Chapter 10!

An Yujin was bored out of her head.

The swinging towels and blankets over a thin metal wire over their backyard could only keep her entertained. Despite watching over them like paint drying over a wall, she could only do so much when everybody else but her was outside for the morning.

She didn’t mind staying indoors with everything going down but she thought her time would be better if she didn’t have a list of chores to do. She rolled over to her back, now looking over the strikingly clear blue sky that blanketed over the small town.

A flock of seagulls flew by overhead, squawking along the air in a sound that perfectly captured the vibe of the coastal town.

She sucked on her cheek. “Those look dry enough.” Yujin groaned, sitting up from the table where she laid down. She approached the clothes draped over the thin wire before she carefully took them off, placing them into a basket.

Once she was done, she placed them over the table and attended to the other chores she was tasked on doing. One of them was to clean up the dishes that were in the sink. She went into the kitchen, immediately spotting the dirty and food worn utensils and plates that formed themselves a hill.

Yujin grabbed herself a pair of rubber gloves and she got to work immediately. She got started on a plate, washing it clean before setting it to the side. The cycle continued as she washed all of the utensils her members used.

Speaking of them, she wondered how they were doing. They had their own set of activities for the day and she doubted that they knew their way around town to do all of them. They could always ask the people around but maybe that would be the last thing on their minds, considering everything that went down and the circumstances that led them here.

If they did, the people around are surely enough to help them out, maybe one of them even bumped into him already.

A memory of that night flashed over her eyes.

She remembered how the wind grew colder as her eyes locked with his for a brief second. The look on his face was blank and had no emotion. She remembered how her throat choked on seemingly air and how her mind drew blanks on what she could have thought in the moment. What struck her the most was how her subtle attempt at a wave was ignored when he crossed the street.

Half of her heart ached with grief and regret while the other soothed it with her own understanding and empathy towards the man.

CRASH!

Yujin shocked herself away from her own thoughts with the loud sound of a plate falling deeper into the sink. She sighed, placing the sponge down to the side. She looked down and found the water had stopped running but she didn’t remember turning the tap off. She looked at the tap and found it turned to the side, she tried turning it the other way and back on again but with nothing in return.

She leaned down underneath the sink and found the pipes that should be giving it the water for her to wash the dishes but she didn’t know what was wrong nor had any clue on how to fix it and she had no one around to help her. She tried turning on the tap again when she heard an unpleasant sound come from it before the faucet began to shake violently. Before she knew it, water began spewing out in such a force that it bounced off onto her.

Yujin gasped loudly, feeling the cold water. She hesitated for a second before quickly turning off the tap. She let out another heavy sigh, now looking down at her damp clothes. “Just my luck.” She mumbled, taking the gloves off her hands.

THUD!

Her attention turned to the sound of the front door closing. Yujin felt her chest lighten up, thinking that someone had arrived home. She peeked her head from the corner that led to the kitchen and found her mom removing her slippers beside the door.

“Eomma!” Yujin greeted, walking closer to the front of the house with a wide and glad grin stretched on her lips.

“Yujin-ah! Have you started on the cho-what happened to you?” Her mother turned to face her daughter and immediately spotted the water stains on her clothes.

Yujin could only reply with a nervous chuckle. “Eomma, I think something is wrong with the sink.”

“You think? You look like you just got out of a pool! What have you been doing the whole morning?” Her mother scolded.

“I was trying to clean the dishes when the sink stopped working. I tried looking for what was wrong with it before it started spewing water out everywhere.” Yujin explained but she couldn’t raise her tone on her own mother. She guided her to the kitchen where they found the wet floor that Yujin forgot to put a rag over.

“Aish, look at the mess you made. Go grab the mop outside, I’ll try and take a look at it.” Her mother placed her bags on the counter before pointing for her daughter to go out back.

Yujin made her way back out just as her mother crouched down to take a look at the pipes under the sink. She stepped out and spotted the mop that was leaning against the wall. She walked over and grabbed it before she went back inside to find her mother already standing up from the floor.

“Looks like it’s broken or something is wrong with it at least. We could wait for our dad but he won’t be back until late in the afternoon. Should we try and fix it?” Her mom turned to her and asked.

“I don’t mind trying but I’m afraid we’d both just break it further, eomma. Can’t you just ask one of the neighbors to come over and fix it?” Yujin replied with a question of her own.

“We could but hmm…oh I know just the right person to call! Get the dirty dishes in the basin in the backyard, you could wash them with the faucet out there while I try to call him in.”

