Traces and Storms

xvi

   "No dice, huh?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Jongin. Mom told me to celebrate with Myungsoo's family."

"It can't be helped," he sighed, and even though we were talking over the phone, I pictured him pinch the bridge of his nose, while momentarily closing his eyes. "I've to tolerate my sister's nagging, is all."

"You survived more than two decades doing that," I replied. "You'll be just fine."

He chuckled. "Of course. I'll see you around, then."

"Hm. And Jongin?"

"What is it?"

I bit my lower lip. "Thank you."

"For making things easier for the both of us?"

"Yeah."

He laughed. "We helped each other out, Suji-yah. Don't think it's something I can pull off by myself. I'm hanging up."

"All right."

"Take care."

"Take care."

Beep.

-::-

I knocked on Myungsoo's door, and was taken aback upon seeing Sungyeol was the one who opened it. He was already in his pajamas—correction: Myungsoo's pajamas. Even now, I find it amazing, how the both of them became so close, despite having clashing personalities. Though perhaps, their differences served as the glue which made them inseparable. Instead of forming gaps, their contrasting perspectives served as a bridge that gave them this unique connection.

Sungyeol let me in, and the house was filled with the aroma of warm food. I looked around, and before I could even speak, he already answered my question.

"Myungsoo had to take care of something. He'll be back soon."

I looked at him, and nodded, before entering the kitchen to greet his parents. Auntie was standing by the kitchen table, slicing radishes, while Uncle stood in front of the stove, stirring something in a stainless pot with a ladle.

"I'm here," I said, bowing down. When I raised my head, the both of them were already looking at me, smiling.

"It's good you've arrived," Auntie said. "Myungsoo just went out for a bit. He'll return soon."

"Do you need any help?" I offered.

"We'll do just fine," Uncle said. "You kids need some pampering every now and then. Just relax."

"But—"

"Bae Suji," Sungyeol intercepted. "You heard them. Let's go."

"All right..."

Without a word, I followed him upstairs, and we both ended up in Myungsoo's room. It didn't change; the Polaroid pictures were still on the wall; his Mac was turned on, displaying the same wallpaper. Sungyeol grunted as he sat down on the floor. He took the controller, and resumed the game he was playing.

"It's Aunt and Uncle's alone time," he said. "I hope you understand."

"Of course." I sat down on the edge of Myungsoo's bed, my eyes already glued on the projector screen. "They were wearing matching aprons earlier. It's cute."

"Every fiber of their being is cute," Sungyeol replied. "Their relationship may seem ideal, but everything about that is formed in the valley. It's pretty rough and painful behind the scenes."

"What kind of stellar relationship isn't?"

"Hm," Sungyeol nodded. "Good point."

We simply left it at that, but I was aware he knew better. Sungyeol, after all, witnessed that kind of refinement firsthand. His father's disease placed a great strain concerning their lives as family, and yet, they remained steadfast. When I told him he was from a family of fighters, I was genuine at that time. Nevertheless, I could only grasp what I've said to a certain extent. I didn't grow up in a family like Sungyeol's, which hastened his maturity because of their situation. Myungsoo's household was always warm; there was no denying no matter what time of the day it was, someone was bound to greet him the moment he'd arrive home. I was the child who had absent parents. I was the child who got more of what she wanted, instead of what she needed. It was convenient—I wouldn't deny that. Still, it was also by no means lonely.