* * *
“Alright. For now, let’s have some tea that’s supposed to help with sleep. Then we’ll try again.”
Unfortunately, Lowell would have another nightmare that night.
The only difference was that, this time— he remembered exactly what he had dreamed of.
The backdrop of the dream was the world he had once lived in—now so unfamiliar that it felt awkward.
Looking down like a detached observer, as if he were experiencing an out-of-body event, Lowell blinked in confusion.
‘I’ve never had a dream this vivid before.’
He was aware that it was a dream, yet he didn’t wake up.
Since he was stuck here anyway, he figured he might as well watch.
As he peered downward, sound was added to the once-silent, black-and-white dream.
—It’s your birthday today. Is there anything you want?
It was Lowell’s mother. No—Eunoh’s mother.
That alone was enough for Lowell to instantly recognize the situation, to understand why this was a nightmare.
It was the clearest, most well-worn memory in Eunoh’s mind.
‘No.’
Lowell felt an overwhelming urge to wake up immediately, to clamp a hand over high schooler Eunoh’s mouth before he could respond.
But a disembodied consciousness could do nothing.
All he could do was endure the pain.
—Hmm… There’s nothing I particularly want. How about we go see a movie together? I’ll skip night study just this once.
—Would that really be enough?
—What do you mean, “enough”?
Eunoh had an unusually close relationship with his parents for a teenage boy.
So much so that people around him often remarked, ‘That family might as well have a daughter instead of a son.’
To that, Eunoh would always reply, ‘What’s the difference between a son and a daughter? Both should treat their parents well.’
‘Treat them well, my ass.’
Lowell gritted his teeth and glared at Eunoh, who was straightening his school uniform.
But the scene suddenly shifted, fast-forwarding through time.
Daylight faded in an instant, and then came a moment worse than any nightmare.
A siren wailed as an ambulance sped past where Eunoh stood, waiting for his parents’ car.
—Why aren’t they here yet?
“Don’t just stand there like an idiot.”
Lowell’s words never reached him.
An hour later, Eunoh finally received a call from the hospital.
His parents, on their way to pick him up, had been in an accident.
—Mom, Dad!
The moment he heard the news, Eunoh jumped into a taxi and raced to the hospital.
But he was already too late.
His parents, hit by a drunk driver in a truck, hadn’t waited for him.
A sharp scent briefly passed by his nose.
The memory was so unbearable that Lowell felt nauseous.
It would have been better not to remember at all.
‘There was a reason I had forgotten this.’
After the funeral, Eunoh returned to an empty home and held his aging dog in his arms.
—Looks like it’s just the two of us now.
The old dog remained still in Eunoh’s embrace, quietly licking his hand.
That was the only comfort Eunoh had left.
—Choco, let’s live together. Just the two of us. Don’t go anywhere else, okay?
Some relatives had offered to take Eunoh in, but none of them were willing to take his dog.
Yet, for Eunoh, Choco was the only family he had left.
So he chose to live alone instead. His aunts promised to visit every week, but that was all.
In the house without his parents, Eunoh clung to his dog and cried for a long, long time.
‘Choco, you have to live a long life. These days, dogs live past twenty, right? You should too.’
Lowell already knew what came next.
If losing his parents had taught Eunoh how devastating unexpected goodbyes could be, then losing his old dog would teach him how cruel an inevitable farewell was.
A month before Choco passed, Eunoh hardly left the house.
If he took his eyes off the dog for even a moment, he felt like he would lose another precious life—like he’d be left alone in the world.
The aging dog sometimes had accidents indoors, sometimes even bit him without recognizing him.
—It’s okay.
Eunoh meant it. He knew it was selfish of him, but as long as Choco stayed alive, he felt like everything would be fine.
But goodbyes always came.
—Choco, are you feeling good today? You ate well, and you went to the bathroom properly too. I hope you’re like this every day.
The dog, who had to be coaxed into eating even a single meal, finished his food without being told that day.
Eunoh showered him with kisses and praise, telling him he was a good boy.
After a short walk in Eunoh’s arms, Choco curled up against his thigh and fell asleep.
—Sleep well.
That was their last goodbye.
When Eunoh woke up, he found Choco lying motionless.
At the funeral, strangely enough, he couldn’t cry.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t sad.
The pain in his chest was unbearable, as if someone had carved a hole into him, and he could barely breathe.
But the tears wouldn’t come.
Maybe, deep down, he knew that even if he cried his heart out, there would be no one left to see it.
So his sorrow stayed locked inside him, silent.
“Stop showing me this.”
The memories he had wanted to forget unfolded before him, attacking the parts of him that had thought he was okay.
In desperation, Lowell tried to recall multiplication tables—something, anything to distract himself—but in a dream, it was useless.
Right now, he wasn’t capable of rational thought.
As many times as Lowell tried to count, the dream continued mercilessly.
It had now reached the time when Eunoh had just entered university.
His partner was a classmate rumored to date people regardless of gender.
—Wanna go out with me?
—Why?
—You’re good-looking, but you seem lonely.
Eunoh didn’t hesitate for long.
—Okay.
There was no way he could suddenly fall for someone just because they confessed.
But the fact that someone had noticed his loneliness gave him a strange sense of release.
He thought that maybe, if he had a partner, some part of this emptiness would disappear.
—Should we break up?
But just like the confession, the breakup came out of nowhere.
They hadn’t fought. Eunoh had even planned their date with care, just as he always did.
Yet, in the middle of their meal, his partner suddenly said those words.
—Why? Did I do something wrong?
Eunoh was startled, but he calmed down faster than he expected.
His partner, as if he had been waiting for that reaction, smiled wryly.
—I thought I could fill your loneliness. But now, I feel like I’ll catch it instead. I did like you, but… not enough to carry that weight with you.
Then, as if to soften the blow, he added:
—You didn’t really like me that much either, right?
—Yeah. If that’s what you want, let’s do that.
It wasn’t entirely true.
He hadn’t loved him with all his heart, but he had at least found comfort in being together.
He had grown attached.
But attachment born from loneliness was fragile.
And Eunoh had simply gotten good at pretending he was fine.
After that, all his relationships followed a similar pattern.
Some breakups were more dramatic than others, but most happened within three or four months.
Their reasons were always the same.
—You’re better from a distance.
—I never feel truly loved by you.
—You couldn’t fulfill me, so I found someone else. Don’t act like it’s all my fault.
“Why does it always end like this?”
Now, Lowell understood the meaning of the words he had murmured in his sleep.
This wasn’t resentment directed at anyone.
It was just a question.
Why did the people he gave his heart to always leave, while the ones he wanted to hold onto abandoned him first?
* * *
