It's Just A Picture (BL)
Chapter 188: The comparison that always broke him

Chapter 188: The comparison that always broke him

(This is a whole Chapter dedicated to Minwoo’s suffering. Don’t cry too much, K? I’m talking to you that gets emotional easily. Yeah, YOU. I won’t call names since you know yourself. Ahem.)

Minwoo never really needed glasses to see. His vision was perfectly okay but he wore them because of a certain insecurity he had.

He felt he would never be as smart as his brother who was lost. And the glasses helped him hide those insecurities.

He once learned that most smart people wore glasses and if you wore glasses, you would be smart as well.

He took the logic from high school and started wearing thick-framed glasses.

He wanted to do better. He wanted to fill the gap that his brother left in terms of academics, and though he ended up getting the best awards and was always placed first, it just never felt right. It never felt enough.

His efforts and achievements were just never enough to fill the gap for two. It wasn’t enough to make his parents acknowledge his efforts.

All they saw was the one that had been ’left behind’ by the smart one. It was painful to hear but he couldn’t complain.

If his brother had been there instead of him, he doubted that his parents would be so half-assed about what was achieved and wouldn’t always compare.

Ah, comparison. Even he had started to compare his achievements with what his brother would’ve achieved if he were there and he found no problem with it, all because of the ones who showered him with nothing but comparison.

And when he looked in the mirror without his glasses, all he could see was his brother, and it made him loathe himself even more.

Yes, he hated so many things about himself that he didn’t know where to begin to explain if he went for therapy. He wouldn’t even be able to speak a word of the things biting and eating at his soul and mind.

He went to therapy once, when he was in his first year of college. He didn’t let his parents know about it because he didn’t want to add to the list of things they compared him with his brother.

If they found out, their response would probably be,

’Why do you need to go to therapy? Can’t you handle it by yourself? It’s your own body, you should know how to handle it better.’ And then, they would sigh disappointedly and say, ’Hah, if it were your brother...’

And just the mention of that would instantly break him.

’... He would’ve found a way to get over his problem on his own and not trouble others.’

Yes, those were the type of words they would say to their son and it kept biting him, along with the conflicting emotions of pain and suffering that wouldn’t leave him alone for a single day.

It was stifling.

Anyway, he went to therapy once. He was about 18 years old then and didn’t look like a kid who had passed through a lot. He was composed, sitting in front of the psychologist with his thick-framed glasses resting on his nose bridge.

He was ready to seek help and hoped he would find it but when he was asked a simple question,

’What seems to be the problem?’

... His lips wouldn’t move. His heart-wrenching pain and suffering could not form into words, and they couldn’t slip out of his mouth either.

He was left to face the pain in his heart and never be able to talk about it. It was torture.

He left the office, never looking back and never returning.

He knew that the only way he could be able to cure that pain and suffering in his heart was if he found his brother and properly apologized.

But soon after he ran away from therapy, he got drunk and slept with a stranger. He never thought of himself as gay. He never even thought of sexual intercourse with anyone, for that matter, and only focused on the pain in his heart.

And then, that was when he realized that he was much lighter at heart than he was before that chance encounter.

Sex was another solution but it wasn’t permanent. Nothing was. But this was the most effective suppressant.

He came to like this suppressant and even indulged more than he should’ve.

It was like a drug. Highly intoxicating and hard to quit, but unlike drugs, this was not harmful to his system, and he always made sure to run tests regularly to avoid catching STDs.

But even then, even with this powerful ’suppressant’ he had discovered, the hole, the painful and heart-wrenching ache in his heart, could not go away.

His guilt would only keep eating at him and he would never be able to free himself from it. Ever.

The only way, the only cure, was to find his brother and apologize. An apology that was long delayed for more than 20 years. An apology that he knew he couldn’t give to the dead. An apology he couldn’t give to Owen.

He felt miserable.

Tears trickled down Minwoo’s closed eyes and he opened his eyes slowly to someone’s gentle patt.

They were already on the plane and he had fallen asleep, but he ended up dreaming about painful things that could make him drown in his sleep.

"Are you okay?" He heard Sungho’s voice and found him standing in front of him, looking surprised. "Are... Are you in pain?"

Minwoo stared at Sungho for a few seconds before his lips curled up.

"Are you worried about me, Mr kitten?" He asked, teasing him.

"I told you not to call me that." Sungho said.

"Why? It’s fun."

Sungho knew Minwoo would just keep teasing him. He could’ve sworn he had never seen him act like that in public. But, well, he already had such a first impression of him, so he wasn’t too surprised knowing what his real personality was.

He sighed.

"Anyway, I asked you a question." Sungho said. "You looked like you were in pain, furrowing your eyebrows and then I saw tears rolling down your cheeks."

"Hm, what would you do if I was indeed in pain?" He asked and stretched his arms out. "It was just a nightmare in broad daylight. If you want to make me feel better, you can start by closing the curtain behind you." He said.

Sungho didn’t know why closing the curtain would make him feel better but he did it anyway, only to turn around and find Minwoo standing right behind him with a smirk.

"And then," he said, grabbing Sungho’s collars to drag his head down. "... You can use your lips."

"Wait, you can’t. What if someone sees?" He said.

"That’s precisely why the curtains are closed."

"But..."

"Relax. It’s just a kiss. You’re the one who wanted to make me feel better so this is the least you can do." He said and planted his lips on his, kissing passionately and quietly.

They were two people broken at heart for two completely different reasons. And they were two people who would comfort each other with the warmth of their bodies.

Whatever result may come from it, in the end, it was just an agreement between them.

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