Yujin didn’t put much thought into it as she watched her mother walk into the living room and pull her phone out of her pocket. She simply shrugged her shoulders, not caring who she called, as long as one of the only sinks in the house was working again. Turning back to the sink where she began to carry the dirty plates and bowls to the backyard.

Her mother stood in the middle of the living room, squinting her eyes as she browsed through the contacts of her phone. She spotted the person whom she thought could lend them a lending hand and pressed to call their number.

“What do I do…”

Lim (YN) walked under the leaves and branches of the trees that lined up the sidewalk. His eyes were glued to the pavement below, focusing themselves on a single pebble that he pushed along with each step.

Ever since he stepped foot outside of the news building, he had been wandering all across town. Wandering through the streets and around the neighborhoods as he thought of the assignment that felt like nobody else could have gotten it except him. He was open to anything with regards to his job, be it a good scoop or maybe just local news but this was something that he didn’t know how to tackle. Not only did he have to get through the hurdle of talking and facing her but he also had to basically play two faces just for them to tell him any information that could be needed. He couldn’t decline the assignment now and he doubted that he was allowed to in the first place.

But then again, he thought it through as a professional. If he places his feelings to the side, talking to her and her group would be no problem but that was only if he could do so, which seemed almost impossible.

The man suddenly kicked the pebble down the empty sidewalk in frustration.

Running his hand through his hair, he took in a deep breath before audibly letting out a long sigh. He knew that there was a clear way through all of this, all he had to do was to find it. Right, that is how he’s supposed to view this.

VRRRRR! VRRRRR!

(YN) opened his eyes to the sensation of his phone vibrating inside his pocket. He felt it over first before fishing it out and looking at whoever was trying to contact him. He couldn’t see the screen properly over the little brightness he had along with the sun streaking through the leaves and shining directly onto his screen. Once he brightened up his screen, his heart seemingly dropped to his stomach.

‘Mrs.An is calling!’

His hand hesitated over the screen but he ultimately accepted the call, curious why she had to call him all of a sudden. A part of him hoped that it was only an accident but he braced for every possible scenario as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hello, (YN)? Are you there?”

“Good morning, Mrs.An. Why did you call so suddenly?” He greeted her, acting cheerful. He looked around the silent neighborhood he was in, taking the time to make sure no one saw his outburst earlier.

“Good morning! About that, I was wondering if you were doing anything at the moment?” He heard her ask, her tone loud and clear through the phone’s speaker.

“Not particularly. Why, do you need something?” (YN) asked, masking the unease twisting in his stomach.

Mrs. An’s relief was audible through the line. “Aha! Just perfect then. Our sink suddenly gave out, and the whole kitchen’s a mess. I thought of you right away. Could you come take a look?”

(YN) pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping in the middle of the street. Of course. Out of every house in town, it had to be hers. “The sink?” he repeated, as if buying himself time.

“Yes. I can’t figure out what’s wrong, and Yujin nearly flooded the place trying to wash the dishes. You know how hopeless she can be with these things.” Mrs. An chuckled warmly.

The mention of her name froze him. His grip on the phone tightened. He saw again the flash of her face under the streetlight a few nights ago — her awkward little wave, the way he’d forced himself to keep walking.

“…I see,” he finally said, keeping his tone clipped.

“You’ll come, won’t you? Just for a quick look. I’ll make you tea after.”

Silence stretched. He could picture Mrs. An’s expectant smile, the kindness she’d always shown him when he was younger — during those years when he had nothing. It was almost cruel to refuse.

“Alright,” (YN) said at last, voice flat. “I’ll be there after picking up my tools.”

“Ah, thank you, thank you. You’re a lifesaver, as always!”

The call ended. He stared at his dark screen for a moment, jaw set.

Helping the town? That was easy. Helping her? That was a whole new kind of dangerous.

Yujin was still outside, crouched near the backyard faucet with a basin full of suds when she heard her mother’s voice through the open window.

“He said he’ll come by soon. Don’t worry, it’ll be fixed in no time.”

Her heart thumped, even before she knew why. “Who’s coming?” she asked cautiously, standing up.

“Who else? (YN). He’s always good with these things, ever so reliable too.”

The mop nearly slipped from Yujin’s damp hands.

“…Oh.” Her voice was small, barely covering the storm rising in her chest.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the wooden porch made Yujin’s pulse quicken. She wiped her damp hands against her jeans, pretending to fuss over the mop even though her mother was already opening the door.

“Ah, (YN)! Thank you for coming so quickly,” Mrs. An greeted warmly.

“Not a problem,” he replied with that practiced politeness he carried for everyone else. His voice was steady, calm. Yujin almost fooled herself into thinking he hadn’t noticed her at all, standing stiffly by the basin outside.

