwiboon laugh, but it’s only met with silence and thus Minjung opens her eyes, blinks the sleep out of them enough to make out Gwiboon’s features in the dark. The curtains are drawn open so the moonlight is seeping in, and even without any additional light it’s enough.
Gwiboon seems tense, her lips pursed and her forehead creased in a frown. Finally, she lets out a deep breath, burrowing closer against Minjung’s side. “I’m scared,” she admits, silent. She pauses to reach out and tug on the collar of Minjung’s nightgown, as if it somehow gives her the push to go on. “I… I know he wants more children.”
It’s not hard to realize who she’s referring to. It instantly makes anger flare in Minjung’s gut, and she grabs Gwiboon’s wrist firmly to gain her attention. “You can’t have more children. It’ll kill you.” It comes out more insistent than it was meant to, but Minjung can’t help the immense wave of panic that washes through her at the mere thought of watching Gwiboon bleed to death the next time, when her body doesn’t co-operate.
Gwiboon huffs. “There’s not much I can do, is there?” She refuses to look up, her eyes fixed on her fingers, on the way she’s gently smoothing out the soft fabric she’d been gripping.
Then, Minjung sits up. It’s a quick movement and almost startles Gwiboon, who turns to look up, confused. Minjung knows the anger is apparent on her face, but she doesn’t even try to cover any of it. “If he lays a hand on you,” she hisses, “I will kill him.”
Complete silence follows the words, until Gwiboon slowly smiles up at Minjung. It’s the expression Minjung knows from their childhood, the one that means that Gwiboon is indulging her and appreciates the sentiment, yet doesn’t believe a single word of it. Minjung is just about to argue further, but Gwiboon’s softly spoken words manage to cut her off before she even begins.
“I never wanted to share Changho’s bed, I knew that already before we married. But I thought that I’d get used to it, or that it’d be better than I expected.” She looks up, beckons Minjung to lie back down again and hums contently when her wish is granted. “It’s not. It never got better.”
It’s a numb statement, so matter-of-fact, devoid of any emotion. That is enough to make Minjung shudder, and she squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think of her brother touching Gwiboon. It’s an image she’d rather do without.
Gwiboon’s fingers are soft on Minjung’s cheek as she traces her features, brushes over her full lower lip and the narrow arch of her nose. “But I wanted the children. I thought… Changho looks like you. So I figured, if he looks like you… the baby would look like you, too.”
Before, Minjung didn’t know that she could feel overflowing happiness and sheer pain, both at the same time.
Not for the first time, she wishes her brother would just disappear, vanish from their lives and never come back.
The door creaks as it opens, drawing Gwiboon from her thoughts. It’s not often she gets a moment just for herself, not with the children demanding so much of her time, and she’s grown to enjoy the chances she gets to just be alone with her own thoughts. She sets down the needlework she’d been focusing on, offering her husband a slight nod. “Changho. I thought you were riding with your father?”
“We got back early,” he says, avoiding looking at her, as he stands close to the door. It’s obvious he’s there for a reason, even if he’s not approaching her directly. He seems nervous, somewhat, clenching and unclenching his fists while working up to actual words. “I talked with him. And he asked me if we’re going to have a son, soon.”
Gwiboon almost recoils. Her eyes fly wide and she looks at him, disbelieving. “He what? I just got back on my feet after Minhee was born. I’m not ready!” She can’t help it, there’s a hint of panic rising from the tightly wound terror the thought of a new pregnancy instantly evokes in her.
Only then Changho steps a little closer, slight sway in his steps that makes it look like he’d been drinking. His eyes are focused though as he looks at her, his eyes flashing. “Don’t you think you’re finally recovered enough to share the bed with your husband?” he asks, the cutting edge of the words only barely concealed with the veil of politeness.
“No.” Gwiboon stands up. She grabs the fabric of her skirt to have something to hold on to, twists her fingers into it and squeezes so tight her knuckles turn white. “And I won’t be.”
