Simba
Title: Simba
Fandom: ZE:A
Characters: Siwan & Hee-cheol
Rating: PG
Word count: 3,500
Summary: When Hee-cheol's cat goes missing someone has to pay.
Siwan was rereading his script on the day that Hee-cheol brought Simba home. Even though he had been sitting alone in his bedroom, he could somehow sense trouble coming from outside the door. He could hear Hee-cheol talking to someone, and he couldn’t help but be distracted by the strange comments he was making.
“Are you a girl or a boy?” he heard Hee-cheol say. He hoped that Hee-cheol hadn’t brought home some random person he had met on the internet. He went on: “I can’t tell, even though you’re naked. What happened to your hair? It looks like you have a bald patch...”
At last Siwan threw down the script and went to investigate. He found Hee-cheol crouched on the floor of the living room. In his hand he was holding a kitten.
“Where did you find that?” Siwan asked.
“I found it hiding in the train station. I think it might be sick, since it’s missing some of its hair.”
Siwan leaned in closer to get a look at the cat. Its hair was a mottled black and brown and he could see little bugs crawling across its face. “I think it has fleas. You should take it away.”
“I’ll take it to the vet.”
“Whatever, just get rid of it.”
Hee-cheol left with the kitten cupped against his breast and Siwan went back to reading the script. After some time he started to wonder if the vet would have the kitten put down. If that was the case, he dreaded Hee-cheol’s reaction. Hee-cheol had a way of feeling things deeply and he could be difficult to deal with when he was in a bad mood.
When Hee-cheol came back he had the cat still with him. He was in a good mood.
“The vet said that he’s a boy,” Hee-cheol told Siwan, who wasn’t particularly interested. He held the cat up in the air in a ceremonial manner. “So I decided to name him Simba.”
“Because of The Lion King?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
Siwan put down his script and scratched his head. “Wait, does this mean you’re planning on keeping it?”
“Of course.”
“No, wait. You should ask me first. I have to live here too. I mean, look at it, it has fleas.”
Hee-cheol gave Siwan a dark look. “Are you suggesting that I just throw him out? Simba needs somebody to love him. Besides, the vet gave me some medicine for the fleas.”
“Okay, just don’t let it bother me. I have to get ready for the audition on Wednesday.”
Siwan waved the script around to illustrate the point and Hee-cheol frowned. “The audition? You mean the one for The Maltese Falcon? Are you going for the lead role?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Hee-cheol nodded gravely. “I guess I’ll see you there then.”
Siwan rolled his eyes. “Are you auditioning too?” Siwan and Hee-cheol were attending the same drama school and they often competed for the same roles. Siwan was the one that usually ended up getting them.
“I might get an understudy role.” He suddenly cried out as the cat bit his hand. “Simba, don’t bite! I’m your daddy, you can’t bite me.”
Siwan chuckled. “Good luck with that.” He was referring to both the cat and the audition.
* * *
When Simba had arrived, he was three weeks old and before long he was six. The medication had helped to eradicate the fleas, but Hee-cheol was still in the process of housetraining him.
“You know, I think I now understand the feelings that my mother had when I was born,” Hee-cheol said as he petted the kitten. He was lying face up on the living room floor and the cat was curled up on his stomach.
“I still think the vet should have had it put down,” Siwan said. “All it ever does it whine and piss everywhere.”
Hee-cheol looked up at him sincerely. “Only a heartless person would want to kill such an innocent kitten. How will you ever become a great actor if you don’t feel any deep emotions?”
“I do feel deep emotions. Just not ones about bratty little feral cats. Besides, I’m rehearsing for the role of a hardboiled detective and he doesn’t have strong emotions.”
“That’s what you think,” Hee-cheol replied somewhat cryptically and Siwan sighed.
Siwan and Hee-cheol had been living together for almost two years. Two years ago they had come together to the city in order to study at the national drama school. They had both come from far away and in the beginning it was hard adjusting to the new place. Back then they had been close, and Hee-cheol had stuck to Siwan like a little brother. In recent times they had not been so close. Siwan thought that this might be because Hee-cheol had become more competitive about his acting career. Just a week ago when Siwan had been cast as Sam Spade in the upcoming stage production of The Maltese Falcon, Hee-cheol had been made the understudy, and no doubt he was bitter about this. Whenever they were rehearsing together, Hee-cheol would find ways to give unnecessary instructions to Siwan’s acting, which was immensely annoying.
“Don’t forget which one of us is the understudy here,” Siwan told him, then felt a bit guilty, since he didn’t mean to make Hee-cheol feel inferior.
