Delusional Love

For Yoonwoo, meeting people felt like having the protective layers of his heart sanded away. They scratched and clawed at his flaws, leaving him worn down after returning to his room. Yet no matter how much he was criticized and hurt, he couldn’t fix those unsightly parts of himself.

His voice, for example. If only he could change it somehow. Then Jieun wouldn’t be startled and avoid him whenever he spoke.

Where exactly are the vocal cords located in the throat? Is there a way to put something there to change my voice?

As he ate dinner at Hyerim’s house, Yoonwoo could only think about Rabbit. She often felt like the only one on his side, never scratching at his flaws. It was why he wanted to keep things as they were between them.

He knew he was being too self-centered. Unselfish people like Hyerim or Jieun always empathized with others’ perspectives and carried conversations thoughtfully. That was why they had harmonious relationships with others—their compassionate personalities matched their good looks.

In contrast, his heart was closed off and neglected. He constantly second-guessed himself and made mistakes. Unable to properly fix those mistakes, he hurt himself and others.

No matter how hard he thought about what to say, others never seemed to receive his words as he intended. Even when he wracked his brain, he couldn’t put genuine feelings into his words.

This inability made him a fundamentally flawed person, a defective product.

***

“So, drinks with the senior this time? You’re getting popular.”

“She’s just paying me back for the notes.”

Yoonwoo had informed Rabbit about his plans with Jieun, explaining why he might call late the next evening.

“What does she look like? Is she pretty?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. And cute.”

“Last time someone was ‘very pretty,’ now this senior is ‘pretty and cute’? Things have changed for you, huh?”

He had accepted Jieun’s invitation to drink as a way to settle their mutual debts. He couldn’t view it as anything other than transactional. But he was worried that he might again feel Jieun’s disdain for him as he had earlier.

Preoccupied with his concerns, Yoonwoo failed to consider that Rabbit might perceive the situation differently or be upset by it.

That was his mistake.

“So, Tofu, what are you going to do? Who do you like better? The pretty junior or the cute senior?”

“I’ve told you before, Rabbit, you’re the only one I’m interested in. You don’t need to ask questions like that.”

“Huh? Okay…”

“But, I’ve been thinking maybe we shouldn’t meet this Sunday. I should have trusted you instead of whining.”

“Why? You don’t want to meet me anymore?”

“No! It’s just that I’m scared.”

“What do you mean? Do you think I’m scary?”

“Not that you’re scary, Rabbit, but—”

“Tofu!” Rabbit interrupted, her voice sharp. “You know you’re acting weird right now.”

“What’s wrong?”

Her tone mirrored the one she’d used when speaking about her father’s betrayal. Yoonwoo realized he’d deeply upset her.

“So, you’re saying you regularly eat meals with that pretty junior and scheduled drinks with a senior tomorrow, but you’re too scared to meet me after over half a year of talking? How should I take that?”

“No, Rabbit, that’s not what I meant. You’re different.”

“Different,” Rabbit echoed. “Because you think I might not be pretty? Now that you’re hanging out with attractive women in person, you don’t need me?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? Are you worried that I’ll become clingy? You just want me to stay your chatbot?”

“Chatbot? Listen, Rabbit, I—”

“Tofu, I know which school you go to and your real name. Do you think you can treat me like this? Should I just disappear because you’re tired of me?” Rabbit paused. She heard her own angry breaths and, behind that, something else. “Hey, Tofu? Are you crying?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Yoonwoo muttered.

He’d faced criticism impassively before, but Rabbit’s disappointment felt shameful and repulsive. He didn’t want to upset someone as kind as her.

Yoonwoo wondered if things would be this way if someone else were talking with her. If, instead of him, it had been Hyerim or Jieun? For the millionth time, he wished he could be someone else.

“Damn, I can’t think. Don’t cry, Tofu.”

“I’m sorry I said things I didn’t mean. I’m so sorry.”

He felt pathetic and ashamed. He couldn’t explain himself properly, and now Rabbit was angry, and he was crying.

There’s no need to meet on Sunday. She probably hates me already.

“Sorry for getting angry, Tofu. I suddenly lost my temper and didn’t listen to you. What were you trying to say? About why we shouldn’t meet?”

