its stupid. this is stupid. all of this is stupid. and yet he's doing waht he can to keep whatever small bond they had rekindled, alive. Yi-joon is terrible when it comes to these things, so like he did the first time, he leaves a painting on the counter when he leaves, wrapped.
the painting isn't of them this time ; isn't of brothers ; but he figured he would like something of him and Cheol-min, and that's exactly what was under the wrapping paper.
if he flips the canvas, on the back in small writing, it says "Happy Birthday .... pabo."
and it's not as though he expects anything from his brother, not really. he knew, perhaps all too well, what might have been going through yi-joon's mind when he spots the gift on his kitchen counter, not unlike his last birthday. he knows all too well, because his feelings were much the same.
birthdays, in the choi household at least, were never a celebration āāā not really. to save face, for publicity, of course. both brothers had been celebrated ; galas, private parties upon rooftop bars that both were far too young to attend and far too young to enjoy properly. their parents had always presented them as trophies ( yi-joon moreso, he thinks, because his parents had tossed jiyong far off to the side long before he'd run away from home ) but behind closed doors it had always been a different story.
the gifts were for show, so that their parents could be showered in praise for just how well they looked after their children. any affection shown was little more than a token gesture, a photo opportunity for the two entrepreneurs they called mother and father. anything to look good in front of their friends, anything to look better for the press. but when the music had died down, when guests had left and all else had been forgotten, a birthday was little more than a reminder of all they'd yet to accomplish by a certain age.
when i was your age, i'd already made my first million.
i was younger when i made my first sale, what have you done with your life ?
at this rate, jiyong, we'd be better off sending you away and telling everyone you'd died. at least then we wouldn't have to live with the shame and disappoint that comes with having brought you into this world.
birthdays since then, of course, held little value. for most of them since, yi-joon hadn't even been in his life ( aside from the few times where jiyong had called him while drunk, desperate for approval from the only one in his family that he had ever cared about ) but times had changed, hadn't they ? yi-joon, though still rough around the edges, though he was fucking annoying at times, had a good heart. he cared, probably more than he'd ever want to admit and this painting ; delicate strokes that blended together to create the perfect portrait of jiyong and cheol-min, was proof of that.
words did not come easy to either brother, kind words āāā appreciative words even less so. because how could you talk to someone in a way that you had never experienced first hand ? how could you articulate just how much you appreciated the time and effort someone had put into something, the thought behind it, the fact that they were even in your life in the first place, when such a concept was so foreign to you ?
cheol-min had spoken to him about being more open and honest with his brother ; but such a task was easier said than done. sometimes, he worries that it's all a sick joke, that the moment he lets his walls down, he'll find out that yi-joon didn't want him in his life. he worries that vulnerability, building a proper relationship with his brother would only end in ruin āāā so why bother getting too close ? but with age, with time, jiyong had seen the subtle changes in his brother āāā the young man he'd grown into, flourishing finally, now that he was free from their parents.
jiyong would always harbor guilt for leaving his brother behind, he'd carry it until the day he died. but there were ways, he thinks, that he can try and make up for it now. it would never be enough in his eyes, but even if it's something small, he wants to do it. he wants to be a brother that yi-joon can be proud of and, more importantly, trust.
so, as he stares down at the painting, a soft smile on his face, he calls his brother āāā knowing full well why he'd left it there without hanging around but hey, if yi-joon thought he was giving a gift like this without a thank you, he was dead wrong. " hey ... yeah i just got home. you paint this ? no, no i love it. it's really good. got a special place for it in mind already āāā min's gonna lose his mind when he sees this ... huh ? check the back ? what for āāā ? "
" pabo ? pabo ? really ? real fucking mature āāā you little shit. no, turn your fucking car around and get over here. i just want to talk āāā fuck you ! "