“Don’t worry, I will practice my part well. And you never know, something bad might happen to you before the performance, and I would have to be prepared.”
Such comments about “something bad” happening to Siwan before a performance might have been interpreted as a threat, but Siwan was never worried. He knew that Hee-cheol’s crippling inferiority complex was too strong to make him do “something bad”, and besides, for all his shortcomings Hee-cheol wasn’t the evil type.
* * *
As it so happened, something did go wrong on the day of the first performance. Siwan woke up with his face and body covered in red patches. He went straight to the doctor, who examined him and said, “Hmm, it looks like some kind of allergy. Have you had any contact with cats or dogs recently?”
“Yes, yes I have,” he said and in his mind he blamed Hee-cheol.
“Your wish came true,” he told Hee-cheol when he got home. “You’ll have to play the part of Sam tonight. I hope you’re happy.”
Hee-cheol looked surprised, but he did not look happy. In fact, he looked frightened by the thought of stepping up to the role. “Are you sure you can’t do it? It’s only some red marks.”
Siwan took one more look at Hee-cheol standing there in his pyjamas, eating cereal straight from the box, and it occurred to him that Hee-cheol might not be ready to play such a major role. This thought comforted him somewhat, and he gave Hee-cheol a slap on the shoulder as he walked past. “Break a leg,” he said.
* * *
That night Hee-cheol actually did rather well in the performance. Siwan watched most of it from the wings, and only a couple of times he noted Hee-cheol forgetting his lines. The other actors were full of praise for Hee-cheol, and Siwan suspected that they were only being nice because Hee-cheol was an understudy and he had been called up at last minute.
Hee-cheol was insufferably cocky on the way home, but his mood changed when he noticed that it was raining. There was thunder, and the rain was especially heavy. “Simba will be scared,” he said. “He doesn’t like stormy weather.”
“Maybe he’ll hide under a couch or something,” Siwan said. He could have cared less about Simba if he tried.
“Honestly, I think you need to get rid of that cat,” Siwan continued when they were home. They were getting changed because they were going to a friend’s birthday party. “It’s too much trouble for you to handle, and it’s giving me allergies. You should probably find a nice family for him.”
Hee-cheol glared at him with piercing eyes. “You have no idea how much Simba means to me. He’s like a member of my own family. How could I possibly give him away?”
Just as they were leaving for the party Hee-cheol spoke again. “Anyway, I think I know why you’re saying this. I think you might be a bit jealous of me...”
Siwan choked on his own laughter. “Jealous of you? What do you mean?”
“Because I acted well in your role tonight.”
“Hee-cheol give me a break. You’re a deadbeat who spends all his time eating ramyun and playing computer games. You’re barely scraping through school and you can’t even get a lead role for yourself. No one in their right mind would be jealous of you.”
Hee-cheol went silent for a moment and Siwan thought that he might have been too harsh. But after a moment of looking glum, his face brightened up again and he said, “...but all the girls dig me!”
Siwan rolled his eyes. He checked his shirt suddenly after sensing a suspicious smell, and confirmed his initial fear. He sighed with exhaustion. “I think Simba might have peed on this. I’ll have to go back and change. Tell Minwoo I’ll be over a little later.”
Hee-cheol nodded, and left for the party on his own.
* * *
Siwan came home late that night and went straight to bed. Not long after falling asleep, Hee-cheol shook him awake again.
“What is it?”
Hee-cheol was leaning over him and looking wild and distressed. “It’s Simba. He’s missing, I can’t find him anywhere.”
That damn cat again. Siwan climbed out of bed and helped Hee-cheol look for Simba. Siwan turned over a few cushions as Hee-cheol crawled under the chairs.
“Simba, Simba!” he called.
Siwan yawned. “He’ll turn up later. He’s probably just hiding because of the storm.”
Hee-cheol ignored him. He contemplated the front door. “What if he accidentally got let out? He could be outside...”
“He’s not going to be outside in the rain. Cat’s hate the rain.” Siwan sighed as he watched Hee-cheol put his shoes on and leave the house. He hoped that Hee-cheol wouldn’t annoy the neighbours too much with his search, but he decided that it was out of his hands now. He went back to bed.
* * *
The next morning Siwan found Hee-cheol sitting at the kitchen table, looking grimmer than he’d ever seen him before. He was wearing the same clothes as the previous day and Siwan wondered whether he’d even slept at all. He was staring straight ahead and he did not acknowledge Siwan coming in.
“Did you find Simba?”