The first response is a deep sigh. “Gwiboon, I am not going to ask again.”
Gwiboon’s jaw is set, her lips pressed to a thin line. “Changho,” she says, not averting her eyes even for a second. “I did not bear you a son, and for that I am sorry. But we have two daughters, two beautiful daughters.” She pauses, inhales deeply. “I am done. Do you hear me, Changho? I am done. You may sleep wherever you please, but it will not be with me.”
The tension is clear in Changho’s body, in the way he’s holding himself completely still, as if afraid to move a single muscle. For a second he looks ready to raise his hand against Gwiboon, to strike her right across her face. His nostrils flare with the deep breath he takes, but when he opens his mouth to speak he snaps it shut immediately after, before turning on his heels.
With a loud slam of the door he is gone.
Several moments later, Gwiboon finally dares to breathe again, unfurling her shaky fingers from her skirt. Her hands are shaking, and as soon as she realizes that she can feel the tremble go up her spine, making her shiver thoroughly.
Silently, she drops down to sit on the bed, mouthing a silent thank you to the heavens.
Changho doesn’t say a single word about the exchange afterwards. He goes out more, returns only when everyone else has already gone to bed, and never gets up before it’s time for lunch. His eyes are bloodshot, and Gwiboon knows it’s all her fault, that she’s driving her husband into this. She had honest respect for the man when they got married, liked him throughout all of their childhood years, and now she’s driving him to an early grave? The guilt sits heavy in the pit of her stomach.
Little does she know that Minjung blames herself instead, for the way things have turned. Maybe if she hadn’t fallen in love with her brother’s wife and disrupted their life, maybe things would be better then, maybe. She knows what Gwiboon’s told her, that the marriage hasn’t been well right from the beginning, but yet the nagging feeling of being at fault never leaves her alone.
They all pretend like nothing is wrong. Minhee is too small to notice any of the odd looks exchanged, and Miyun is too happy with her baby sister and the doting adults around her to see anything else. She’s the only one who manages to make Changho smile these days, too. For how rarely he spends time with them, Changho does adore his children and when Miyun makes him read her a book, he instantly obliges.
Minjung has taken the opportunity to visit their parents, so when Gwiboon excuses herself to the next room to feed the baby, it leaves Changho alone with his older daughter. If only Miyun would’ve been a boy, she would’ve made a perfect heir to the family with her sharp wit and outspoken nature. They read the book together, and after that Miyun plays in her own imaginary world while Changho sits in his armchair, enjoying a glass of wine.
For the first time in over a year, he actually feels like his life has some order in it.
Until Miyun pads over to him, places both her little hands on his knees and smiles up at him. “Can you braid my hair?” she asks, eyes shining. It almost makes Changho apologize but instead he only says that no, he can’t, but decides to forego the lecture about addressing one’s parents with utmost respect.
“It’s okay! I’ll get mom do it. Where is mom?” she asks, seemingly not phased in the least.
“Your mother is feeding the baby,” Changho answers, but as the last word leaves his lips he hears the door creak at the same moment, and knows that Gwiboon has just stepped into the room. She’s probably managed to make the baby go to sleep for a nap finally. “There she is now, you may ask her.”
Miyun spins around and spots Gwiboon, and to Changho’s surprise instantly shakes her head. “No, not mommy! Mommy’s braids aren’t pretty, they’re messy. I want mom.”
For a second, Changho is stunned into silence. Then he sees how all the blood drains off Gwiboon’s face, sees her horrified expression and the way she already steps closer to scoop the little girl into her arms. And that is when he makes the connection. That is when he realizes just how much he’s been fooled, how much his whole life has been stolen from him.
He screams, he yells, he says words little girls aren’t supposed to even know and he doesn’t even know all the filth that leaves his mouth. All he knows is the anger burning inside of him, the blinding rage that makes him want to raise his hand against his wife. Even if he refrains from doing that, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t think it satisfying to let his anger out in a concrete way.
