Paint It Like You | Woo Do Hwan

Apprehension

The soft amber glow of the city streetlights seeped into the modest apartment, casting faint shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Do Hwan stood by the slightly open window, a cigarette loosely clasped between his fingers. The bitter December air crept in, mingling with the faint hum of the bustling city streets below. Brussels was alive, its echoes filling the night—the distant hum of cars, muffled laughter from passersby, and the occasional bark of a stray dog. Yet, all of it felt distant, as if he were trapped in a bubble, untethered from the city's vibrant life.

Do Hwan's fingers trembled slightly, not from the cold, but from the relentless weight of exhaustion that had wrapped itself around him like a shroud. He had barely slept since Eo Jun had come home from the hospital. His son's fragile state demanded constant attention, every cry or twitch sending pangs of fear through him. He lifted the cigarette to his lips, taking a slow drag as the nicotine burned in his lungs—a small solace in a life otherwise devoid of comfort.

His thoughts drifted back to the attack. The jeering laughter of the youths, their cruel taunts as they cornered him with Eo Jun strapped securely to his chest, still haunted him. The fear that coursed through his veins that day was unlike anything he'd ever felt—not even during his daring escape from North Korea or the harrowing nights spent hiding from Chinese authorities. It wasn't his safety he feared; it was Eo Jun's.

The soft, broken cry of his son jolted him from his thoughts. He cursed under his breath, tossing the cigarette out the window and quickly shutting it, locking out the chill. The city's noise faded behind the glass as he hurried to his room where a small crib sat beside his bed. Eo Jun's tiny face was scrunched up, his fists flailing weakly as his cries grew louder.

Do Hwan scooped him up gently, cradling him against his chest. "Shh, it's okay, Eo Jun-ah. Appa's here," he whispered, bouncing lightly on his heels. The crying softened slightly, though his son's face remained flushed with distress.

He checked the diaper first—dry. Then he felt Eo Jun's forehead, relief washing over him when it felt cool. "Hungry, huh? Alright, let's fix that."

He carried Eo Jun to the small kitchen, one arm supporting the baby while his free hand grabbed a pre-prepared bottle of breast milk from the fridge. Elise, had helped him set up a pumping routine before Eo Jun came home, patiently guiding him through each awkward, painful attempt. He placed the bottle in a pot of warm water on the stove, bouncing Eo Jun lightly as they waited.

"Not much longer, sweetheart," he cooed, pressing a kiss to the baby's soft head. Despite the months of stress and fear, Eo Jun's presence filled him with a love so fierce it was almost unbearable. Every time he held his son, he felt a glimmer of hope—a reminder of why he fought so hard to stay in Belgium.

Once the bottle was warm, he sat on the worn couch in the living room and began feeding Eo Jun. The baby's small mouth latched onto the bottle eagerly, his tiny hands gripping Do Hwan's thumb. As the quiet sucking sounds filled the room, Do Hwan's thoughts drifted to the future.

The sound of the apartment door opening pulled him from his thoughts. Elise stepped inside, her arms full of grocery bags. She was a petite woman with a sharp wit and an infectious laugh, but her expression tonight was serious.

"You're still up?" she asked, setting the bags on the counter. "I thought Eo Jun would have you out by now."

Do Hwan smiled faintly. "He had other plans."

Elise crossed the room and peered down at the baby. "He looks better today," she said softly. "His cheeks are filling out. That's a good sign."

Do Hwan nodded, though worry still gnawed at him. "I just hope... I hope I'm doing everything right."

"You are," Elise said firmly. "You've been through hell, Do Hwan, and you're still standing. That's more than most people could say."

He swallowed hard, her words both comforting and overwhelming. "Thanks, Elise. I don't think I could've done this without you."

She waved him off. "You'd do the same for me. Besides, I'm not the one doing the hard part—you are." She hesitated, then added, "Speaking of hard parts... I heard about another protest happening downtown tomorrow. Anti-immigrant group. You might want to stay home."

Do Hwan's jaw tightened. "I'll keep that in mind."

After Elise retired to her room, Do Hwan sat alone on the couch, Eo Jun in his arms. The city lights outside seemed dimmer somehow, the world beyond their apartment cold and unwelcoming. But as he looked down at his son, a small spark of determination ignited within him.

"Whatever it takes," he whispered, pressing his lips to Eo Jun's forehead. "I'll keep you safe. I'll give you a life worth living."

Outside, the echoes of the city continued, indifferent to the quiet vow made in a modest apartment on the outskirts of Brussels.

~

When the baby finally drifted to sleep, Do Hwan returned to his small bed and lay down with Eo Jun nestled beside him. He placed a protective hand on the infant's chest, feeling the faint rise and fall beneath his palm.

"You've been through so much already," he whispered, stroking the baby's soft belly in slow, soothing circles. "But I'll make sure you're safe, no matter what. That's a promise."

He stared at the ceiling, his mind a tangle of memories and fears. The Belgian government had finally granted him refugee status, but his path forward remained uncertain. Elise, his roommate and only friend, had been a lifeline in many ways, but he knew he couldn't depend on her forever. Though he had work,  he needed more money, his own place to live—anything to give Eo Jun a chance at a decent life.

The sound of bells chiming from a nearby church tower marked midnight. The city outside had begun to settle, the streets growing quieter as the revelers and wanderers returned home.

Do Hwan sighed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would bring another set of challenges, but for now, he had his son safely by his side. That was enough.