As Euan rushed back to the villa, his vision blurred with tears that fell faster than he could wipe them away. It was as if the world around him was crumbling, the weight of an unnamed sorrow bearing down on him. He burst through the villa doors and bolted up the stairs to the second floor, his heart pounding, his mind swirling in confusion. Once inside his room, he slammed the door shut, collapsing onto the bed, his trembling body folding in on itself. He yanked the blanket over his head, as though it might shield him from the relentless storm raging within.
His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he buried his face into the pillow, his tears soaking the fabric. An endless stream of questions circled his mind, each one compounding his anxiety. The dull, throbbing ache at his temples wouldn't let up, and the more he tried to calm himself, the more insistent the blurry fragments of memory became. Faint images flashed in his mind—faces, laughter, fleeting glimpses of warmth. They were so close, yet painfully out of reach. He clenched his eyes shut, willing the chaos to stop, hoping for a reprieve through sleep.
But the tears continued, each one spilling out the unspoken ache within him, and slowly, exhaustion took hold. His breathing grew steadier, though the dampness on his cheeks remained. Finally, he drifted into a fitful sleep, his body tense even in slumber.
In his dreams, the past began to take shape—a memory he hadn't realized he'd buried.
"This is Ji-Won," a voice spoke, the figure indistinct, but the tone warm and familiar. "From now on, he'll be living with us. He's my friend's child, and he doesn't have anyone else to look after him. Can you be kind to him, as his Hyung?"
The scenes shifted, hazy and fragmented. Ji-Won's small hands carefully sketching a drawing, his cheeks flushed with shyness. Youn-Jae's voice cut through, soft yet filled with admiration.
"Whoooa! This is really nice, Ji-Won. You have golden hands! Wait… is this you and me?"
Ji-Won blushed, nodding shyly. In the dream, the figures on the page were unclear, but their bond was unmistakable. Youn-Jae's praise radiated warmth, leaving a distant yet familiar sense of acceptance.
Another memory surfaced, bittersweet.
"Are you happy to have someone now? I know you must still be sad about your mother."
Even in his dream, Ji-Won's face shadowed with sorrow at the mention of his mother. But Youn-Jae's gentle voice wrapped around him like a promise, comforting in a way that felt both fleeting and enduring.
"Stay here, when I get back, I promise we'll go to the beach with Mother. You like that, right?"
Those words echoed, lingering in the dream like a fading melody, and then, as if shattering glass, they broke through.
Euan's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as if he'd been drowning and had just broken the surface. Cold sweat clung to his skin, his sheets twisted and damp around him. He lay still, paralyzed by the ache, his mind suspended between past and present, dream and reality.
The dim light in the room cast heavy shadows, and each one seemed to press closer, closing in on him. But it wasn't the darkness around him that felt suffocating—it was the memories, the faint, yet visceral imprints of Youn-Jae's voice, the blurry fragments of a childhood long forgotten, and the boy he once was.
His heart thundered painfully, the echo of Youn-Jae's promise—to go to the beach—repeating in his head. He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead, fingers grazing his tear-streaked skin.
He slowly sat up, peeling away the blanket, his body sore as if he'd been running a marathon in his sleep. Hunched over, his head in his hands, he let out a long, shaky breath. The fragments from his past collided messily with his present, each piece tinged with a confusion he couldn't fully understand.
"Why does my dream feel so familiar... and real?" he whispered to the emptiness, his voice thick with pain. "Why does it hurt so much?"
Just then, Fruitcake's barking pierced through the silence, jarring him from his spiral. Blinking, he forced himself up, wiping his damp face, hoping to mask the storm that raged beneath the surface. Slowly, he opened his door and stepped into the hallway, schooling his expression into neutrality.
He descended the stairs to find Fruitcake barking wildly at the main door. The reason quickly became clear—James had returned, and Fruitcake had sensed his arrival before he even entered. The dog's barks turned to excited yips as James finally stepped inside.
"You're back," Euan greeted, his tone calm, though he was still miles away in his thoughts. He watched as James slipped off his shoes and replaced them with his slippers.
"Yeah, how've things been here?" James asked as he removed his coat, glancing at Euan with a curious smile.
Euan swallowed, trying to appear unruffled. "All good. I just stayed here all day," he replied, settling onto the couch, forcing himself to look at ease.
James chuckled, setting his car keys on the counter. "Must've been a long day then." He grinned, hoisting a suitcase with a dramatic flourish. "Tada! I got your luggage."
Euan glanced at the suitcase, giving a small nod. "Oh, thanks." His voice was steady, but lacking its usual spark.
James gave him a searching look, then sat beside him on the couch. "You're not excited to get your stuff back?" he asked, nudging him lightly. "Something on your mind?"
"Nothing." Euan forced a faint smile. "I just woke up when you got back."
James playfully ruffled Fruitcake's fur as the dog nestled beside him. "Did Fruitcake wake you with his barking?" he teased lightly.
Euan mustered a casual smile, but his thoughts remained elsewhere. As James laughed and chatted, Euan's mind drifted back to the dream and the aching remnants of what he couldn't fully remember.
"I'll change real quick and then get dinner ready for us," James said with a chuckle, giving Fruitcake a final scratch before heading toward the stairs. "Maybe you can take Fruitcake for a walk in the meantime," he suggested with a soft smile before disappearing upstairs.
Left alone, Euan slumped back into the couch, his fingers brushing over his mouth as he bit at his nails—an anxious habit he couldn't shake.
A sudden ring startled him, and he glanced at his phone, sighing before picking it up. It was Andrew. He brought the phone to his ear, his voice subdued.
"Hello?"
Andrew's voice came through, warm but tinged with concern as he noticed the pale tone in Euan's voice, stripped of its usual warmth. "Euan, did something happen?"
"No… nothing," Euan replied, trying to sound casual. "James just got back, that's all."
"Oh, he texted me," Andrew said cheerfully, but his tone softened. "Are you sure you're okay? You sound... off."
Euan's gaze drifted to the terrace, his chest tightening as he stared out at the ocean stretching endlessly before him. "Yeah. I'm just... not really in the mood, I guess."
Andrew hesitated, his voice softening further. "You miss me already?" he asked, a teasing warmth in his words.
"Yeah… when will you be back?" Euan's voice was barely a whisper, vulnerability seeping through. "I guess… I really missed you."
After a short pause, Andrew replied with a hint of promise, "I'll try to finish work soon so we can hang out. I miss you. And... I love you."
Euan swallowed, feeling the weight of those words hang heavy in the air. For the first time, they felt distant, almost foreign. He forced a shaky breath. "I… I miss you too. Love you."
When the call ended, Euan sank back, the heaviness pressing down on him once again, leaving him alone with the aching remnants of a dream he couldn't quite leave behind.
The story doesn't end here...
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