To stop himself from doing anything even worse he almost runs out of the room.
Miyun is crying hysterically by then, clutching on to Gwiboon’s shirt and sobbing into her neck. Gwiboon herself is too numb to feel anything, she only keeps patting Miyun’s hair and telling her over and over again that it’s okay, it’s okay, father only had a bad day he’s not really mad, no one is going to get hurt, it’s okay, it’s all fine.
She doesn’t believe a word she’s saying.
When Miyun has calmed down enough to sleep, Gwiboon doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s grateful that the maid’s quarters are at the other end of the house, and that there’s no one else in right at this moment. She would never be able to keep up the façade that everything is fine. She wishes for Minjung, though, wants to throw herself at her and never let go, but she doesn’t want to pile one more selfish deed onto her conscience.
So she walks down to the kitchen, tries to keep her hands from shaking as she sets out to make tea. It’s the only thing she can figure out to calm herself down, the only semblance of normalcy she can create right now.
Of course, not even that works out. The big teapot slips from her fingers and smashes into thousands of little shards at her feet. She crouches down to pick them up, and it’s the first shard that cuts so deep into her palm that it breaks through the skin with ease. At first there’s only the warm trickle of blood, followed by the piercing pain, and that is what breaks her cool.
It doesn’t hurt so much, not really. She’s gotten bigger injuries without crying, without even batting an eye. Yet now she can’t hold back the tears that fall freely down her cheeks as she drops down and curls into herself, letting it all out. The thoughts in her head are way too much of a mess, so there’s nothing else but allowing the emotion to take over.
Only when the sobs have subsided enough she straightens, takes several deep breaths and tries to figure out what to do. The cut needs to be tended to, it still hasn’t stopped bleeding and it’s beginning to hurt more and more. Functioning completely on autopilot, thoroughly cried out, she takes the closest towel and wraps it around her hand, before heading to wake Hyein up.
Hyein is almost hysterical at first, asking what happened, but when Gwiboon tells her she just slipped making tea she calms down again. She gets dressed as quick as she can and promises to go get Doctor Lee, and says she will clean up the mess from the kitchen as soon as she’s back. Then she, quite firmly, guides Gwiboon to the sitting room and makes her curl up on the couch to wait. She even orders her not to move, and it earns the first smile from Gwiboon in hours.
Miraculously, Gwiboon manages to even doze off and is only woken up by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She blinks her eyes open and it’s Hyein, urging her to sit up. There’s a cup of steaming hot tea on the table next to the seat, but she doesn’t even reach for it as she notices Jinki looking at her quite worriedly.
Hyein makes her quiet exit, while Jinki sits down next to Gwiboon and reaches for the injured hand. He unwraps the towel, examines the damage and only then opens his massive medical kit to rummage through it. All of that happens in complete silence, and Gwiboon is starting to feel like a complete fool, so she opens her mouth to explain. “I only wanted some tea, I don’t know what came on to me. I do not tend to be this clumsy.”
Jinki gives her an odd look, doesn’t reply, and only when he’s done bandaging the hand properly he looks up again. By then, Gwiboon is feeling more than a little uncomfortable. “May I speak freely, Mrs. Choi?”
“Of course you can,” Gwiboon hurries to assure. She sighs. “It’s in the middle of the night, I’ve acted like a child and called you from your home. You have no obligation to be formal, nor even polite to me.”
At that, Jinki smiles softly. “I have no desire to be rude to you.” He closes his kit, and finally turns his full attention to Gwiboon. “What upset you so much this happened?”
It’s a question Gwiboon isn’t ready to answer. She knows that Jinki is aware of most of what happens under this roof, but still, putting it into words is another thing. “My husband,” she swallows hard, “was brought to awareness of… certain issues he wasn’t ready to… quite accommodate to.”
“I see.” Jinki nods. “Did he do this?”