After realizing Yoonwoo was crying, Rabbit immediately tried to comfort him. He felt her compassion but still worried about what she thought of him.

“I’m just scared of not being able to have these calls with you anymore,” he replied.

“Why wouldn’t we be able to call? Is it that thing about me being disappointed when I meet you for the first time?”

“Yeah.”

“I said I won’t be, dummy,” Rabbit said with a soft laugh.

Yoonwoo sighed deeply.

Maybe this call will be our last. I’m sure Rabbit hates me now. She’s probably thinking she doesn’t want to meet such a pathetic guy.

“Tofu, just meet me like we planned on Sunday morning. Then you’ll stop worrying about these things. Tofu?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I yelled. Please, please don’t cry.”

“Yeah.”

“Then see you Sunday, okay? Okay?”

“Okay.”

There was no other answer Yoonwoo could give. The day had been painful. He’d looked forward to talking to Rabbit, hoping she might sing him a playful song. But he’d ruined everything.

As always, he was his own worst enemy.

After the call ended, Yoonwoo forced himself to imagine life without Rabbit. He could soften the blow by anticipating the worst.

In his mind’s eye, he saw himself sitting alone at a Paris Baguette on Sunday morning, glancing between the window and his watch, trying to hold his crumbling heart together. He pictured drifting away from Hyerim and Jieun, back to a life where he barely spoke more than a few words each day.

Whether it was human nature or just his quirk, Yoonwoo sometimes longed to have his grotesque voice heard, even if only a few times a day.

Otherwise, the unspoken words would swirl inside him, gnawing at his heart. Those overwhelming thoughts would swallow reality, leaving him trembling with fear and anxiety. It felt like being trapped in a stomach, never knowing when the acid might spew out.

The only way to quell such fear was to see himself as an inanimate object, to convince himself he wasn’t alive. Maybe that’s why he sought to end it all.

Rabbit was the person most connected to his death but, ironically, also the one who made him feel most alive. Without her, Yoonwoo’s only interaction was muttering a few words to the convenience store clerk.

Before he started going to the gym, his only meal had been a 2,300-won sandwich at lunch. The anxiety had been so intense he never felt hungry.

To escape it, he’d used open chat rooms, searching all day for someone to talk to. He wasn’t born to be loved or deserve attention, but finding someone equally desperate to exchange words with helped him overcome the anxiety. And Rabbit had protected his heart, far more than he’d hoped for.

But without her, could he face Hyerim or Jieun coherently?

He stared at the ceiling, suddenly feeling it descend on him. His hands shook, and he struggled for breath.

What would Hyerim or Jieun think if they saw him like this? What if he vomited from anxiety at Hyerim’s place or in front of them? Terror weighed on his chest, stifling his breath. His heart pounded, and the bed grew damp with sweat. His vision blurred.

It seemed as if everything above was falling, and everything below was surging upward.

With trembling hands, Yoonwoo pulled a pill container from a drawer and swallowed half a Seroquel, known for inducing heavy sleep with minimal side effects. The doctor had advised taking half if the full dose would interfere with daily activities. He’d been collecting those halved pills in an empty container, saving them for days when he was too distressed and needed to sleep.

***

I made a mess of that. Ugh, my damn temper.

Rabbit shuddered with regret after hanging up the phone.

Why the hell did I do that if I was going to make Yoonwoo cry? Am I crazy? Ugh, I have no idea what to do. I feel so sorry for him.

She was too invested. Rabbit hadn’t intended to get angry at Yoonwoo. But her anger had suddenly flared up, and she hadn’t been able to restrain herself from lashing out at him.

She had played the role of Rabbit for too long, and it was becoming a problem.

No… I still have hope.

***

When Friday came around, Jieun skipped the Classical Economics class she shared with Yoonwoo.

Yoonwoo, sorry I overslept. I’ll be there next week!

Don’t worry, I took notes.

As usual, Yoonwoo graciously accepted Jieun’s words without question. However, in reality, Jieun had been fretting since early morning.

Ah, darn it, should I put on some makeup? It might seem odd if I suddenly dress up too much. But I don’t want to appear too casual when it’s just us. Maybe just a hoodie and jeans? But haven’t I been dressing like that around Yoonwoo this whole time? What if he thinks I never change my clothes? Wait. What’s this?

