Page 19 of Scarbound

Another voice, muffled but unmistakable, reached him. Duri’s.

“A whole year, hyung?”

Heat rushed through Noeul, shame and irritation tangled together. Why did Duri have to hear this?

“It’s not that simple,” he snapped. “This doesn’t just get easier with time.”

“We know,” Ji-Woo said angrily. “It might help if you didn’t push everyone away.”

“Shut up, brat. What do you know? Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

His mother’s voice was soft and steady. “We understand. We just want you to know we’re here whenever you need us.”

Noeul closed his eyes. “Thank you, Mom.”

“And son,” his father added. “We love you.”

“I love you too, Dad. I love you all.”

He ended the call and let the phone fall onto the couch beside him. The apartment sank back into silence.

After the call, he tried to distract himself by drawing. Page after page filled with dark, violent sketches, nothing like his usual fantasy creatures. By noon, he snapped the sketchbook shut.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey. The memories flooded his mind with every sip. Gong’s infectious laughter. Their childhood games. Their first fight. Gong’s change. The day his world collapsed. He snapped. He threw whatever he could reach, desperate to break something. Anything. Eventually, he collapsed onto the floor.

By the time exhaustion overtook him, Noeul had already formed a plan. He curled up beside the empty whiskey bottle. When sleep finally came, it was restless.

On Monday morning, he had to force himself to vomit and swallow painkillers just to make it to work. He hunched over his computer, his fingers moving across the keyboard with mechanical precision.

A tap on his shoulder made him flinch. He looked up to see Kristie from the red team watching him with concern.

“Noeul, are you okay?” she asked. “You seem… distant. And a bit rough.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Just tired,” he muttered.

Kristie didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You look like you need a nap and a triple espresso. Rough night?”

“Nothing serious,” he said, managing a brief smile. “Family stuff.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate.”

Noeul nodded and turned back to his screen.

Every evening after work, Noeul drank. By Thursday, his manager called him into his office.

“Noeul, can we talk for a moment?”

“Of course.”

The door closed behind them.

“Please, sit.”

Noeul sat straight-backed.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately,” Mr. Anderson said. “You seem tired. And honestly… a bit down.”

Noeul opened his mouth to deny it, but the words died there. “It’s nothing serious,” he murmured.