Her mother ushered him in. “The sink’s been acting up. Water spraying everywhere—look at poor Yujin’s clothes!”

At her name, his eyes flicked toward her for a fraction of a second. She swore her lungs stopped working. Then he crouched by the sink without a word, pulling a small tool kit from his bag.

The kitchen filled with the sharp clicks of metal and the soft drip of remaining water. He worked in silence, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing with each turn of the wrench. Yujin shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, feeling like an intruder in her own home.

Mrs. An eventually excused herself to check on the drying laundry outside. “I’ll leave you young ones to it.”

The moment she was gone, the air thickened.

“You didn’t have to come,” Yujin finally whispered, leaning against the doorframe.

(YN) didn’t look at her. “Your mom asked. I couldn’t say no to her.”

Her throat tightened. His words stung more than she expected, even though his tone was calm, almost detached. She watched as he tightened the pipe, testing the faucet. Water trickled out smoothly now, no violent bursts, no sprays.

“There. It should hold.” He wiped his hands on a rag, stood up, and finally turned toward her. His eyes lingered on the dampness of her shirt, the small bruise on her wrist from when the faucet had jolted earlier. His brow furrowed, just slightly.

“Be careful next time,” He said, softer than before. Almost a whisper. Then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again. “Don’t touch the pipes if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Yujin opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wanted to say I missed you, I’m sorry, thank you. But all she could do was clutch the mop tighter and nod.

(YN) slung his bag over his shoulder. “Tell your mom I’ll check back in a week. Just in case.”

“Are you leaving already?”

Their heads turned to her mother who returned from the backyard. (YN) put on a polite smile before nodding his head. “I already fixed the sink, I don’t want to overstay.” He explained.

“Nonsense.” She began, “How about you stay for tea and some snacks? You need all the strength in the world the way you move around town every day.” She shook her head and urged him to sit down.

(YN) chuckled politely, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re too kind, Mrs. An. Really, I can't—”

“Sit.” Her tone left no room for argument. She pulled out a chair and began rummaging through the cupboards for cups and a plate.

Reluctantly, he obeyed, lowering himself into the chair at the kitchen table. Yujin stood frozen for a moment, mop still in hand, then quietly set it aside before she stepped back into the backyard.

Mrs. An set down the tray with a satisfied hum, the clink of porcelain filling the silence. “There we go. Fresh tea, and some cookies I made this morning. You must be tired, (YN), you run around helping everyone, I don’t know how you do it.”

(YN) gave her that small, polite smile again, the one he seemed to save for everyone in town. “It’s nothing, really. People just know where to find me, I suppose.”

“Of course they do,” Mrs. An chuckled, pouring steaming tea into his cup. “You’ve always been that dependable boy. Back when Yujin was—” She stopped herself with a little laugh. “Where is she anyways? She should be here catching up with you.”

From the doorway, Yujin stiffened. She looked around the backyard, trying to find something to do to make herself look busy.

“Ah, it’s fine, Mrs. An.” (YN) reached his arm out, stopping the older woman from standing. “I’m sure she’s busy doing something else, it’s fine.” He continued.

Mrs. An tilted her head, half-skeptical, half-amused at his deflection. “Busy? That girl barely knows what to do with herself in this house after being gone for so long. You’re far too forgiving, (YN).”

He only offered a thin smile, the kind that revealed nothing. Lifting his cup, he let the steam fog against his face for a moment before taking a slow sip. The warmth slid down his throat, but it did little to thaw the tightness coiled in his chest.

From where he sat, the kitchen looked much the same as it always had. The worn checkered curtains swayed with the morning breeze, the wooden table bore the same faint scratches from years of family meals, and the faint scent of detergent still lingered from freshly laundered clothes drying outside.

He remembered sitting at this very table countless times, after school, after soccer practice, after long evenings when laughter spilled into the night. He remembered Yujin leaning over her textbooks here, eyes alight with determination as she practiced choreography in her head while he quizzed her on equations. He remembered her mother’s kind scolding whenever Yujin grew too restless.

And yet, all those memories felt like they belonged to another life. One he had no right to revisit.

“You’ve grown into a fine man, you know,” Mrs. An said, breaking into his thoughts as she passed him a plate of the sweet treat. “Your parents would be proud if they could see you now.”

His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the cup. He bowed his head slightly, murmuring, “You give me too much credit.”

Outside the window, Yujin shifted, her shadow brushing faintly across the light spilling into the kitchen. She was pretending to fold rags near the faucet, but her ears caught every word. The mention of his parents tugged at something deep inside her.

Mrs. An poured herself tea and sighed. “It still feels strange, you know. Having her back here after so long. She looks the same, yet different too. More polished, I suppose. But still the same stubborn girl.”