Hee-cheol didn’t bother replying and Siwan thought that was probably fair enough; the answer was self-evident.
“When you came home yesterday,” Hee-cheol asked, his voice in a monotone, “you came back to change your shirt. Did you see Simba then?”
Siwan scrunched his face as he thought about it. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Well, I can’t remember seeing him.”
“Okay,” Hee-cheol replied in the same voice. He went back to silently staring at the wall.
Siwan gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked past. “Don’t worry, he’ll show up eventually.”
* * *
Since Siwan’s allergies had been cleared up by a course of anti-histamines (and most likely the absence of Simba), he was able to return to playing the lead role in The Maltese Falcon. He wasn’t entirely surprised when Hee-cheol didn’t show up to the performance, although he was a little uneasy about the thought of what he might be doing instead. Some of the company asked where he was, and Siwan explained that he was likely looking for his lost cat. They rolled their eyes, suggesting that they thought this was a bad excuse and Hee-cheol was just bitter that he couldn’t play the part again.
When Siwan returned home he found Hee-cheol lurking in the shadows. He turned the light on and saw that Hee-cheol was still looking miserable, and now even more tired, with his bloodshot eyes and unshaven face.
“Still haven’t found him?” Siwan asked.
Hee-cheol didn’t reply.
“Look, if Simba did escape outside, you might have to accept the fact that he won’t be coming back.”
Hee-cheol turned his face to look Siwan straight in the eye, but still didn’t say anything.
“I mean, there was a storm last night. If he was outside, he might have been washed away in one of the drains. He was only really tiny. He could have been eaten by a dog or a rat even.”
Hee-cheol suddenly looked as if he was about to cry, and Siwan thought he might have pushed that too far.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Hee-cheol said, voice hoarse. “You wanted him dead. You were always saying so.”
“No, I didn’t want this,” Siwan said and in his mind he added, the cat was a nuisance, but you in this state are even more of a nuisance. “Look, sitting up like this isn’t doing any good. Go to sleep.”
He waited until Hee-cheol finally picked himself up and went to bed.
* * *
The next day Hee-cheol turned up to a drama school tutorial. He was a little late, but at least he had washed himself, and he looked better than he had the day before.
The tutorial group was seated in a circle of chairs. As soon as Hee-cheol sat down the tutor made him stand up again.
“We’re going to start with a bit of improvisation,” she said. “Hee-cheol, you can go first.”
At first Hee-cheol’s face was blank, like that of someone who had been given a lobotomy. He stood there blinking for a moment, then finally cleared his throat. Summoning a bit of confidence, he held onto the ends of his jacket and paced around the circle, similar to the motions he had made whilst playing Sam Spade.
“Im Siwan!” he said suddenly, spinning around to look Siwan straight in the eye. “Where were you on the evening of September 6?”
Siwan raised his eyebrow. “Is this a detective improv?”
“Come on Siwan,” the tutor said, “stay in character.”
Siwan sighed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he thought he might as well play along. “Alright then. On the night of September 6, I was at a birthday party. With you, Jeong Hee-cheol.”
One of the students in the group chuckled, but Hee-cheol remained deathly serious. “And where were you just before arriving at this birthday party?”
“I was at home. Also with you.”
“Liar! You went back to the house alone.”
“Yes, for about five minutes.”
“So, you were at home, by yourself, all alone at the scene of the crime. The night Simba went missing.”
“That is correct.”
The tutorial group were now watching them with rapt attention. No doubt they were impressed with Hee-cheol’s marvellous acting. Only he wasn’t acting at all and only Siwan knew this.
“So you were at the scene of the crime. You had opportunity and you had motive. You hated Simba, didn’t you? He made you angry.”
“Yeah, sure I hated him. He gave me allergies and peed on my stuff.”
A few of the students in the group laughed at this, but Hee-cheol made them go quiet again with his cold stare.
“I put this to you then, Im Siwan. On the evening of September 6, after you had gone back to the house by yourself, you drowned Simba and discarded the body, making it seem as if he had either gone missing or been killed in the storm. Does that sound right Siwan?”
Siwan looked around at the other students. They seemed to be enjoying this performance and he even heard someone whisper, “Wow, Hee-cheol’s performance is really intense.” Heat filled up Siwan’s face as he looked back at Hee-cheol, standing there so self-righteous and important, accusing him of killing a kitten whilst everyone else looked on in admiration. He felt the sudden urge to put Hee-cheol back in his place.
“Alright then, Hee-cheol,” he said, hardly thinking it through, “I killed your stupid cat.”
