70 — Corrosion of Morality II

Is morality a social construct? A product of what one has grown to believe is right and what is wrong? Or was the term referring to something more in terms of a principle, an intangible, self-determined guide that leads us in life and aids us in decision making.

Despite the possible ambiguity of the definition, one must be certain of a key concept: a decision.

Once a decision is taken, then one could decide to live with it and stick to it until the end. That was fine. But not before. Choosing and acting is very different from choosing and thinking. One must, when making their choices, always do so knowing that a mistake could have severe, potentially life-shattering consequences.

Was a choice—any choice—ever without error? Could one ever take the perfect course? In the present case, of a seemingly morally acceptable decision, the potential catastrophic outcome of failure would, in the end, nullify the good deed altogether and transform it into its opposite.

Perhaps it would be easier if, instead of a mere hour or so of precious time together, Mia and I decided that, instead, we should forgo all contact until after the World Cup.

Wouldn't a sacrifice for such a short, meagre span of time be not a virtue but a delusion?

Of course, it didn't help that a very large, significant, very intrusive part of my conscience had other thoughts—particularly with the decision to forego the temptation. The truth was that I just wanted to see my sister.

Even at the cost of getting caught, getting reprimanded, or worse. I could've refused. Could've told her that we had to maintain our distance during training camp. That we needed to respect the rules. Be a model team player. Stay focused on the match.

Be disciplined.

I didn't think about any of those consequences, and frankly, the logical, rational side of my mind told me that they would likely have turned out to be over-exaggerations.

We weren't breaking into a bank, were we? Just having a bit of family time, as adults.

Well, I wasn't one, legally speaking. But maturity was the general gist.

That's why I gently grabbed her wrist and led her in. "The kind of caution one should never need or expect to have with their siblings." I replied, eventually.

And I said so knowing exactly how deep the irony in my words could sink, because as sure as the world's most ignorant leader believed to have their subjects wrapped around their fingers, I was the furthest thing from having a brotherly view of her in this, or any, universe.

I had to slow down for a moment as the thought hit me a little harder than expected. It never felt real. Never once since I could comprehend the complexity and depth of what it was she awakened inside of me did it feel real. I knew the day I'd be found out for the lie, the conman, the wolf in sheep's clothing, the swindler.

How would they react when they saw how depraved the animal was—so dirty and savage in the truth it denied and the things it wanted.

This woman made my heart beat faster than a thousand drums. My blood was on fire and every synapse in my body was fired by the chemical combustion of a feeling that defied the rules.

So sweet and poisonous, because only I knew, only I, who'd ever had the displeasure and pleasure of the cursed knowledge, could know.

And yet I did nothing to stop it.

Nothing to change the fact that this was not a choice, nor a mistake. It was... almost inevitable. A slow-mo of two cars crashing, or a bomb ticking, or the last few seconds of a clock running out.

It was something that happened.

A thing of nature.

A force of the universe, and nothing I or anyone could do about it.

It scared me. Still did. And likely always will. Even the devil himself might fear what would happen if he had to stare into the depths of his own sins.

Mia tugged at my hand. Soft fingers that sought mine. She had a slight smile. The kind of smile a little child would have, if she found the antlers of a doe. A little hesitant, a little expectant. Her eyes flashed, almost glowing in the dim-lit hallway we were in. "Come on..." She urged me on in an undertone. "Stop spacing out so much, Jae-il. Did all of that football training make you go stupid?"

I closed my eyes. Licking my dry lips slowly. A chuckle was all I could muster. "Probably. Repeated head trauma might've finally gotten to me."

I hoped so, because none of this shit was normal.

Her lips formed a small pout and she narrowed her eyes at me. It took me all of a second and a half, or perhaps two, before I blinked, turned away and had to literally tug her forward as we began to briskly walk down the hallway.

"Follow me."

"Huh, where are you even taking me?"

"Not outside."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

Cute.

"I had security turn a blind eye so most of them are not around. We've got an entire wing emptied out since some players were sent off due to injury or simply lack of talent and discipline." I whispered. I had made sure of that, actually, bribing some of the weaker guys who were low on pay. Getting in the good graces of a future World Class football player did give quite a bit of a bonus and influence. "We could use one of their rooms."

"Sounds like a great idea, to me." Mia gave me a wide-toothed smile.

I halted and opened the door, leading her in. I checked left and right before I closed it behind us. It felt a little bit like sneaking your girlfriend into your house through the window when your parents were home, even though they already knew the two of you were together.

"Soo..." Mia walked around, taking in the freshly cleaned beds and the complete lack of personality. "Soooo...."

I winced at her repetition. My mind, traitorously, thought that the sound she made was cute. She slowly spun around as she took in the dormitory, humming.

That hoodie she had on had no business being this tight. Or her jeans. God, her jeans.

Mia was no petite miss, but even a little fat here and there didn't diminish her charm. In my honest, unbiased, utterly self-centered, and terribly obsessive opinion, she was flawless. It didn't help that my thoughts had become pretty fixated on her figure as of late. Hormones? Definitely, hormones. Stupid hormones.

My iron-fisted self control had become self-dependent on fisting something else. And the very alluring pigment of my sensual fantasies was standing across from me right now. So all of a sudden I wasn't too sure what to do or where to go. Sitting or standing would be awkward.

Come on, what's with me? Feeling weak in the knees because my blood was rushing a little too strong? I wrinkled my nose, took in a deep breath, and made my way to the mini-bar. "Want anything to drink? Water? Tea? Monster?" I knew what she preferred, but the last thing we needed was caffeine and the reason we were there in the first place didn't need another push towards it.

"Oooooh, got any Monster?"