At that, (YN) set his cup down, his eyes flicking once, instinctively, toward the doorway where Yujin stood half-hidden. For the briefest second, his gaze softened, not enough for Mrs. An to notice, but enough to send a tremor through Yujin’s chest. Then he looked back at the tea, his voice even, steady. “The town hasn’t changed. Coming back must feel…different for her.”

Mrs. An chuckled. “Different, yes. But some things never change. Like how she runs from the table whenever it’s time to sit still.” She shook her head, her tone affectionate. “Why don’t you call her in? She’ll listen to you.”

That startled him more than he let show. His lips pressed together, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He remembered when his voice used to be the one she always followed—when she’d tug at his sleeve, stubbornly insisting he come with her to the pier, to the market, to anywhere she wanted to drag him. Back then, she had always listened.

Now, he wasn’t sure she could bear even hearing him.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble her,” he replied carefully, turning his attention back to the untouched sweets. “Besides, I should be going soon. I promised the editor I’d send over a draft tonight.”

Mrs. An frowned, clearly unwilling to let him slip away so soon. “Always working, always helping. You’ll wear yourself thin, young man.”

But Yujin barely heard the rest of their exchange. She gripped the rag so tightly her knuckles whitened, her breath shallow as if she’d been running. Every word between them twisted into her ribs, the easy fondness in her mother’s voice, the calm reserve in his, the way the two fit together so naturally as though she had never left.

She wanted to step inside, to say something, anything. To remind him she was there. But her legs wouldn’t move, and her voice caught in her throat.

Instead, she slipped quietly back toward the yard, the faint scrape of her shoes on the porch drowned out by her mother’s laughter. She paused by the door, just for a heartbeat, listening to the low hum of his voice mingling with the clink of teacups.

“I think I should get going.” (YN) stood up not long after he finished his cup. “I still have work to attend to.” He bowed politely at the older woman, thanking her for the tea and snacks.

“I see, take care now. You can stop by any time and your little sister is also welcome, I wouldn’t mind cooking up her favorite meals, y'know.” Mrs. An carefully patted his arm before helping him to the door.

Yujin peeked into the empty kitchen before stepping back inside. Her eyes glanced over the plates on the table and the tea before she picked up one of the leftover cookies and bit into it.

“There you are, where were you? I was calling you to come over so you two could catch up. It’s been years since you two properly saw each other. You should at least talk to him a little.” Her mother told her, turning around the corner.

Yujin’s lips pressed together before she looked away. “I was busy…hanging up the clothes.”

Her mother gave her a look, not quite believing her excuse, but didn’t push. Instead, she sighed, gathering the empty cups into the sink. “Busy, hm? You always find ways to keep yourself busy when you don’t want to face something.”

Yujin froze mid-bite, the sweetness of the cookie suddenly turning bitter in her mouth. She set the rest down, her fingers trembling slightly.

“You think I don’t notice?” Mrs. An’s voice was gentler now, but edged with something knowing. “I know it’s difficult. But he’s not just anyone, Yujin. You should—”

“Eomma,” Yujin cut her off, forcing her tone steady. “Please.”

Her mother studied her for a moment, eyes softening with sympathy, then let out a resigned sigh and turned back to the dishes. The sound of water running filled the kitchen, covering the silence Yujin couldn’t bear.

She slipped out again, this time through the front door, where the morning sun spilled silver over the quiet street. She hugged herself, leaning against the wooden frame, her mind replaying every detail, the way his voice stayed polite but never personal, the way his eyes only lingered for a second before retreating, the way her mother’s words drew out memories that were still too raw.

Down the road, she spotted him. (YN) was already walking away, bag slung over his shoulder, his stride unhurried but purposeful. She almost called out. Her lips parted, breath catching in her chest.

But her voice refused to come.

Instead, she watched him get smaller and smaller until he turned the corner and vanished behind the cluster of tiled rooftops.

Her chest tightened painfully, as though the years hadn’t passed at all, as though she was still that girl at the pier watching him walk away with a promise he’d never break, while she carried one she couldn’t keep.

Behind her, the screen door creaked. “Still standing there?” her mother’s voice floated out, matter-of-fact but laced with concern.

Yujin blinked rapidly, brushing her hand across her cheek as though wiping sweat. “It’s warm out here,” she muttered, though the evening breeze had already cooled.

“You’ll catch cold if you keep on watching.” Her mother clicked her tongue, stepping onto the porch. “Come inside. Help me set up the table for lunch before the girls come back.”

