By Zephyria 
Eun-ha thought that the moment a human feels the greatest sense of loathing is when they face themselves mirroring the very traits they once despised in someone else.
And the person Eun-ha loathed most—someone whose mere memory sparked an intense sense of revulsion—was his past self.
The Lee Eun-ha of a certain time, who had acted utterly blindly, driven mad by love. He was undoubtedly himself, yet he felt like an incomprehensible stranger, a separate entity.
At the beginning of summer three years ago, after discovering Kim Ji-woon’s infidelity—specifically, the fact that he had a sex partner or a second for over a year—Eun-ha had literally lost his mind.
Not because of the cheating itself, but because of his own irrational decision not to break up with him immediately.
He felt an indescribable amount of hatred, shock, and a sense of betrayal that made his entire body ache, but the idea of breaking up over infidelity was, above all, horrific. It felt like an emotion bordering on shame. After all, he was a person who had given everything and devoted five years of his life.
It felt as if breaking up would be an admission that those past five years were entirely a mistake.
That it had been a foolish and pathetic time. That it was a completely useless waste of time.
Admitting that nothing on the path he had walked was the right answer, and that it was all just a series of wrong turns, felt like carving himself apart.
And, ridiculously enough, even after that disaster, he still had feelings.
He loathed him enough to want to strangle him, yet absurdly, he still loved him.
And, whether it was a blessing or a curse, before Eun-ha stood Kim Ji-woon, kneeling on the floor and shedding tears of apology.
While Eun-ha hated Kim Ji-woon enough to want to kill him, he found himself instinctively swayed by tears he had never seen in five years.
It reached a point where he felt like he was the one who wanted to cry. Glaring at him with reddened eyes, Eun-ha eventually collapsed. His legs gave out, and he slumped down, sobbing uncontrollably and swinging his clenched fists wildly. Kim Ji-woon held the screaming Eun-ha in his arms, constantly whispering that he was sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again. Please trust me just once. I know I’m a piece of shit, but I really have no one but you, you know that. I can’t live without you. I really can’t. That person is nothing. I’ve already ended it…
He still hated him so much and was so irritated, but that desperate atonement felt like some kind of proof. A clue that he wasn’t wrong; a petty piece of stubbornness or pride he wanted to cling to. Or perhaps, something he desperately wanted to believe in.
Yes. It felt like love. He wanted to believe it was. For his own sake. And so, Eun-ha turned a blind eye to Kim Ji-woon’s absurd behavior. Truly foolishly.
Then, he continued a desperate struggle to find justification. This meant spending every day obsessing over Kim Ji-woon and doubting him, under the guise of atonement and restoring trust.
He checked the phone every night, constantly interrogated him about who he was with and what he was doing, and whenever he felt a suspicion, he would cross-examine him down to the atomic level. He had a faint awareness that it was excessive, but he couldn’t live without doing it because of the anxiety. Once trust is shattered, it is impossible to fully restore.
He felt as if the same thing would happen again the moment he took his eyes off him. He felt like Ji-woon was sleeping with some unknown person behind his back, or plotting again with that someone he had seen for over a year.
His irritability became a daily occurrence. Because Kim Ji-woon, knowing his own faults, remained submissive despite this toxicity, Eun-ha let his sensitivity run wild. He vented his wounded heart without restraint. As if it were revenge.
Internally, he constantly chewed on the justification. Hyung did something wrong, so it’s right that he endures this. If he really loves me, he’ll put in that much effort. Keep feeling sorry for me. Beg like a dog until I completely forgive you…
In doing so, he wanted the certainty that the only person Kim Ji-woon truly loved was him. He wanted to prove that his five years had not been a mistake.
And it took barely two months for Kim Ji-woon, who had acted like a complete subordinate, to gradually lose his sincerity until his eyes became like those of a dead fish.
“I’m exhausted, Eun-ha.”
“…”
“I’m so tired of you acting like this.”
“…”
“I’m sick of it, too.”
That was what he said then. That he was exhausted and sick of it. Instead of begging for forgiveness more, he had the audacity to say he was sick of it…
From that point on, almost nothing remained but malice, and they fought every day. They wouldn’t stop blaming each other, their voices rising.
In the end, it was Kim Ji-woon who called it off.
