The room was brightly lit, the ceiling lights emitting a pulsing white ambience throughout the space. Machines were everywhere, littering the space around the only bed occupying the room. The air was suffocating, as is often the case in a hospital.
I can't believe that I'm going through with this.
Ryu Jinsang was lying on the hospital bed, his back propped up by the white pillow. His eyes were glued to the phone screen in his hand, a deep frown was etched on his face, giving the impression of pure concentration. He was wearing a hospital robe, his hair messy and unkempt, making him look less than perfect, unlike his usual self.
Mr Ryu starts forward with a big but stiff smile on his face and his arms outstretched, ready to embrace his son.
"My son! How are you?" He asks brightly, happy to see this excuse of a human being. It makes me wonder whether I am the only one with just a tiny bit of conscience in me.
Ryu Jinsang looks up from his screen, his face brightening slightly but hesitantly when he hears his father's voice. The smile on his face drops almost comically when his gaze lands on me, shock flitting through his eyes as wide as saucers.
"Look, son," Ryu Myung says, his voice full of delight. "I brought your friend here. He said you used to go to school together! Why didn't you tell me that the rising star Seo Chungae went to the same school as you?"
I paste a stiff smile on my face when the older man looks my way, while I keep my gaze trained on my enemy. If he's shocked out of his socks, then he's doing a great job hiding it. If that's the case, then he's a great actor. But if he's not...
I hope it's the latter. No explanations needed.
"Hey..." I mutter awkwardly, internally wincing at my awkwardness. My acting skills seem to have failed me this time, and that's no small feat.
"Hey," he almost growls out, but his father doesn't notice the hostility in his voice. Instead, the older man claps his hands in delight and perches on the corner of his son's hospital bed, all the while I try not to look too terrified under his son's gaze that's as sharp as a hawk's. I hate how I still find myself cowering because of Ryu Jinsang. That ururly, unworthy bastard.
"So, son," Ryu Myung says, his words bright but holding an undertone of dark malice in them. The meaning they convey is clear to anyone paying attention. "How bad are your injuries?"
The hidden message doesn't go unnoticed by Ryu Jinsang, who tries not to flinch under his father's gaze. It feels like I'm intruding on a private conversation, but I haven't been asked to leave yet, so I won't. If I can, I will listen to whatever I can to learn about Jinsang. Maybe there's a reason he used to bully me in high school...
No. Who am I kidding? There is no excuse for bullying. I should stop thinking otherwise. Someone like Ryu Jinsang would never change. That ''fateful'' day of our reunion proved that.
I hate him. I shouldn't be looking for excuses to forgive filth like him.
"Not too bad," Ryu Jinsang tries for a casual tone. "The doctor says I should be resting till tomorrow morning at the latest. I might be able to start work tomorrow; I'm healing really well, you know."
That remark hit me like a punch to the gut—just like it was intended to. Jinsang is staring at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk. He knows how much the idea of working with him bothers me. He must be having fun poking at me with his sharp, sly words.
"Great!" Ryu Myung exclaims, the sudden change in tone almost startling me. "You still have a chance to grasp your role. I'm counting on you to make this work, Jinsang. You better not disappoint me."
Ryu Jinsang nods heavily. He seemed...tamed, under his father's presence, almost like a trained dog. It's a sight I thought I'd never see. He merely stares at his hands, slightly fisted in his lap, not daring to look up and meet his father's eyes. I wonder why that is.
But once again, I was mistaken.
Ryu Jinsang looks up at his father, his head held up with a confident bravado I was not expecting to see. Now, he seems almost at ease talking to his father, like the two are as close as can be.
"I never do, Father. Have I ever done anything to disappoint you?"
Ryu Myung doesn't seem bothered by his son's sudden change in attitude and instead nods lightly, as if Ryu Jinsang's words make sense.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," he says thoughtfully. "Very well then, I expect you to be at work tomorrow. I'll give the director a call just to make sure you're not slacking off." With a hearty laugh and those as his parting words, he walks out of the room without even sparing me a glance.
I suppose he thinks Jinsang might make it higher than me, which is why he doesn't want to give his attention to someone who might be considered "old news" by the time we're done with the movie.
I'm left standing in the room, puzzled over the confusing conversation I just bore witness to. Old Ryu's mood swings and abrupt changes in expression left me feeling uneasy. If the father has such good control over his facial features, then I wonder about the son.
They say the offspring are always better than the parent.