Yujin nodded faintly and followed, but not before glancing once more at the empty street. The echo of his presence lingered there, heavy and suffocating, and though her feet moved back into the house, her heart remained caught in the space between what was and what could never be.

And for the first time since stepping foot back in Gyeokpo-ri, An Yujin admitted to herself just how much she had missed him.

(YN) now found himself inside his own home after a brisk walk from the An household. The air still carried the faint chill of the morning, clinging to his clothes as he dropped his bag by the door. His small toolbox was set out on the table, exactly where he had left it earlier, too lazy to put it back on the shelf. A bowl of reheated stew sat nearby, steam already fading, forgotten after a single absentminded stir.

And there, at the center of it all, the screen of his brand-new laptop glowed faintly. It had arrived only a few days ago, still carrying the sterile sharpness of something untouched, waiting to be broken into. The glossy black casing looked out of place among the worn furniture and clutter of his modest home, like a visitor that hadn’t quite settled in.

He hadn’t moved since setting everything down. His eyes fixed on the screen, on the blinking prompt waiting for him.

ENTER PASSWORD:

Hint: Your first love.

The words glared back at him, cruel in their simplicity. He’d set the password on impulse the night he unpacked it, fingers flying across the keys before his mind had caught up since it was also the same password as his last laptop.

Every time he used it, he told himself it was convenient, easy to remember. But now, staring at the words after standing once again in the orbit of the very person he had tried to bury, it felt like some kind of mockery.

His hand hovered over the keyboard, the pads of his fingers tingling with hesitation. The leftover stew sent up one last curl of steam before going still. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the restless pounding of his heart.

Slowly, deliberately, he typed it out.

안유진

(An Yujin)

The screen unlocked with a soft chime. The brightness of the home screen felt harsh against his eyes, but he didn’t blink. He only stared, lips pressed thin, at the reflection of his own tired face in the glossy monitor.

He dragged a hand down his jaw, muttering, “I should change it.”

But he didn’t.

Each moment he’d typed it down, he was given this sour tang on his tongue, one induced by childhood naivety and by memories he pushed to some corner of his mind.

The password still lingered on the screen, soft chime fading into silence. But (YN) wasn’t in his kitchen anymore.

He was back on the pier, years younger, a boy trying to act like a man, sitting beside her as the tide lapped lazily against the wooden beams below.

The sun had been low that day, scattering its orange fire across the horizon. Yujin had been practicing her routine all afternoon in the dusty lot by the noodle shop, hair sticking to her forehead, T-shirt damp with sweat. She was stubborn, always chasing perfection, and when the music on her little speaker cut out, she had dragged him away from his errands, insisting he walk with her to the sea to “cool off.”

Now, sitting there, she was leaning back on her palms, eyes half-closed against the sinking sun. Her sneakers kicked idly at the air. Every so often, she hummed the tune she had just danced to, catching herself on a note and breaking into soft laughter.

“I’m going to stand on the biggest stage one day,"

He suddenly could hear her again, voice carrying over the water.

"Bigger than Seoul, bigger than anywhere. I want people to know my name, even people across the ocean.”

He had laughed at first, but it wasn’t cruel. It was startled, the way laughter escapes when the truth is too much to hold in.

“You really think you can do that?”

She turned to him then, eyes wide, glowing with something he didn’t yet have words for.

“Of course I do. Don’t you?”

The look she gave him, it wasn’t pleading, wasn’t asking for permission. It was fierce, unwavering. She needed no one to believe in her but herself, and yet, she asked him anyway. And that was when it struck him, sharp and sudden.

He did believe her.

He always had.

Something shifted in his chest, subtle but undeniable. He realized, sitting there with the sky bleeding into night and her laughter bouncing off the waves, that his world had quietly bent itself around her without him noticing.

Every errand, every late-night phone call, every time he carried her books or bought her favorite drink from the vending machine, it had never been obligation. It was gravity.

“Yeah.”

He said at last, voice softer than he meant.

“You’ll make it. I know you will.”

Her smile broke wide, radiant, like she’d just won the world. And he thought, maybe she already had.

Back in the present, (YN) opened his eyes. The kitchen light buzzed faintly overhead, his stew long gone cold. But the weight in his chest hadn’t left.

That was the day he realized he was in love with her. And it had been the first of many days he wished he could take the words back, just to keep her by his side a little longer.

His eyes finally moved away from the screen and landed on the clock on the wall. Seeing the time, it let the ticking echo through the kitchen for a long second before he stood up from his seat.

He closed the blank document on the laptop before pushing the screen down. His steps moved around the seat, grabbing his coat and throwing it around him.

The report could be made later, maybe he could busy himself with something outside.

