Every October, Yeosang hallowed out enough time in his schedule to spend a few days with his uncle.
He couldn't always visit on the twelfth, like when last year his daughter had gotten reprimanded at school for punching a boy who tried to kiss her (an action Seonghwa treated the family to ice cream over), but Yeosang always tried.
He would learn so much about Jongho over those days. The first year, San, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa all came, too. The latter two coming on and off in the following years as well.
This year would mark Yeosang and Yunho's fifteenth anniversary of the tradition.
Yunho always drew visitors in, it was the way he spoke, the way he wove stories, it was like Jongho was alive.
He was Uncle Jongho, now, when being spoken of by the family. And Yunho was blessed to, every October, relive and share the moments and memories of their life.
Three years back, the whole Park family came over, but after that hurricane only the oldest Park daughter returned next year. She, too, wanted to learn the stories.
It was October again, October ninth, and Yeosang was at a writing workshop. While teaching, he received a call. He ignored it, of course.
The call next came to Seonghwa who was staying home with their newest arrival.
When Seonghwa answered the phone, and the caller spoke, Seonghwa began to cry.
"Papa?" Came a worried little boy's voice. And Seonghwa smiled, picking the child into his arms. "Papa, what's wrong?"
Seonghwa sniffled, looking into his new son's eyes. It had only been two weeks since the little one came, and Seonghwa took off work for the first month, just like he had years back for the arrival of their other two children.
"Jongho-ah, don't cry." Seonghwa began and the little one looked at him with such empathy it made him want to cocoon the child for eternity. "It's one of your uncles, the one who lives far away. . . You've never met him."
When the little boy still looked at him, confused, Seonghwa tried to explain. "He went to go be with your namesake, Jongho. Uncle Yunho did something today called dying."
Seonghwa knew that Souls were mated for life, for all of life. So he wasn't sad for Yunho, quite the opposite, actually; but he was sad for the ones who remained without his wisdom. For Jongho who had never heard his stories, never listened to his morals. For Wheein who was too small last time to sit still, and for Hwasa, the oldest, who was only just beginning to love Yunho as one of her own.
"Jongho, I need to put you down, but Papa is okay. He just needs to call Appa." But the boy held on tight with quivering lips to his new father. Seonghwa picked up the phone as the little one clung to his neck.
As the line rung across the miles, he tried to think happy thoughts.
"Seonghwa? What's up? I'm in class." He heard Yeosang's slightly annoyed voice on the other end and smiled.
"APPA!" Jongho yelled into the phone but Seonghwa quickly shushed him.
"Yeosang-ah," He began as softly as possible. "It's about Yunho. I know you're at the workshop but can you please come home? Can't you skip just the last day?"
Hearing Seonghwa's tone, Yeosang's heart spiked. He waved over an assistant to the front and walked to an empty conference room.
"Seonghwa," he was firm. "What about Yunho?"
YOU ARE READING
Moral of the Story || seongsang · 2ho
Fanfiction"Yeosang," Yunho starts, "I would give anything to go back and tell Jongho to come to me, to tell him I forgive him and love him, that I was never even upset with him. So go to Seonghwa. Now." °°° "Do you love him?" Yeosang looked up, shocked. "I- o...
