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“It’s the opposite. It’s so I can remember.”
“Isn’t that the same difference?” Yoonshin asked.
“I’ve earned enough wealth and honor, and life is liveable. I forget him sometimes. I deliberately forget how shitty of a life I led up to now because now, I have many things to remember and think about. So, before the new year starts again, I always remind myself here: ‘Right, I came this far after a childhood like that. Let’s not forget.’”
“Let’s not forget.” To Yoonshin, the phrase sounded like a mantra for programming Sehun himself to not grow any weaker.
All this time, Sehun had no one else to rely on but the unrelated boy who was placed in a similar situation to him. As time passed, he met benefactors like Mihee. Even more time flew by, and Sehun met others like Secretary Tak, who saw him with compassionate eyes. Yet even in the end, the only one Sehun could emotionally depend on was his childhood friend who had already passed away.
Although these fond memories spurred him on in life, the subject no longer existed in this world—consequently, his friend couldn’t become Sehun’s weakness.
Yoonshin could finally catch the strings as to why Sehun Kang could only be a coward. Compared to the older man, Yoonshin had lived a smooth and untroubled childhood, so as an adult with that background, Yoonshin couldn’t understand perfectly how Sehun felt. One could only understand what one had experienced. Everything else was but imitation.
Still, Yoonshin wanted to console Sehun in whatever way he could.
He rubbed at the other’s long and firm fingers, then he slowly said, “They say the water always flows back to where it first started.”
Sehun didn’t reply. However, Yoonshin knew that he was listening more intently than ever before. “Just as you came here every year, he would have always returned. If you were lucky, perhaps your paths crossed once.”
Wordlessly, Sehun tilted his head. Yoonshin angled his head in the opposite direction and exchanged glances with Sehun as he continued, “Do you still hate when there is no cause to the effect? It doesn’t hurt to think positively. Especially in cases like these where there is no correct answer.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding something, but those who have already died and disappeared have no power. I didn’t come here because I missed him so much that it hurt. I visited to wrap up my year and reaffirm my resolutions,” Sehun responded.
“You’re saying that your life isn’t so easy or smooth-sailing that you have to reaffirm your heart regularly. You also find it hard to carry on. You’re surrounded by the enemy, you’re stacked with work, and you can’t trust people so easily. You’re actually very bitter and lonely, aren’t you?”
“…”
“But isn’t it all right now that you have me?”
Sehun’s brows wrinkled, at a loss for words. Yoonshin pulled up the corner of his lips, smiling for the two of them, and created a smooth and gentle curve. Eventually, Sehun let out air and chuckled in defeat. “I had a feeling you’d prattle on if I brought you along.”
Sehun lightly flicked Yoonshin’s forehead then pulled his body away. He cast a brief glance at the water, then he headed back to his car, which was parked at the embankment of the river. One thing was different from when they arrived—it was a very subtle difference, but Sehun looked more relaxed than before.
Yoonshin pondered whether this change was because of him or not, then he chased after the older lawyer.