Legend [YEONBIN] ✓

sixty-one ; soobin

I wondered if someone’s brain had ever broken out of their skull. Because even as the fog of sleep still sat over me, I was sure this was going to happen to me. The pounding behind my eyes made it almost impossible to open them. And when I tried, I immediately shut them again with a moan.

“I see the alcoholic is awake,” Yeonjun said from the bedroom doorway. “Oof, and you look awful.” He seemed particularly pleased about this fact.

I succeeded in opening only my right eye to glare at him. The sun blazed through the windows, exacerbating my headache.

“Haven’t you ever heard of curtains?” My voice sounded like gravel scraping over a pumice stone.

“Yes, but I also don’t drink two bottles of soju by myself.”

“Was it only two bottles?” I mumbled, closing my eyes again and pulling up the covers. “I could’ve sworn it was a hundred.”

“Nope, you’re a lightweight. Deal with it.” Yeonjun yanked the blankets away ruthlessly, earning a whimper from me.

“Come on, I made bugeoguk,” Yeonjun said, too cheerful for my liking.

I finally smelled the savory scent of the soup and sat up with my eyes still closed.

I followed him out to the living room. The night before, I hadn’t noticed the space, but it looked exactly the same as I remembered. The low, lumpy couch, begging to be sat upon. The kitchen nook was small, perhaps with more dirty dishes than before. Bookshelves still littered with picture frames. And bujeoks fluttering like bright yellow flags along the door frame.

I sat at the low table, weathered and well-used. It held two bowls of pollack soup. I let the steam hit my face.

“Best cure for a hangover,” Yeonjun announced. Dipping a spoon into my soup, he lifted it to my lips. I slurped up the salty broth obediently. It was a good balm for my sore throat.

“I never knew you could cook.” I took the spoon from him and scooped up more soup eagerly.

“I’m more than a pretty face.” Yeonjun winked.

“Oh good, I see your old sense of humor is intact.” I scowled, but inside my heart swelled.

Yeonjun chuckled and started to eat. On the couch was a crumpled pile of pillows and blankets. He must have slept out here and given me his room.

His hair was a mess and his cheek was creased from the pillow. There was a hole in his shirt and his pants were frayed at the hem. He still had a sleepy look in his eyes, but he’d woken up early enough to prepare a whole meal. In this moment, he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen.

“Thank you.” I couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Sure thing,” he mumbled, obviously embarrassed at my sudden attention.

“Is it weird that I missed this place? Even though I’ve only been here once?” The words were out before I thought them through. And with them I remembered what had happened the last time we were here. On the very same couch he’d slept on. A flush rose up my cheeks.

Yeonjun coughed nervously, making it clear his brain had gone to the same memory.

“It’s weirdly normal to have you here.” He spooned up another bite. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I can leave . . .”

“No, stay. I think it’s time we can let the past be the past. I can’t stay mad at you forever. I actually realized this because of Taehyun. Who’d have thought?”

“What did he say?” I didn’t like the idea of feeling gratitude toward Taehyun, but I had to admit the dokkaebi was fairly persuasive.

“He made me realize I couldn’t blame you for loving your mother. I love my halmeoni. I’d do anything for her. And you’d do the same for Ara. I can’t be mad at you for listening to her and leaving. I think it was just an excuse, really. When you’re so used to people leaving, you start to think something might be wrong with you. It was easier to be mad at you than to feel like I wasn’t good enough yet again.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I was saved from having to reply by the ring of Yeonjun’s phone. His eyes moved from the screen to me, and I knew who was calling.

“Answer it,” I told him.

He swiped the screen. “Hello?”

Yeonjun listened a moment, his lips pursed in concentration. He answered only in a series of yeses and nos. Which frustrated me with its vagueness.

Finally, Yeonjun placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “He wants to come over.”

My first inclination was to say no. To say he’d had nineteen years to come see me. I opened my mouth to say so. “Yes.”

Yeonjun hesitated, his brows lifting for final confirmation.

And I paused as well. Did I want to see my father? He’d left me before I could even know him, but he’d looked at me yesterday with such yearning. The look I’d probably dreamed of seeing a dozen times without realizing it.

Yeonjun waited patiently, watching me with understanding eyes. I knew I’d regret it if I refused him.

I nodded, sure of myself now. “Tell him to come over. I want to see him, too.”