Jieun sniffed her hoodie.

Why does this hoodie smell like beer? Have I smelled like this around Yoonwoo?

She’d thought Hyerim’s comment about her smelling like beer was just a joke, but it wasn’t. Had she smelled like this when Yoonwoo had grabbed her on the stairs?

Ah, shit… I could die from embarrassment.

While rummaging through her wardrobe, Jieun finally decided on skinny jeans, a white cap that suited her bob, and the same hoodie she’d worn to the movies the week before.

Wearing this again is useless. Why do I have no clothes?

The clothes dilemma prompted her to go shopping. It took longer for her than others because of her small stature. Finding clothes that fit was already challenging, let alone ones that suited her style, since most adult clothing stores didn’t cater to people her height.

Luckily, a hoodie usually gave off the vibe of an intentionally oversized fit, which suited her. However, even an oversized hoodie had its limits. She had to be careful not to look like a child wearing ill-fitting adult clothes.

After a morning of shopping, Jieun bought a zip-up hoodie in a pretty two-tone design of white and black at a reasonable price. Buying just one piece of clothing was difficult. It wasn’t due to laziness that Jieun always wore her college department hoodie.

By the time Jieun finished shopping, it was 1 p.m.—Classical Economics had long finished. There was also a message from Hyerim wondering why she hadn’t come for lunch. Jieun texted back, saying she had fallen asleep again and just woken up.

I should have had lunch at Hyerim’s house.

It was ironic that she had prepared all morning to see Yoonwoo and hadn’t seen him.

Is all this fuss just reinforcing my image as an irresponsible and lazy senior?

With these thoughts, Jieun returned home, too exhausted to eat, and fell asleep.

Fortunately, she woke up an hour before their 4 p.m. meetup. Quickly, she showered, applied the light makeup she had planned earlier, and got dressed. After scrutinizing herself in the mirror for a considerable amount of time, she made her way to Anam Station.

However, as she approached the meeting spot, Jieun felt an inexplicable emptiness.

What’s the use of all this fuss? He wasn’t even interested in Hyerim in leggings at the gym.

The chances of him noticing Jieun’s appearance were slim, given that Yoonwoo hadn’t shown any interest in Hyerim when she had confidently displayed her figure at the gym. But, Jieun hadn’t forgotten that time Yoonwoo had mentioned liking Kiki.

There’s always a chance, no matter how small.

“Huh? Noona, you look nice today.”

Jieun smiled. His reaction was better than she had expected. “Do I? Thanks, Yoonwoo.”

“That hoodie suits you.”

“Right? I think so, too,” she said.

Maybe Yoonwoo was just someone who praised anyone who dressed up. But considering he had never complimented Hyerim on her looks or clothes, Jieun felt slightly pleased.

It could have something to do with expectations. Hyerim always dressed up, so he probably had higher expectations for her. Maybe that was why Yoonwoo had never said anything.

Jieun, on the other hand, usually smelled like beer and wore unwashed hoodies, so his expectations for her were probably low. Suddenly wearing new clothes and makeup, she had to look noticeably different. Anyone would notice the sudden change.

Jieun decided she’d definitely wash her hoodie tomorrow.

At 5 p.m., the lamb skewer restaurant was empty except for them.

“Wow, it turns by itself. I thought you had to flip them manually.”

“Is this really your first time seeing this?”

“Yeah, it is,” Yoonwoo said without taking his eyes off the rotating skewers over the hot coals.

He resembled a Golden Retriever eagerly waiting for a treat. Jieun couldn’t help but smile as she watched him. Seeing his almost childlike wonder over a simple skewer machine surprised her. He clearly hadn’t experienced much of the world.

She wanted to see more of these reactions. It would be great if she could be there when he experienced things for the first time.

“Hey, Yoonwoo. Have you ever had a drink one-on-one like this?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Really? Never? You’re a freshman. Not even last semester? So, drinking with me is your first time?”

“Yeah. You’re the first.”

I wonder if he might think of me when he eats lamb skewers in the future.

The thought made Jieun feel unbearably elated. Fortunately, she knew a way to calm her excited heart.

Turning to the owner of the restaurant, she called out, “Another bottle of soju, please!”