A look of pain flashed across Hee-cheol’s face and his eyes became round. He dropped to his knees in a fluid motion, as if he had been felled by an axe. At last he cried out, in a pitiful and anguished scream, “You monster! You murderer! How could you, how could you...” He started to cry.
“Wow, that’s some great emotion there,” the tutor said. “Real tears and everything.”
“He’s not acting!” Siwan cried out as he jumped to his feet. “He’s being an idiot. I had nothing to do with your cat, Hee-cheol. If you lost it, it’s your own fault. Get a hold of yourself.”
Hee-cheol cried even harder. He got back on his feet, and shouted, “You won’t get away with this!” before running out of the room.
The students clapped. “Bravo, bravo! Good improv.”
Siwan decided that it would be wise to follow him. After a bit of running around, he found Hee-cheol in the bike shed, where he was hacking away at Siwan’s break cord with a pair of scissors. Siwan leaned over him.
“Vandalising my bike, are you?”
“I told you, you would have to pay. I hope you crash your bike and die!” He finished cutting the breaks.
Siwan sighed. “I didn’t do it, Hee-cheol. That was just improv. By the way, if you wanted to damage my breaks, you probably shouldn’t have slashed the tyres first. I’m not gonna ride it now, am I?”
Hee-cheol looked down at his handiwork with some embarrassment. “Whatever. Screw you and your bike!” With that, he took his own bike and left the shed. Siwan picked up what was left of the mangled bike, and carried it home.
Siwan was slow getting home, and no doubt Hee-cheol had got there first. Siwan shuddered to think of what Hee-cheol might have done in this mood of his. His fears were confirmed when he checked his bedroom and saw that the whole room had been ransacked. His clothes had been thrown out of their drawers, some even ripped up. On the mirror the word “murderer” had been scrawled in what looked like red lipstick. Siwan groaned out loud when he saw that the strings on his violin had been cut. That bastard.
Siwan thought he better find Hee-cheol before he caused any more trouble. He ran to the front of the building. Fortunately, he did not have to look far since Hee-cheol was standing a little way down the road, accompanied a small group of people. Minwoo was amongst them, as were a few of Hee-cheol’s other friends. They appeared to be examining the drain.
“So, the murderer returns to the scene of the crime,” Hee-cheol said as Siwan approached. The others all turned to look at him too.
“Gee Siwan,” said Minwoo, “murdering a cat. That’s a real dick move.”
One of Hee-cheol’s girlfriends chimed in. “Yeah, what kind of asshole kills a little kitten?”
Siwan stared back at them with his mouth open. “I didn’t do it...”
“So have you come to apologise then?” Hee-cheol asked.
Siwan was offended. “Apologise? How dare you ask me to apologise! I had nothing to do with Simba, and I don’t know where he is. After what you did to my stuff, I think you should be the one to apologise.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Hee-cheol said solemnly. “I’m going home tomorrow, and after that I’ll find somewhere else to live. I can’t possibly share a house with a murderer anymore. You’ll probably never see me again.”
Siwan blinked at him. “Good. You’re a loser and I never liked you anyway.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, we are having a memorial service for Simba, to say goodbye properly, and you are not invited!”
The group all stared at him with accusing eyes, so at last Siwan turned to leave.
* * *
As Siwan sat alone in the ruins of his house, he tried to feel pleased about the fact that Hee-cheol was gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but misery. There was something so utterly depressing about the place now, and it wasn’t just the fact that everything was wrecked.
Strangely enough, one of things that Hee-cheol didn’t smash up was a framed photo of them together on the day they had first moved in. Siwan looked over it again, and sighed sadly. Things had started off so well, they had been close back then and Hee-cheol had stuck to him like a little brother. But I was such a bad big brother for him, Siwan thought. I was always trying to put him down. Maybe if we had been closer, things wouldn’t have turned out like this...
There was a knock on the door and Siwan felt a shot of excitement. Perhaps Hee-cheol would come crawling back after all.
When he opened the door, he saw that it was one of the neighbours. She was holding a purring kitten.
“Is this yours?” she asked. “I found him hiding under the staircase. I thought he might be a stray, but he has a name tag. It says-”
“Simba. Yes, he’s mine.”
She handed over the kitten and Siwan thanked her. He thought it would be polite to invite her inside, but the house was in such a messed up state so he just took Simba and closed the door.
He warmed up some milk for the cat, then went back to lying on the living room floor. Simba came over and licked his face. Siwan sighed as he felt the itch of his allergy returning.
“Ah, Simba,” he said, “I guess it’s just you and me now.”