“Did he -?” Gwiboon doesn’t even notice she raises her voice, but then quickly lowers it again not to attract any possible attention. “No. He was upset. He is upset. He’s… I don’t know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s coming back. I don’t know if I want him to come back!”
She snaps her mouth shut. She’s said too much. Yet… “I’m scared of him and I know that it’s me who turned him the man he is. I pushed him away and I betrayed his trust with the one person he was supposed to be able to trust forever, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
It feels surprisingly good to let it all out. She knows she’s being vague, but maybe, probably, Jinki knows enough to piece everything together like it’s supposed to be understood. Yet, there’s that silence again and Gwiboon almost falls into another bout of nervous babbling before Jinki speaks up.
“I’m in no position to give advice,” he says softly, “but I can say this: You didn’t turn Changho into anything. He made his own choices, some of them were forced upon him by responsibility, but you didn’t decide any of it. You’re a victim as much as he is.”
“But I-” Again the goddamn tears, Gwiboon blinks stubbornly until they’re subsiding. “I shouldn’t have fallen for her.”
“You can never help who you love,” Jinki almost whispers. “I know it as well as you.” He stands up, ready to leave, and gives Gwiboon one last melancholy smile. “I’m in love with this beautiful, talented woman, who caught my eye the moment I saw her. I thought, for some unfathomable reason she isn’t yet married, and I might ask for her hand.”
He pauses, grabs his bag and turns, halfway. “Turns out, she’s in love. Not only with the one who she gave her heart to first, but also with her beautiful children. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing she can do. We only live on the best we can.”
Gwiboon is so stunned she can’t utter a single word. She stares at Jinki, unblinking, and tries to wrap her mind around the words and their meaning.
“We are caught in this web,” Jinki finishes. “I’m afraid none of us is the spider. We’re all mere flies.”
He leaves without another word. Gwiboon feels like she’s still asleep, none of that could’ve possibly been real. She sits there for hours, until she hears the cook unlock the backdoor and Hyein begin her morning routines. Her tea has gone cold and her palm is still throbbing, but inside she feels like the storm is finally settling.
She feels oddly calm.
It’s almost noon when Minjung arrives back. She’s a little disappointed that Gwiboon isn’t waiting for her at the lobby, but heads straight into the nursery since she knows that’s the next best option. She’s been away only for one night and yet she misses them all, misses her family, and she has spring to her steps all the way.
What she sees at the nursery stops her in her tracks though. The girls are both asleep, she should’ve remembered it’s Miyun’s naptime and for once Minhee seems to be miraculously sleeping at the same time. But instead of getting up and greeting her, Gwiboon stands there by the dresser, looking like a ghost of herself. When Minjung spots the bandaged hand, she downright panics. “Gwiboon! What happened?”
She raises her voice enough to make Miyun stir, but thankfully neither of the girls wake up, and that seems to act as a cue for Gwiboon to practically fly into Minjung’s arms to clutch her as tight as she can. There are tears, even if not as uncontrollable as they might have been the night before. Surprisingly soon Gwiboon has calmed down enough and they sit down, as close as possible on the small loveseat, for her to tell Minjung everything.
There’s a myriad of emotions running through Minjung but Gwiboon clutches her hand so tight she can’t go anywhere, can’t act on any impulse she might have. So she sits, she listens. She hears about the previous night and how everything went down, how Changho still hasn’t appeared back. And when Gwiboon begins talking, she doesn’t stop. Not before she’s certain she’s told Minjung everything she’d ever need to know.
“I used to respect him,” Gwiboon finally sighs, “if nothing more. All he wants from me is a son and I failed him in that, too. I couldn’t even love him.” She’s leaning against Minjung now, her head on Minjung’s shoulder, and it feels like they’re sitting so close together they’re trying to merge into one.
“What do we do?” Minjung asks, the only thing she can think of.
Gwiboon shrugs, lightly. “We keep going. Changho won’t want anything to do with me anymore. Not after all this. We’ll just have to… avoid him. As much as we can while living in the same house.”