Mentally kicking myself, I picked a can of a sugar-and-caffeinated monster. It wasn't coffee, no, but it was a drink full of unhealthy shit—exactly what my sister needed, if she didn't want her current hyperactive behavior to snowball into a cocaine induced maniac high. You know what? Fuck it. I grabbed two cans. Half a liter of pure madness each.

"Got the pink one?" She leaned in to take a look.

Her hair fell over my shoulder, its scent gently teasing the tip of my nose. I searched through the cans in the fridge, then shook my head. "Looks like black and white is what they left behind."

"Tch." Mia clicked her tongue. "Alright, let's have the white one."

Good. I popped both open and handed her one. It was time to be productive in distracting ourselves from this predicament.

"So, how's the training going?" Mia sipped her soda with a pleased little slurp. She made herself comfortable in one of the beds, kicking off her shoes, revealing cute little socks, and even cuter ankles. She shifted, tucking both legs under her. "Doesn't look like you've had a hard time handling the training from what I saw on that livestream. Those were some pretty great goals you scored. Do they even pass a single ball your way during drills, or do they just sit there and marvel at you like some sort of godsent boy-wonders?"

I laughed. She surely made an amusing statement, albeit based on exaggeration. It had no basis in reality. "It's only the national youth team, we've got plenty of room to grow. Don't think for one instant that I'll be replicating what I do here on an international stage. Especially against the likes of, I don't know, Brazil or France or Spain."

"That sounds pretty awfully humble, you brat." Mia snarked, chugging half the can in one go. A little bit of it dripped from the corner of her mouth. I glanced downwards and noticed, for the first time, she was wearing lip gloss. It looked, smelt, and seemed a little too sweet. "Honestly, I simply can't imagine anyone else being better than you are. Ever."

I shrugged. It was flattering, coming from her. But extremely biased and clearly limited by an equally limited perspective. Still, I chose to remain modest. "Don't be surprised if I end up losing badly against the giants of Europe. Anyway, let's stop talking about me and football." I chugged a third of my can. I could feel my heart beginning to race, but this time it felt right. "How have you been doing, Noona? How is everyone else?"

She shifted to face me, sitting cross-legged. Her palms rested on either side of her feet. She put the Monster can to the side, her gaze drifting up to look into mine. "Not as good without you there, honestly. It's lonely, and boring, and dad is too busy working." She groaned. "Su Ah is... well, trying. I guess. Though I can't say I've made it easy for her. I should apologize."

Oh. That came rather abruptly. I blinked, humming. "That's mature of you."

Mia scowled. "Don't take that tone, little brat."

"Pfft."

"Jeez." She threw a pillow at me.

With practiced ease I evaded it by a hair's breadth, causing Mia to click her tongue. We exchanged glances. She grabbed the can and pointed an accusatory, judgemental finger at me. "Are you saying my maturity is questionable?"

I grinned, pointing one back. "When you don't exhibit any, then yes."

"Cheeky."

I snickered.

We sipped.

Licked our lips.

Drank again.

Feet idly brushed against each other, thighs a whisper away.

She sighed, pleased. Her head swayed in pure bliss and contentment. "I missed this."

I looked down at my drink. "I did as well."

"Why can't we do this more often?" She asked, sounding wistful. I understood.

"You know we can't. I'll be heading to the World Cup and, even after that, my club and the nationals will keep me busy." I hated how restrained we had to be.

Funny how I began to hate it as much as she did, considering my general avoidance of her.

She grew on me—in a way that I didn't expect.

Mia glanced away. "Damn. It sucks. So much."

I smiled bitterly.

"Can't you quit?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Would you really want me to do that?"

She deflated. "No..."

"Then..."

"Then..." Mia gritted her teeth, grabbing fistfuls of her hair. "Arghhh! This is so annoying. You're so annoying!"

"Huh." I scowled, confused. "Me? What did I do?"

She released her fists. Hair was messily all over the place, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes twitched, one corner of her upper lip twitching. Despite the storm she left behind, she was still so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. A little angel in distress.

"You're..." She pointed, rather childishly, a finger to my direction. "Just, aaaaaaghhh!"

Except that the look in her eyes—

I was about to take a sip of my can.

And then suddenly she was pushing me flat against the mattress. "Why does everything always have to be difficult?"

The can slipped from my grasp, slowly bleeding out over the mattress. The cleaning ladies would definitely frown at the mess.

Still, I blinked, looking up.

"......."

I remained there, confused beyond words. My pulse raced, for the nth time, my eyes focusing, not so much on what she said, as in her. As in every single line. The slope of her nose, the curve of her upper lip, the blush dusting her cheeks, and the reddening of the skin under her eyes. Her hair tickled my cheek and chin. Her warmth bled onto me, seared onto me, imprinting onto me like a hot brand.

Our gaze met. I wasn't surprised when the first emotion I identified in them was frustration. Mia was never one to express herself openly. At least, not in words. But she did show her emotions rather plainly through the many minute expressions crossing her countenance, every twitch and tremble of her features spelling out every syllable, letter, and word.

"Why do you do this to me?" She asked me, not bothering to define whatever it was I had apparently done to her. "Why..." She exhaled, shoulders slumping. They shook a little.

"Noona..."

She lowered her head and I lost her gaze. Her eyelids drooped as she closed in, and I caught the heat of her breath between the small distance separating us. I should have done something. Stop her. Push her off.

But her voice was in my ears. That same velvety, heated, insistent, tone from then, from those nights, from those dreams, the same whisper—only in life.

"I can't live like this, Jae-il."

Tears dropped from her eyes.

They soaked my face.

"I fucking can't."