Fandom: ZE:A
Characters: Siwan & Hee-cheol
Rating: PG
Word count: 3,500
Summary: When Hee-cheol's cat goes missing someone has to pay.
Siwan was rereading his script on the day that Hee-cheol brought Simba home. Even though he had been sitting alone in his bedroom, he could somehow sense trouble coming from outside the door. He could hear Hee-cheol talking to someone, and he couldn’t help but be distracted by the strange comments he was making.
“Are you a girl or a boy?” he heard Hee-cheol say. He hoped that Hee-cheol hadn’t brought home some random person he had met on the internet. He went on: “I can’t tell, even though you’re naked. What happened to your hair? It looks like you have a bald patch...”
At last Siwan threw down the script and went to investigate. He found Hee-cheol crouched on the floor of the living room. In his hand he was holding a kitten.
“Where did you find that?” Siwan asked.
“I found it hiding in the train station. I think it might be sick, since it’s missing some of its hair.”
Siwan leaned in closer to get a look at the cat. Its hair was a mottled black and brown and he could see little bugs crawling across its face. “I think it has fleas. You should take it away.”
“I’ll take it to the vet.”
“Whatever, just get rid of it.”
Hee-cheol left with the kitten cupped against his breast and Siwan went back to reading the script. After some time he started to wonder if the vet would have the kitten put down. If that was the case, he dreaded Hee-cheol’s reaction. Hee-cheol had a way of feeling things deeply and he could be difficult to deal with when he was in a bad mood.
When Hee-cheol came back he had the cat still with him. He was in a good mood.
“The vet said that he’s a boy,” Hee-cheol told Siwan, who wasn’t particularly interested. He held the cat up in the air in a ceremonial manner. “So I decided to name him Simba.”
“Because of The Lion King?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
Siwan put down his script and scratched his head. “Wait, does this mean you’re planning on keeping it?”
“Of course.”
“No, wait. You should ask me first. I have to live here too. I mean, look at it, it has fleas.”
Hee-cheol gave Siwan a dark look. “Are you suggesting that I just throw him out? Simba needs somebody to love him. Besides, the vet gave me some medicine for the fleas.”
“Okay, just don’t let it bother me. I have to get ready for the audition on Wednesday.”
Siwan waved the script around to illustrate the point and Hee-cheol frowned. “The audition? You mean the one for The Maltese Falcon? Are you going for the lead role?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Hee-cheol nodded gravely. “I guess I’ll see you there then.”
Siwan rolled his eyes. “Are you auditioning too?” Siwan and Hee-cheol were attending the same drama school and they often competed for the same roles. Siwan was the one that usually ended up getting them.
“I might get an understudy role.” He suddenly cried out as the cat bit his hand. “Simba, don’t bite! I’m your daddy, you can’t bite me.”
Siwan chuckled. “Good luck with that.” He was referring to both the cat and the audition.
* * *
When Simba had arrived, he was three weeks old and before long he was six. The medication had helped to eradicate the fleas, but Hee-cheol was still in the process of housetraining him.
“You know, I think I now understand the feelings that my mother had when I was born,” Hee-cheol said as he petted the kitten. He was lying face up on the living room floor and the cat was curled up on his stomach.
“I still think the vet should have had it put down,” Siwan said. “All it ever does it whine and piss everywhere.”
Hee-cheol looked up at him sincerely. “Only a heartless person would want to kill such an innocent kitten. How will you ever become a great actor if you don’t feel any deep emotions?”
“I do feel deep emotions. Just not ones about bratty little feral cats. Besides, I’m rehearsing for the role of a hardboiled detective and he doesn’t have strong emotions.”
“That’s what you think,” Hee-cheol replied somewhat cryptically and Siwan sighed.
Siwan and Hee-cheol had been living together for almost two years. Two years ago they had come together to the city in order to study at the national drama school. They had both come from far away and in the beginning it was hard adjusting to the new place. Back then they had been close, and Hee-cheol had stuck to Siwan like a little brother. In recent times they had not been so close. Siwan thought that this might be because Hee-cheol had become more competitive about his acting career. Just a week ago when Siwan had been cast as Sam Spade in the upcoming stage production of The Maltese Falcon, Hee-cheol had been made the understudy, and no doubt he was bitter about this. Whenever they were rehearsing together, Hee-cheol would find ways to give unnecessary instructions to Siwan’s acting, which was immensely annoying.
“Don’t forget which one of us is the understudy here,” Siwan told him, then felt a bit guilty, since he didn’t mean to make Hee-cheol feel inferior.