I'm doomed if that's the case. That snobby saying has been circulating through the industry's air for as long as I can remember. I had always thought it true, considering how my parents were horrible actors.
I shiver at the thought of them. Even after years, they still have control over my head. Partial, but still there regardless. They keep finding ways to sneak past the mental barriers I put up to keep all the trauma at bay.
Ryu Jinsang gives me the stink-eye when his father leaves, breaking me out of my thoughts. The sudden gloominess I felt instantly vanishes at the sight of his face, his disdain for me written all over his face in clear, sharp lines.
I scowl back, dropping the act of the concerned friend. In this hospital room, where it's just us, we don't have to pretend to like each other. And for someone of Jinsang's status, there's not one security camera in the room that could capture a second of the words about to be spoken.
"Why are you here?" Jinsang says snarkily, picking up his phone from his blanket and turning his gaze to the screen. The fact that he deems me unworthy of his serpentine gaze makes my blood rise in anger. This is the sort of behaviour he showed in school whenever I tried to talk to him about projects the teachers assigned to us. It was the only time he pretended I didn't exist, and even then, free from his bullying, I hated the manner with which he treated me. I hated that he ignored me at times I needed him, and turned to me when I wanted nothing to do with him.
"What do you think?" I retort with an eye roll. I stride towards the table where his lamp and charger rest, and drop the basket of fruit there, knocking the pristine lamp off its foot. The sudden noise finally has the brute looking up from his screen and turning his cold gaze to me.
"I think you're here because you missed me," he smirks teasingly, in a way that seems more mocking than friendly. I have to fight the urge to keep my hands from flying to his face and leaving a visible red mark there. That wouldn't look good on my part.
"Well, think again." I cross my arms over my chest as I glare down at the blond man on the bed. It's like nothing changed after years, and it bothers me. One of us hasn't changed at all, while the other is just the ghost of the person he used to be.
I remain silent for a moment, having an internal battle with myself. There is something I have to ask, but I don't know when. The words almost spill out of me, but I bite them back. I had been looking for the right moment to ask the question, and saying it too quickly might make me seem desperate.
With a sigh, I decide to let it out. Who cares what he thinks? Curiosity hurts nobody.
"You're not really hurt, are you?" My eyes narrow a fraction to emphasise my suspicion. Jinsang is a good fighter; I've seen him fight an older, buffer guy in an alleyway after school one day. There's no way he couldn't have defended himself from the assaulters yesterday.
"I don't know what you mean." His face remains impassive, but the amused gleam in his eye gives him away.
"Well, your little act did me more good than it did you, anyway." I huff out as I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Did he orchestrate that encounter just to embarrass me?
"Oh, but internally you're seething, I can tell." How I wish I could punch that smug look off his face. "Don't think for a moment I forgot how easily it is to embarrass you. Even changing in the boys' locker room had you looking like an expired tomato."
"I do not look like an expired tomato!" I exclaim as I feel my face betray me. After graduating from high school, I had hoped that my classmates would forget everything about me—or just forget me in general. Realising that Jinsang remembers me and every embarrassing detail of my school life is like a nightmare come to life.
Jinsang props his chin on his hands, elbows resting on his legs covered by the white blanket. Sticking out his finger, he points at me. "Uh, yeah, you do."
His blunt response has me biting back a few scathing remarks that would certainly show him his place. But I can't lose my cool in front of him at any cost. That's what he wants.
Unfortunately, he seems to notice the battle waging within me and smiles in satisfaction.
"If there's one thing that's changed, it's how sassy you've become. It's almost cute."
Cute.
That word confuses my system, and I no longer know whether to be mad or flabbergasted. Before I have a chance to control myself, my brows furrow and my lips part in a confused scowl, giving my enemy more leverage to pick on.
He snickers behind his hand, a poor attempt at trying to seem sensible about someone's dignity. It's so obvious he doesn't care about mine.
"You shameless little—" I let loose a torrent of colourful words best used to describe the arrogant man on the hospital bed—I couldn't hold back anymore. I came here to flaunt my victory in front of him, not the other way around.
Unfortunately, it looks like my words are going through one ear and out of the other.
What was I expecting from him?
I take a deep breath, giving myself a moment before schooling my face into a stoic mask.
"I'll see you at the set tomorrow," I say with an air of finality before moving towards the door.
How I wish Jinsang were hurt enough to stay at the hospital for at least a week.