He slipped his arms into the coat, tugging the zipper halfway up as if it could shield him from more than just the wind outside. The stew remained untouched on the table, congealing under the hum of the overhead light, and the laptop sat closed, its glossy surface reflecting the clutter around it. He didn’t bother putting the toolbox away.

The air outside greeted him with a sharper chill than before, one that tugged at his sleeves and brushed against his neck. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking down the narrow street, head bowed but mind restless. The rhythm of his shoes on the pavement became something steady to cling to, a soft beat against the thoughts still crowding him.

It wasn’t a long walk to the small home where Seowon’s playdate was held. One of her classmates’ parents, a kind mother with two daughters of her own, had insisted for her to come over and spend the day with her friends.

(YN) recollected his steps to the home where he had left her, passing by leaves on the sidewalk and eventually stopping in front of the tall white fence that covered the front of the home. He knocked on the wood, just as a salty breeze blew by, pushing the ends of his coat back.

Footsteps soon came from the other side before he heard the locks on the gate click open.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to pick Seowon up so soon, (YN)-ssi.” Mrs.Kim said, pulling the gate back and seeing him standing before her with his hands in his pockets.

“I’m not picking her up yet…I was in the area so I hoped to see how she was doing.” (YN) dipped his head down slightly.

“Of course. Please, come in.” The older woman stepped to the side, letting him into the yard. “She’s in the living room with the others. They’ve been busy drawing, singing, running about. I can barely keep up with them.”

From the open doorway, the high-pitched giggles of children spilled out. The sound filled the small yard like wind chimes, clashing together yet still somehow melodic. He leaned slightly, catching sight of Seowon crouched on the floor amid a sea of colored pencils and scrap paper. A crooked paper crown sat on her head, glitter glue still drying. She was showing her drawing to the two other girls, her gestures dramatic, face beaming as though she’d captured the whole world in a single page.

(YN)’s shoulders, tense since leaving his house, eased a fraction. He hadn’t realized how tight his chest had felt until now, watching her so absorbed in her small joys.

“She’s doing well,” Mrs. Kim added gently, as though sensing the unspoken worry he carried. “Your sister’s a bright one. You’ve done well with her, (YN)-ssi.”

He shifted his weight awkwardly, gaze still on Seowon. Praise always sat uneasily on his shoulders. “I’ve just…tried my best,” he murmured.

Mrs. Kim chuckled, brushing her palms against her apron. “That’s more than most can say. She’s lucky.”

At that moment, Seowon finally noticed him. Her face lit up instantly, brighter than the sun dipping low beyond the rooftops. “Oppa!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet. She ran across the room, nearly slipping on a stray crayon, and bolted for the door.

Before he could react, she was already in the yard, launching herself into his arms. He caught her with ease, her small hands clinging around his neck, the faint scent of glue and strawberry jam clinging to her clothes.

“You came back!” She said breathlessly. “Look, I made a drawing of us and the sea! And I was the queen in the game! And—”

He laughed under his breath, a low, tired sound that softened at the edges. “You’ve been busy,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

“Mmhm! And I saved some cookies for you, but I already ate one. Only one,” She confessed, eyes widening with exaggerated guilt.

Mrs. Kim chuckled from the gate. “She’s been waiting to tell you all that, I think. You’ve made her day just by showing up.”

(YN) adjusted Seowon in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist like she belonged there. Maybe she always had. He dipped his head politely to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you again. For letting her stay over.”

“Oh there’s no need for that. I know you’re a busy man yourself so I don’t mind lending you a hand for a change.” Mrs. Kim’s voice was warm, the kind that carried both understanding and quiet sympathy. She glanced at Seowon still clinging to him and shook her head fondly. “Besides, it’s good for the girls. They learn from each other, and she’s been nothing but a joy to have.”

(YN) gave a faint nod, shifting his weight as he let Seowon slide down from his arms to stand on the ground. She tugged insistently at his coat sleeve, bouncing on her toes as if she couldn’t decide what to say first.

“Oppa, come inside! Just for a little, please? I want to show you everything. My drawing, my castle, my new crown!” She lifted the paper crown from her head as though presenting treasure, glitter flakes catching in the fading sunlight.

He hesitated, caught between the instinct to retreat and the pull of her eager face. Mrs. Kim, reading the pause in him, smiled again. “Go on in. I’ll put the kettle on. You look like you could use something warm.”

And so he followed Seowon toward the house, her small hand curled tight around his fingers. The door swung open wider, letting the warmth and noise of the home spill out around him. The living room was a chaos of childhood, blocks scattered in precarious towers, colored pencils rolling beneath furniture, half-finished drawings layered over one another like forgotten leaves.