“Don’t worry, I will practice my part well. And you never know, something bad might happen to you before the performance, and I would have to be prepared.”
Such comments about “something bad” happening to Siwan before a performance might have been interpreted as a threat, but Siwan was never worried. He knew that Hee-cheol’s crippling inferiority complex was too strong to make him do “something bad”, and besides, for all his shortcomings Hee-cheol wasn’t the evil type.
* * *
As it so happened, something did go wrong on the day of the first performance. Siwan woke up with his face and body covered in red patches. He went straight to the doctor, who examined him and said, “Hmm, it looks like some kind of allergy. Have you had any contact with cats or dogs recently?”
“Yes, yes I have,” he said and in his mind he blamed Hee-cheol.
“Your wish came true,” he told Hee-cheol when he got home. “You’ll have to play the part of Sam tonight. I hope you’re happy.”
Hee-cheol looked surprised, but he did not look happy. In fact, he looked frightened by the thought of stepping up to the role. “Are you sure you can’t do it? It’s only some red marks.”
Siwan took one more look at Hee-cheol standing there in his pyjamas, eating cereal straight from the box, and it occurred to him that Hee-cheol might not be ready to play such a major role. This thought comforted him somewhat, and he gave Hee-cheol a slap on the shoulder as he walked past. “Break a leg,” he said.
* * *
That night Hee-cheol actually did rather well in the performance. Siwan watched most of it from the wings, and only a couple of times he noted Hee-cheol forgetting his lines. The other actors were full of praise for Hee-cheol, and Siwan suspected that they were only being nice because Hee-cheol was an understudy and he had been called up at last minute.
Hee-cheol was insufferably cocky on the way home, but his mood changed when he noticed that it was raining. There was thunder, and the rain was especially heavy. “Simba will be scared,” he said. “He doesn’t like stormy weather.”
“Maybe he’ll hide under a couch or something,” Siwan said. He could have cared less about Simba if he tried.
“Honestly, I think you need to get rid of that cat,” Siwan continued when they were home. They were getting changed because they were going to a friend’s birthday party. “It’s too much trouble for you to handle, and it’s giving me allergies. You should probably find a nice family for him.”
Hee-cheol glared at him with piercing eyes. “You have no idea how much Simba means to me. He’s like a member of my own family. How could I possibly give him away?”
Just as they were leaving for the party Hee-cheol spoke again. “Anyway, I think I know why you’re saying this. I think you might be a bit jealous of me...”
Siwan choked on his own laughter. “Jealous of you? What do you mean?”
“Because I acted well in your role tonight.”
“Hee-cheol give me a break. You’re a deadbeat who spends all his time eating ramyun and playing computer games. You’re barely scraping through school and you can’t even get a lead role for yourself. No one in their right mind would be jealous of you.”
Hee-cheol went silent for a moment and Siwan thought that he might have been too harsh. But after a moment of looking glum, his face brightened up again and he said, “...but all the girls dig me!”
Siwan rolled his eyes. He checked his shirt suddenly after sensing a suspicious smell, and confirmed his initial fear. He sighed with exhaustion. “I think Simba might have peed on this. I’ll have to go back and change. Tell Minwoo I’ll be over a little later.”
Hee-cheol nodded, and left for the party on his own.
* * *
Siwan came home late that night and went straight to bed. Not long after falling asleep, Hee-cheol shook him awake again.
“What is it?”
Hee-cheol was leaning over him and looking wild and distressed. “It’s Simba. He’s missing, I can’t find him anywhere.”
That damn cat again. Siwan climbed out of bed and helped Hee-cheol look for Simba. Siwan turned over a few cushions as Hee-cheol crawled under the chairs.
“Simba, Simba!” he called.
Siwan yawned. “He’ll turn up later. He’s probably just hiding because of the storm.”
Hee-cheol ignored him. He contemplated the front door. “What if he accidentally got let out? He could be outside...”
“He’s not going to be outside in the rain. Cat’s hate the rain.” Siwan sighed as he watched Hee-cheol put his shoes on and leave the house. He hoped that Hee-cheol wouldn’t annoy the neighbours too much with his search, but he decided that it was out of his hands now. He went back to bed.
* * *
The next morning Siwan found Hee-cheol sitting at the kitchen table, looking grimmer than he’d ever seen him before. He was wearing the same clothes as the previous day and Siwan wondered whether he’d even slept at all. He was staring straight ahead and he did not acknowledge Siwan coming in.
“Did you find Simba?”
Hee-cheol didn’t bother replying and Siwan thought that was probably fair enough; the answer was self-evident.