Eun-ha couldn’t understand. He asked if he was done talking, acting bored as usual, but he faltered when Kim Ji-woon didn’t deviate from his calm and composed demeanor. Then, he became frantically anxious.
“…Why are you suddenly like this?”
“Suddenly?”
Eun-ha tried to brush it off as if he’d heard a joke, but at the somewhat cynical response, he felt his heart freeze rapidly.
He tried to answer as if nothing were wrong. I mean, really. Why are you saying that to me? You’re not allowed to do that. Why are we breaking up?
You said you liked me. You said you had no one but me…
Kim Ji-woon was detached. Like someone who had already sorted through his feelings. Like a relationship that had already ended.
Terrified, Eun-ha grabbed the hem of Kim Ji-woon’s clothes. He told him not to do this, his voice trembling unconsciously. Kim Ji-woon stood silently in place and did not answer. As if he were a mere bystander.
Eun-ha became even more agitated. His anxiety grew uncontrollably, and eventually, his face crumpled. It was the moment the power dynamic, which had been reversed for a while, instantly returned to its original place.
He clung to him, crying and unable to think straight, but they broke up anyway. Just as Kim Ji-woon had once begged, Eun-ha even got on his knees, but they still broke up. It ended with him being unilaterally dumped.
After Kim Ji-woon left the house with only the bare minimum of his belongings, Eun-ha, unable to believe it, remained huddled in that house like a ghost for several months with hollow eyes. As he continued a ruined existence, the more he recalled the past, the stranger it was that he couldn’t remember the wrongs Ji-woon had committed; instead, his mind became consumed by the things Ji-woon had pointed out as Eun-ha’s faults. The voice that had criticized and condemned him.
I tried my best. I put in the effort. But Eun-ha, is this right? Is it right to doubt a person every single time, to obsess as if you’re choking the life out of them, and to treat them like a piece of shit?
What more do I have to do? How much more until you’ll believe me? No, no matter how much more I do, can you even believe in me? Do you even love me?
It sounded plausible, but upon reflection, every single word was complete bullshit.
However, at the time, it was true that he felt a pang of guilt. The more he ruminated on it, the more it seemed right. It seemed like a valid argument. That he had pushed too hard. That it must have been difficult. That he had been too harsh to someone who was trying.
Eventually, it felt as if everything was his fault. That the cause and responsibility lay entirely with him.
Because he had been mean. Because he had made Ji-woon sick of him. That was why it ended. That he had ruined the relationship with his own hands. He strangled himself with self-loathing.
Of course, long after he escaped that mire, he objectively realized that wasn’t the case. Kim Ji-woon was a man with a remarkable talent for pretending to be logical while subtly shifting the blame and burdening an innocent person with guilt.
Eun-ha had done nothing wrong in that relationship. He was merely the victim, and Kim Ji-woon was pure scum. He truly believed that.
But the power of the scars etched deep in his consciousness was stronger than imagined, and Eun-ha couldn’t help but flinch at himself for being curious about every little detail of Yeon-jun’s daily life.
Of course, they were completely different people. So different that it felt like an apology was owed to Yeon-jun for even daring to compare them.
Even if the boy found out about this current anxiety, he would never react like Kim Ji-woon.
On the contrary, wouldn’t he openly express happiness? He’d probably say something cute, like how he’s fluttered and happy because Hyung seems to like him so much.
Rather, this was strictly a psychological issue for Eun-ha. He still vividly remembered the look in Kim Ji-woon’s eyes the moment he said he was sick of him. A face that looked exactly like someone who had become completely fed up.
The detached gaze of another person who had reached their limit, with not a shred of will left, remained too deeply imprinted on a corner of his heart. The agony of that time, when he belittled and blamed himself endlessly while chewing on that memory, remained like a trauma.
Just feeling a slight bit of anxiety made him reflexively hesitate. Obsession. Restriction. Doubt. He felt horrified by himself for unconsciously dredging up the habits of a time he considered wretched. It felt as if the sensations of that era were coming back to life.
While he felt anxious from time to time but swallowed it alone, knowing it was an unfair emotion, summer ended. To be precise, September arrived with late-summer weather. This meant that as Yeon-jun returned to school, the time they spent apart increased more than before.