“He’s going to send me away, isn’t he? Maybe he even sends you back to your parents.” Minjung’s heart is beating rapidly, with adrenaline, as she’s trying to come up with a possible scenario for the two of them to find each other again, if things go the worst possible way.
“He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s your brother, Minjung. You should know him,” Gwiboon smiles, but there’s nothing happy in it. “The last thing he wants to do is disappoint your parents. He’s going to keep pretending everything is as perfect as it should be for our perfect family in a perfect world. And we’re going to help him keep up that front. It’s the least I can do for him, Minjung. The only thing I can give him.”
“People are still going to talk,” Minjung says. “I don’t want to go, I never do, but I shouldn’t be here.”
“But I want you here!” Gwiboon pulls back, her eyes flashing. “We have created such a mess. It’s impossible to go back from it now, what good would it do if you left? Minjung,” she pauses, completely serious, “you have been there for me more than he ever was. In every way that matters, you’ve always been my husband. Your place is with me.”
Gwiboon knows it’s a selfish thing to ask for. Yet she also knows it’s the very same thing Minjung wishes for. In the eyes of the society, there’s nothing right about this situation, there’s nothing acceptable or redeemable. For them, the only regret is that Changho’s life had to get twisted up into theirs until it cut him to the bone.
To Minjung, this feels like absolution. It’s like a boulder off her shoulders. She leans in and brushes their noses together, ghosts her lips over Gwiboon’s cheek, and rests her forehead into the crook of Gwiboon’s neck.
This is home.
A week later, Changho is still gone. Otherwise, life goes on. Life slips back into its usual flow.
If Gwiboon was to pick the favourite part of her day, she would probably say it’s when they put the children to bed. Sometimes, the girls fall asleep easily in their own room, in their own beds, but sometimes they have troubles letting go of the excess energy from the activities of the day, and they all end up in the room Minjung and Gwiboon share. Minhee is huddled up in a comfortable baby blanket in Gwiboon’s arms, while Miyun gets to cuddle between the grown ups on the large mattress.
Sometimes, Minjung tells them stories. She has read every book she’s gotten her hands on and she remembers all the adventures in them, remembers the fresh feeling of each book as she gets lost in the storyline. It doesn’t even matter what she tells about, Miyun eats up every single word like it’s golden, gazing up at Minjung from adoring eyes. Although Minhee is too little to yet understand the excitement of storytime, she is usually quiet too, listening.
Moments like this fill Gwiboon’s heart with so much joy she never knew it possible. She’s been blessed with so much, she thinks as she brushes over Minhee’s soft tufts of hair, smiles at Minjung faking different voices for the scary witch and the brave little princess. She could keep this forever and be completely content. On the other hand, she is looking forward to the girls being a little older, challenging Minjung’s storytelling abilities with their endless questioning.
Suddenly there’s a quick knock on the door, and Gwiboon exchanges a confused glance with Minjung. There shouldn’t be anyone here at this hour. Their cook finishes early evening, and the maid is free already, probably in her living quarters in the other wing of the house. “Yes?” Gwiboon finally acknowledges the second knock.
The door opens slowly, and Hyein sticks her head in. Her hair is dishevelled, her eyes bleary as if she’d been already sleeping and then awoken suddenly. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Choi, but…” she trails off, before swallowing hard and speaking up again. “Doctor Lee would like to see you downstairs. It’s… urgent.”
She seems distressed so Gwiboon doesn’t question it. Gently, she passes Minhee over to Minjung, giving her a small reassuring smile as she climbs out of bed. She’s in her nightwear already, so she grabs the knitted shawl from the armchair and wraps it around her form. She sends Hyein back to sleep, before heading downstairs to see what the matter is.
As soon as she’s in the middle of the staircase she can see what’s wrong. Jinki is standing there, in the corridor and close to the door, one arm wrapped around Changho’s waist to keep him even moderately upright. They both seem more or less drenched so it must’ve been raining, but that’s obviously not the biggest issue here.