“When you came home yesterday,” Hee-cheol asked, his voice in a monotone, “you came back to change your shirt. Did you see Simba then?”
Siwan scrunched his face as he thought about it. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Well, I can’t remember seeing him.”
“Okay,” Hee-cheol replied in the same voice. He went back to silently staring at the wall.
Siwan gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked past. “Don’t worry, he’ll show up eventually.”
* * *
Since Siwan’s allergies had been cleared up by a course of anti-histamines (and most likely the absence of Simba), he was able to return to playing the lead role in The Maltese Falcon. He wasn’t entirely surprised when Hee-cheol didn’t show up to the performance, although he was a little uneasy about the thought of what he might be doing instead. Some of the company asked where he was, and Siwan explained that he was likely looking for his lost cat. They rolled their eyes, suggesting that they thought this was a bad excuse and Hee-cheol was just bitter that he couldn’t play the part again.
When Siwan returned home he found Hee-cheol lurking in the shadows. He turned the light on and saw that Hee-cheol was still looking miserable, and now even more tired, with his bloodshot eyes and unshaven face.
“Still haven’t found him?” Siwan asked.
Hee-cheol didn’t reply.
“Look, if Simba did escape outside, you might have to accept the fact that he won’t be coming back.”
Hee-cheol turned his face to look Siwan straight in the eye, but still didn’t say anything.
“I mean, there was a storm last night. If he was outside, he might have been washed away in one of the drains. He was only really tiny. He could have been eaten by a dog or a rat even.”
Hee-cheol suddenly looked as if he was about to cry, and Siwan thought he might have pushed that too far.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Hee-cheol said, voice hoarse. “You wanted him dead. You were always saying so.”
“No, I didn’t want this,” Siwan said and in his mind he added, the cat was a nuisance, but you in this state are even more of a nuisance. “Look, sitting up like this isn’t doing any good. Go to sleep.”
He waited until Hee-cheol finally picked himself up and went to bed.
* * *
The next day Hee-cheol turned up to a drama school tutorial. He was a little late, but at least he had washed himself, and he looked better than he had the day before.
The tutorial group was seated in a circle of chairs. As soon as Hee-cheol sat down the tutor made him stand up again.
“We’re going to start with a bit of improvisation,” she said. “Hee-cheol, you can go first.”
At first Hee-cheol’s face was blank, like that of someone who had been given a lobotomy. He stood there blinking for a moment, then finally cleared his throat. Summoning a bit of confidence, he held onto the ends of his jacket and paced around the circle, similar to the motions he had made whilst playing Sam Spade.
“Im Siwan!” he said suddenly, spinning around to look Siwan straight in the eye. “Where were you on the evening of September 6?”
Siwan raised his eyebrow. “Is this a detective improv?”
“Come on Siwan,” the tutor said, “stay in character.”
Siwan sighed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he thought he might as well play along. “Alright then. On the night of September 6, I was at a birthday party. With you, Jeong Hee-cheol.”
One of the students in the group chuckled, but Hee-cheol remained deathly serious. “And where were you just before arriving at this birthday party?”
“I was at home. Also with you.”
“Liar! You went back to the house alone.”
“Yes, for about five minutes.”
“So, you were at home, by yourself, all alone at the scene of the crime. The night Simba went missing.”
“That is correct.”
The tutorial group were now watching them with rapt attention. No doubt they were impressed with Hee-cheol’s marvellous acting. Only he wasn’t acting at all and only Siwan knew this.
“So you were at the scene of the crime. You had opportunity and you had motive. You hated Simba, didn’t you? He made you angry.”
“Yeah, sure I hated him. He gave me allergies and peed on my stuff.”
A few of the students in the group laughed at this, but Hee-cheol made them go quiet again with his cold stare.
“I put this to you then, Im Siwan. On the evening of September 6, after you had gone back to the house by yourself, you drowned Simba and discarded the body, making it seem as if he had either gone missing or been killed in the storm. Does that sound right Siwan?”
Siwan looked around at the other students. They seemed to be enjoying this performance and he even heard someone whisper, “Wow, Hee-cheol’s performance is really intense.” Heat filled up Siwan’s face as he looked back at Hee-cheol, standing there so self-righteous and important, accusing him of killing a kitten whilst everyone else looked on in admiration. He felt the sudden urge to put Hee-cheol back in his place.
“Alright then, Hee-cheol,” he said, hardly thinking it through, “I killed your stupid cat.”