“See? This one’s us!” Seowon tugged him down to the floor beside her, shoving a paper into his lap. The drawing was crude but earnest, two stick figures, one taller, one smaller, both holding hands by a blue line that could only be the sea. Above them, a bright sun stretched long rays across the page.

He stared at it longer than he meant to, the simplicity of it cutting deeper than the most careful words. “It’s…perfect,” He murmured.

Her grin grew impossibly wider. “I knew you’d like it.”

From the kitchen, Mrs. Kim’s voice called out, “I’ll bring out some drinks and snacks for you and the girls. Stay as long as you like.”

For once, (YN) didn’t argue. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his coat still on, listening as Seowon launched into a breathless recounting of her games, her songs, her castle of blocks that had already toppled twice but would be rebuilt again. And in that noisy, cluttered room, surrounded by scraps of paper and the sound of his sister’s laughter, the heaviness he had carried all day seemed to lift just enough for him to breathe.

.

.

.

The sun was still high when Yujin stepped out of her house, carrying a tray of laundry she’d just finished folding. The cotton shirts and towels were still warm against her arms, their faint scent of detergent rising with every step. She crossed the small yard, setting them on the bench by the fence before stretching her back, letting the sunlight fall across her face.

From where she stood, she heard the fence creak open followed by the collective groans and footsteps of her groupmates. Yujin turned her head over her shoulder and watched them collapse on the platform table under the shade of the roof.

They all fell onto the wood at once—Gaeul face-first into a pillow, Liz sprawling with a dramatic sigh, Rei folding her legs beneath her like she’d been there all morning, Wonyoung stretching out like a lanky cat, and little Leeseo burrowing into the crook between pillows as if the world belonged to her again. The platform table creaked under the sudden weight and the sound of their tired laughter spilled out, bright and ragged.

“Finally,” Liz declared, fanning herself with a program leaflet. “I thought my feet were going to leave a puddle in my shoes.”

“Did someone say puddle?” Leeseo mumbled sleepily, eyes half-closed. “I could fall asleep right here.”

Yujin set the last folded towel down with care, folding the corners twice more even though it didn’t need it. She watched them for a long second, the easy way they slumped, the soft complaints that didn’t get past heroics, and felt something loosen in her chest. For the first time since the reporters and the phones and the bitter, loud headlines, the world felt close to ordinary.

She walked over quietly before taking the space above their heads. Soft footsteps treaded along the grass before Azzo climbed up top to her lap. The girl welcomed the soft dog with a smile, her hand carefully running down its head to its back.

“You guys seem like you had a lot of fun.” Yujin laid down her upper half on the table, just like them and propped her head up with her arm.

Wonyoung lifted her head up, the sweat clinging onto her forehead and the strands of hair that clung onto it. “If you count haggling with old people and walking around in a crowded market, then yes, I had a lot of fun.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. Didn’t you volunteer yourself to do that?” Yujin answered back with an amused smile crossed on her lips.

“I did! But…I wasn’t expecting them to be that hard to haggle with, unlike the people in Seoul.” She explained back, voice weakening.

Yujin laughed softly, the sound drifting over the warm afternoon air. “I suppose stubbornness isn’t limited by city lines,” she said, letting her gaze wander over the jumble of her friends sprawled across the platform. “But you managed, didn’t you?”

Wonyoung rolled her shoulders with a small, triumphant grunt. “Barely,” She admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just thankful that someone came over to help and saved me a couple of Won.”

She raised a brow, “That’s good to hear, must be really reliable if the vendors listened to them, they rarely let anyone convince them for a discount.”

“Yeah, that’s what it seemed. Even got their name right after, it was (YN).” Wonyoung’s lips grew into a smirk Yujin’s eyes widened.

Yujin froze for a heartbeat, her fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the table. (YN). The name carried a weight she hadn’t fully expected to feel so sharply in the middle of a lazy afternoon.

Her heart gave a small, uneven thump, a subtle reminder of the orbit he had always held around her, even now, after all these years.

“Wait…(YN)?” She echoed, her voice quieter than intended, almost to herself. She could see Wonyoung nodding, smirking with an amused spark in her eyes.

“Yep,” Wonyoung said, leaning back with her hands behind her head. “Came all the way to help me, handled the bargaining like a pro. The old lady seemed…well, impressed, I guess. He didn’t even break a sweat.”

Yujin swallowed, a strange mix of warmth and tension coiling in her chest. Her mind flashed briefly to the morning, the soft echo of his voice at the An household, the calm way he had tended to the sink, and the faint, unspoken pause when their eyes had met.

