Annyeongz One-shots

121.Finally Home

The call didn’t end immediately.

No one wanted to be the first to let go.

Yujin stayed pressed against the railing, the offshore wind biting through his uniform as he listened to the small chaos on the other end. Arthurs was still hiccupping softly now, no longer full-on crying, but clinging to Kyzer like letting go would make Yujin disappear completely.

Yujin swallowed hard.

“I’ll talk to him,” Kyzer said suddenly, voice calm but firm.

There was a soft shuffle, and Yujin could tell Arthurs had been carefully moved closer again.

“Dada…” Arthurs sniffled, smaller now, more tired than angry.

“Yes, baby,” Yujin answered immediately.

There was a long pause on the child’s side, like he was trying to gather all his broken feelings into words too big for him.

“You come tomorrow?”

Yujin’s chest tightened painfully.

He looked out at the dark water. Endless. Unmoving. Time didn’t work the same way out here.

“I can’t come tomorrow,” he said gently.

Silence.

Then a tiny broken sound again.

Yujin closed his eyes.

“But,” he continued quickly, softer, steadier, “I will come home soon. I promise.”

That word—promise—meant everything out here. Too much and never enough at the same time.

Arthurs didn’t answer right away. Instead, Yujin heard Kyzer again, quieter now, speaking just for him.

“He’s not lying,” Kyzer told his brother softly. “He always comes back. Remember last time?”

A small pause.

Then Arthurs whispered, barely audible.

“…cookie truck?”

A faint, broken smile tugged at Yujin’s lips despite everything.

“Yes,” Kyzer said. “He brought you that ridiculous cookie truck toy.”

Yujin let out a low breath, almost a laugh but not quite.

“I still don’t know why you wanted that,” he murmured.

That made Arthurs finally make a tiny sound that wasn’t a cry. More like a weak giggle trying to exist again.

On the other side, Wonyoung finally spoke, voice softer now that the worst wave had passed.

“He’s been waiting by the door since morning,” she said quietly. “Every time the elevator moves, he thinks it’s you.”

Yujin’s hand tightened around the phone again.

That image hurt in a different way.

Not loud pain.

Quiet pain.

The kind that stayed.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time it wasn’t just for being gone.

It was for all the moments he couldn’t step into.

Wonyoung didn’t reply immediately.

And in that silence, Yujin heard her breath shift slightly.

She was trying not to cry.

He knew her too well.

“You don’t need to keep saying sorry,” she said finally, voice careful. “Just… come back safe. That’s enough.”