Changho is drunk. He’s barely able to support himself while leaning heavily against Jinki, and his eyes are unfocused when they finally land on Gwiboon. Not a word is exchanged, not before Gwiboon has hurried down the last of the steps and reaches out to help Jinki with his burden. “Oh, what happened? Is he-”
She doesn’t get any further before Changho pries himself off Jinki’s hold and practically falls forward against Gwiboon, so close that the coldness radiating from his wet clothes makes Gwiboon shudder involuntarily. Changho brings a hand up to push Gwiboon’s hair back over her shoulder, the touch lingering for a second.
“Do you know what people are saying?” he hisses, his stale breath hot over Gwiboon’s skin. He’s swaying slightly, getting even closer, and instinctively Gwiboon raises her arms between them to push at his shoulders. “Do you know!?” Changho suddenly yells, so loud it seems to echo off the walls in the otherwise silent house.
That’s when Jinki grabs Changho’s arms and yanks him away from Gwiboon, even if it makes them both stagger a little as they almost lose balance. Both Jinki and Gwiboon are shocked beyond being able to form any coherent reply, but Changho laughs. It’s an eerie sound, the laughter of a mind frayed close to its limits. “They say I can’t even control my wife. That my wife is more a man than I am. They say I am not worthy to be called by the name of my family!”
Gwiboon stands frozen to the ground, her eyes wide. Is this really the man she married? She’s known of his temper, has known of his drinking, but she’s never seen him like this, so driven to the edge. She isn’t even scared, she’s too numb to feel anything at all.
“I was a fool,” Changho goes on, his words less clear one by one, as the rage burns off and leaves behind only his inebriated mind. “I was a fool. Fool. Deceived by a beautiful face. Pity the fool. How I loved you. How I adored you!” He laughs, although it doesn’t sound much like it anymore with how slurred it is, his whole body threatening to fall forward despite the fact that Jinki is holding on to him as best as he can.
Finally, Gwiboon shakes herself out of the trance-like state the whole moment seemed to have progressed in. She inhales deeply, trying to make her voice steady enough to not break. “Put him on the couch,” she instructs. She wraps the shawl tighter around her form, suppressing a shiver from the mere thought of what her marriage has become. She’s spending the family life with her husband’s sister, while the man himself is out there drowning himself in alcohol and paid company.
Gwiboon knows she’s the only one to blame for that. She’s the one who drove her husband away from her, who told him to never touch her again, to never share the marital bed with her again. All because of the demands of her traitorous heart. Maybe if Minjung wasn’t there, if she didn’t live with them… but no, it’s a thought Gwiboon doesn’t even want to consider in passing. She wouldn’t have survived without Minjung.
She might be selfish, she knows that. Yet there is no way she is giving up on the only person she’s ever fallen in love with.
Finally, Jinki manages to get the heavy boots off Changho’s feet, placing them next to the wall. Changho is already passed out, lying on the couch where he landed ungracefully. He still looks angry, even in sleep, as if it’s burning inside of him so strong he can’t let go of it even for a second. His hatred has been festering so long there’s no way out of it anymore.
Jinki follows Gwiboon’s gaze and for a moment, they both stand there side by side watching Changho snore in his drunken stupor. Finally, Jinki places a gentle hand on Gwiboon’s shoulder. “I am so sorry.”
Gwiboon presses her lips to a thin line. Even if she tries to think of what she’s lost, of the failure her marriage has become, her mind keeps on straying to everything she’s gained. She has her daughters, she has Minjung by her side, and in the end, is there anything else she could even hope for?
She places her hand atop Jinki’s, and gives it a small squeeze before stepping back. “No,” she says. “I am not.”
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I really hope you liked it~ :3 And as always, I’d love to hear your thoughts of it!
Next… idk which project will be finished next but right now I’m working on a pretty long school!au and a het!minkey where Minho is a hot car mechanic. So… either of those probably :)
@DW.