She shook her head subtly, forcing herself to refocus, but the thought lingered like sunlight through clouds.

“Really…he helped?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light, casual, as if she weren’t suddenly aware of the pulse in her ears.

“Of course! He seems really reliable, knows how to handle himself and the people around him.” Wonyoung replied, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“He must be the same person running the flower shop Leeseo and I went into. He arranged the bouquet we bought.”

“Ooh come to think of it, someone did help us when Liz let go of Azzo’s leash and he almost ran away.” Rei chimed in.

“Hey, I did not!” Liz fought back.

“Did to!” Rei shouted back, shoving her side lightly. “Anyways, Azzo must’ve known them cuz he didn’t run away when he tried to pet him. Either that or he had treats in his pocket.” She giggled.

Yujin’s fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the table, her gaze dropping to Azzo curled comfortably on her lap. The dog’s soft warmth was calming, but it couldn’t fully quiet the swirl of thoughts in her head. (YN) had been here, helping, steady, unflappable, and just hearing his name from her friends now made her chest tighten in a way that was entirely familiar and entirely unwelcome at the same time.

“So…he just came by and handled everything?” She asked again, softer this time, as if saying it aloud might make it feel more real.

Wonyoung grinned, nudging Liz with an elbow. “Yep. He’s…impressive. Kind of scary how competent he is. Like he knows exactly what to do, always.”

Leeseo, still half-buried in pillows, mumbled, “I like him, if he’s nice to Azzo.” She looked up and reached her hand out to pet the small dog.

Yujin blinked at the younger girl, surprised by the simplicity of the statement. She managed a small, tight smile. “Yeah…he is.” Her voice felt too quiet, too fragile, and she shifted slightly on the bench, trying to push down the sudden awareness that his calm, reliable presence had left a ripple in her morning.

“Did you know the flower man too, unnie?” Leeseo asked, pushing herself up on a pillow.

“Yeah…you could say that. Just an old friend of mine.”

The words slipped from Yujin’s mouth before she could stop them. Just an old friend. Simple, clean, unassuming. But even as she said it, the phrase felt flimsy, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.

“Old crush might I add.” Wonyoung added, grabbing all of the girls’ attention with shocked gasps and amused faces.

The air shifted with that single sentence. The laughter that had been bubbling up between them moments ago quieted into gasps and muffled giggles. Rei’s eyebrows shot up, Liz nearly sat up despite her exhaustion, and Leeseo’s mouth formed a perfect little “O” as she gawked at Yujin.

Yujin felt the color rise to her cheeks immediately. “Wonyoung,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp, though it only made the others lean in closer.

“What?” Wonyoung replied, feigning innocence, stretching out her long arms as if she hadn’t just thrown the weight of the sun into Yujin’s lap. “You said 'old friend.’ I’m just…clarifying.”

“Clarifying my foot,” Yujin muttered under her breath, one hand instinctively tugging Azzo closer to her chest, as though the little dog could shield her from their prying eyes.

“Oh my god,” Liz breathed, sitting up with wide eyes. “You mean…that (YN)? The same one from all of your stories…” She trailed off, her grin widening mischievously.

Yujin pressed her lips together, her silence enough of an answer to make the group explode into laughter. Rei clapped her hands together dramatically, leaning forward. “Unbelievable! The way you said 'just an old friend’, ah, that was too smooth.”

Leeseo, ever blunt, tilted her head. “So…you liked him? Like really liked him?”

“I was a dumb kid,” Yujin shot back, defensive but flustered. “It doesn’t matter now.” She tried to wave it off, to drown it in casualness, but the heat in her ears betrayed her.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung hummed, smug as ever. “And yet the way you froze when I said his name? Totally still matters.”

“Yah!” Yujin groaned, covering her face with her free hand. Azzo licked her wrist as if in solidarity, which only made the girls laugh harder.

Gaeul, who had been dozing half-asleep until then, cracked one eye open and smirked faintly. “I don’t even need the whole story. If Yujin’s reacting like this, then it’s definitely something.”

The chorus of giggles started up again, weaving between their playful nudges and half-whispered teases. Yujin let her hand fall away from her face, exhaling slowly. She tried to calm her features into neutrality, but her smile betrayed her, small, embarrassed, and impossible to hide.

Just an old friend. That was what she’d said. But as her friends teased and laughed, Yujin realized the truth had slipped through the cracks already. (YN) wasn’t just an old friend. He never had been.

And maybe, standing here under the summer sun with Azzo in her lap and her friends circling her with knowing grins, it was the first time she could finally admit, to herself, if not to them, that the word “old” didn’t mean those feelings had disappeared.

Not yet.

Not ever.

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