A look of pain flashed across Hee-cheol’s face and his eyes became round. He dropped to his knees in a fluid motion, as if he had been felled by an axe. At last he cried out, in a pitiful and anguished scream, “You monster! You murderer! How could you, how could you...” He started to cry.
“Wow, that’s some great emotion there,” the tutor said. “Real tears and everything.”
“He’s not acting!” Siwan cried out as he jumped to his feet. “He’s being an idiot. I had nothing to do with your cat, Hee-cheol. If you lost it, it’s your own fault. Get a hold of yourself.”
Hee-cheol cried even harder. He got back on his feet, and shouted, “You won’t get away with this!” before running out of the room.
The students clapped. “Bravo, bravo! Good improv.”
Siwan decided that it would be wise to follow him. After a bit of running around, he found Hee-cheol in the bike shed, where he was hacking away at Siwan’s break cord with a pair of scissors. Siwan leaned over him.
“Vandalising my bike, are you?”
“I told you, you would have to pay. I hope you crash your bike and die!” He finished cutting the breaks.
Siwan sighed. “I didn’t do it, Hee-cheol. That was just improv. By the way, if you wanted to damage my breaks, you probably shouldn’t have slashed the tyres first. I’m not gonna ride it now, am I?”
Hee-cheol looked down at his handiwork with some embarrassment. “Whatever. Screw you and your bike!” With that, he took his own bike and left the shed. Siwan picked up what was left of the mangled bike, and carried it home.
Siwan was slow getting home, and no doubt Hee-cheol had got there first. Siwan shuddered to think of what Hee-cheol might have done in this mood of his. His fears were confirmed when he checked his bedroom and saw that the whole room had been ransacked. His clothes had been thrown out of their drawers, some even ripped up. On the mirror the word “murderer” had been scrawled in what looked like red lipstick. Siwan groaned out loud when he saw that the strings on his violin had been cut. That bastard.
Siwan thought he better find Hee-cheol before he caused any more trouble. He ran to the front of the building. Fortunately, he did not have to look far since Hee-cheol was standing a little way down the road, accompanied a small group of people. Minwoo was amongst them, as were a few of Hee-cheol’s other friends. They appeared to be examining the drain.
“So, the murderer returns to the scene of the crime,” Hee-cheol said as Siwan approached. The others all turned to look at him too.
“Gee Siwan,” said Minwoo, “murdering a cat. That’s a real dick move.”
One of Hee-cheol’s girlfriends chimed in. “Yeah, what kind of asshole kills a little kitten?”
Siwan stared back at them with his mouth open. “I didn’t do it...”
“So have you come to apologise then?” Hee-cheol asked.
Siwan was offended. “Apologise? How dare you ask me to apologise! I had nothing to do with Simba, and I don’t know where he is. After what you did to my stuff, I think you should be the one to apologise.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Hee-cheol said solemnly. “I’m going home tomorrow, and after that I’ll find somewhere else to live. I can’t possibly share a house with a murderer anymore. You’ll probably never see me again.”
Siwan blinked at him. “Good. You’re a loser and I never liked you anyway.”
“Now, if you don’t mind, we are having a memorial service for Simba, to say goodbye properly, and you are not invited!”
The group all stared at him with accusing eyes, so at last Siwan turned to leave.
* * *
As Siwan sat alone in the ruins of his house, he tried to feel pleased about the fact that Hee-cheol was gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but misery. There was something so utterly depressing about the place now, and it wasn’t just the fact that everything was wrecked.
Strangely enough, one of things that Hee-cheol didn’t smash up was a framed photo of them together on the day they had first moved in. Siwan looked over it again, and sighed sadly. Things had started off so well, they had been close back then and Hee-cheol had stuck to him like a little brother. But I was such a bad big brother for him, Siwan thought. I was always trying to put him down. Maybe if we had been closer, things wouldn’t have turned out like this...
There was a knock on the door and Siwan felt a shot of excitement. Perhaps Hee-cheol would come crawling back after all.
When he opened the door, he saw that it was one of the neighbours. She was holding a purring kitten.
“Is this yours?” she asked. “I found him hiding under the staircase. I thought he might be a stray, but he has a name tag. It says-”
“Simba. Yes, he’s mine.”
She handed over the kitten and Siwan thanked her. He thought it would be polite to invite her inside, but the house was in such a messed up state so he just took Simba and closed the door.
He warmed up some milk for the cat, then went back to lying on the living room floor. Simba came over and licked his face. Siwan sighed as he felt the itch of his allergy returning.
“Ah, Simba,” he said, “I guess it’s just you and me now.”