Slosh.
As I helped Jimin up, the half-finished can of soda on my desk tipped over. A small stream of syrupy cola oozed across the table, soaking into a stack of napkins I'd been too lazy to throw out. I barely noticed.
What I did notice was how close she was—my older sister, Jimin, drunk from a work gathering, leaning her body against mine for support.
She smelled faintly of fruit soju, perfume, and city air. I flinched when I felt her weight press against me, her head slumping onto my shoulder.
"Ugh… I believe in you, my little brother…"
"Just lie down," I mumbled, guiding her to the bed.
She wobbled slightly, heels clicking awkwardly on my linoleum floor before collapsing onto the mattress with a sigh.
And then, to my utter horror—
"Ahhh~ Yujin's girlfriend~ Hi?"
"GYAAAH!"
I turned just in time to see her peering at the torso-shaped onahole I'd left out in my usual half-brained routine. Dressed in a cheap sailor uniform, its soft silicone limbs were posed suggestively. And Jimin—of all people—was talking to it.
"I'm Yujin's noona~~ Nice to meet you," she sang in a slurred voice.
"She's not my girlfriend!!"
"You don't put it in her, do you~? Shouldn't you, like... y'know... stick it in the hole?"
"I-I don't need to!"
She giggled.
I wanted to die.
Humiliation alone might've crushed me, but it didn't stop there. Jimin flopped down beside the doll like she owned the bed and passed out in under thirty seconds.
Like she'd forgotten she was in a guy's apartment. In my apartment. Alone.
I stood frozen.
She must not see me as a man at all. Not even a person worth being uncomfortable around.
I looked at her again—still, quiet, one leg dangling slightly off the mattress. She looked peaceful. Her phone had slipped out of her purse. Notifications blinked on the screen. Missed calls from work, probably.
She worked hard. Always had.
I sat back down on the edge of the couch and tried to refocus my attention. Maybe watch some YouTube. Or scroll through shorts until I felt sleepy.
But I didn't feel sleepy. If anything, I was wide awake. The energy buzzing in my body was electric, chaotic.
Frustration, shame, self-loathing.
I opened a few videos. Ads for garbage dating apps. Crypto bros screaming at me. Algorithm shoving 'manhood tutorials' and 'why no one wants to date you' lectures into my face.
I closed the app.
I sighed. My hand idly twitched.
This was what I had become. A dopamine-chasing husk of a man, too weak to follow through on his plans, too numb to feel much of anything except when someone else was involved.
And right now, that someone else was asleep on my bed.
My eyes flicked toward her.
Not because of anything wrong, I told myself, but because she looked safe. Like she was on a break from her hard life.
Unlike me.
I was a parasite. A glorified digital ghost in the family registry.
What would she think if she knew just how far I'd fallen? That I spent hours talking to silicone, pretending it was enough? That I hadn't even looked at a job board in months? That I lied to our parents every time they asked?
I ran a hand down my face.
Even now, I could feel the stupid flush in my chest—the same combination of guilt and heat I felt any time I was confronted with the stark contrast between her and me. Her success. My inertia.
She wasn't perfect, of course. She looked tired, lately. Too many all-nighters. She used to be radiant, glowing, bright-eyed. Now she just looked… burdened.
And yet, she kept checking on me.
I looked at her again. This time, not as someone I wanted something from, but as someone I owed everything to.
My NEET lifestyle wasn't sustained by some genius stock pick or a miraculous game launch. It was propped up by our parents' misguided hope and Jimin's soft, reluctant generosity.
I didn't earn this room. Or the meals I ordered. Or the electricity I used to watch anime at 3 a.m. while pretending I had goals.
And what had I given in return?
A monthly lie. An empty promise to "get serious soon."
Some "genius little brother" I was.
I thought about getting up. Grabbing the bottle of water from the fridge and giving it to her. Maybe saying something sincere for once.
But I just sat there. Still. Heavy.
Maybe I was afraid she'd see right through it.
Maybe I was afraid she wouldn't.
When I finally moved, it was to grab a blanket and gently drape it over her. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't stir. I tucked the edges in awkwardly.
It felt too intimate. Too foreign.
Then I stood there, like an idiot, unsure what to do next.
My gaze dropped to the onahole on the floor — limp, lifeless, somehow more grotesque now than ever before.
A mirror of everything I'd become.
It was meant to be a joke. A release. Something to plug the hole that nothing else seemed to fill. But now, with Jimin sleeping five feet away from it, it felt obscene. Not because it was sexual, but because it reminded me how far removed I was from being a real person.
When was the last time I touched another human being and didn't feel ashamed?
I picked up the onahole and shoved it under the bed.
As I did, my own reflection flickered briefly in the dark windowpane. Pale. Slouched. Mouth slightly open.
A caricature of a man.
I sighed and sat back down.
What was I even chasing?
Dopamine? Connection? A sense of being seen?
In this small apartment, everything I wanted was simulated. Fast food that tasted like comfort. Content that felt like intimacy. Toys that mimicked touch.
But none of it made me whole.
I looked at Jimin again.
She could've given up on me. Should've. And yet she didn't. Why?
Was it pity? Was it guilt? Or was it because she remembered a version of me that didn't exist anymore?
I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes.
Maybe tomorrow I'd start small.
Not a job app. Not a gym membership.
Just… cleaning my room. Buying real food. Texting our parents back.
One act of reality.
Maybe.
I don't remember when I fell asleep, but when I opened my eyes, it was morning. The sun had turned the room into a furnace. My neck ached. The blanket was folded on the corner of the bed.
Jimin was gone.
A post-it was stuck to the fridge.
"You were snoring like a bear. Left early for work. Buy soap. - J"
I stared at it for a long time.
Then, for the first time in a while, I opened a notepad on my computer and started typing.