Clack, clack.
While fiddling with the cube, I suddenly stopped moving my hands. It felt like far too much time had passed since the day I promised Min Yugeon we’d see each other again.
“Why are you out here all by yourself, Suho?”
A shadow fell over my head as a familiar voice rang out. Looking up, I saw Ji Chanwoo gazing down at me with a puzzled expression. It must’ve been strange to see me just sitting outside the house like this, so he’d come to check.
“……”
When I woke up from my nap, neither Mom nor Dad were anywhere to be seen—probably down in the basement—so I had just come outside out of boredom after reading a book on my own. I stayed quiet, fiddling with the cube in my hands. I couldn’t bring myself to answer so casually in front of an adult I wasn’t close to.
“Hm.”
Ji Chanwoo studied my face for a moment before suddenly plopping down beside me. The artificial grass sank under him without resistance.
“If you’re bored, wanna hang out with me?”
“No.”
“Ooh. That was firm.”
I stayed silent, turning the cube this way and that. Ji Chanwoo watched my hands move for a bit, then quietly opened his mouth.
“My son likes cubes too.”
“……”
“Since he mostly just lies down all the time, he says playing with a cube is the easiest and most fun thing for him.”
Without realizing it, my hands froze mid-turn.
“At first he said it was hard, but after sticking with it, he got better. I bet you’ll be solving it in no time too, Suho.”
He held out his fist, like a cheer of encouragement. His smiling face couldn’t completely hide the shadow in his expression.
After a brief pause, I placed the cube down on my lap and bumped my fist against his.
“……Why does he lie down all the time?”
“Huh?”
Blinking in confusion, Ji Chanwoo soon realized I was asking about his son and let out a small “Ah.”
“He’s really sick. They say it’s hard to fix.”
As I stared at his bitter smile—
“Suho! Suho?!”
—my mother’s voice, louder than usual, called out.
I turned my head and met her gaze as she stepped out through the front door. The look of alarm and anxiety on her face quickly melted into relief.
“There you are, sweetheart! I got scared when I couldn’t find you inside.”
Striding over in large steps, she scooped me up into her arms. Then she exchanged a look of thanks with Ji Chanwoo.
“Thank you for keeping him company.”
“Not at all.”
“Would you like to come in for tea…?”
Smiling, Ji Chanwoo declined, saying he needed to return to his post. Nodding gently in understanding, my mother turned around with me still held tightly in her arms. I could feel his gaze lingering on us for a long while as we headed back into the house.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“……”
I was about to bring up Ji Chanwoo’s story but changed my mind.
“When are we going to Yugeon’s house?”
“Yugeon’s house?”
When I nodded, Mom set me down in the living room and lightly tapped her lips in thought.
“Oh right, that’s true. We were supposed to visit. Want me to call them now?”
***
“I thought we’d just run into each other at school, since we’re starting soon anyway.”
Min Yugeon said this as he sat down on his bed. I had been curiously looking around the room, which was plastered with block towers, but turned my gaze toward him. I was growing taller by the day, but Min Yugeon had sprouted even more since the last time I saw him—he was now a full head taller.
“Sorry. I couldn’t come by myself, you know.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, I gave a short reply. Min Yugeon just shrugged.
“I know. I’m not blaming you. My mom and dad are the ones who didn’t invite you.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
When I looked at him with a puzzled expression, Min Yugeon suddenly flopped backward. The mattress gave a small bounce, then stilled again, revealing the unguarded face of a boy with no trace of mischief.
“My mom and dad… they’ve been fighting nonstop since that day. You know, the day we went to your house.”
“They’re… fighting?”
He imagined Min Sanghan and Lee Minha just outside the room, talking with his mother and father. When they had welcomed them at the door earlier, there hadn’t been even the slightest sign that anything was wrong between them.
Were the smiles on their faces all just an act?
“They didn’t not fight before either. But now…”
Min Yugeon trailed off for a moment.
“Now they just yell at each other every single day.”
“…!”
“It’s weird.”
He curled up into himself as he muttered.
“I try to behave really well, thinking maybe that’ll make everyone feel better… that maybe they’ll stop fighting if I do. So I’ve been studying hard… but it’s the same.”
Looking down at him all curled up like a ball, he realized that it wasn’t just Min Yugeon’s height that had changed. That naturally bright energy he used to give off was now noticeably dimmed.
He recalled the tense standoff between Min Sanghan and Lee Minha during their last visit. That cold tension—Min Yugeon had been living in it every single day. No wonder he’d become so anxious in that stifling atmosphere.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no idea what to say. What if anything he said just made it worse?
“……”
“……”
Lying down to face Min Yugeon, he slowly reached out and gently held the fist that had been tightly clenched. He felt the boy gradually relax his grip.
“Mom keeps telling Dad to let go of his pride.”
Min Yugeon’s nose was turning red.
“She says family should be the most important thing.”
“Yeah.”
“But Dad still comes home late every night. He’s hardly ever home, and even when he is, all he does is make me study.”
“…Yeah.”
He kept nodding as he listened, and Min Yugeon’s round, deep brown eyes started to well up.
“Mom always says sorry to me after she fights with Dad, but Dad just gets mad at me for no reason.”
He gently patted the back of Min Yugeon’s hand, awkwardly mimicking the way his own parents would comfort him when he seemed upset.
Min Yugeon began to sniffle and pout, then finally burst into loud sobs. Even while crying, he kept trying to talk, but honestly, his words were so jumbled it was impossible to understand a single one. He glanced between Min Yugeon’s tear- and snot-soaked face and the door. Strangely enough, no one seemed to hear the crying or come check.
Eventually, the sobs subsided. Hiccups started as Min Yugeon rubbed fiercely at his eyes. He gently grabbed the boy’s arm to stop him and brought over some tissues to wipe his face. His skin radiated warmth from all the crying.
“That must feel so unfair.”
“It is unfair.”
“And really upsetting.”
“It’s upsetting.”
Even though they were the same age, hearing him speak in that nasal, congested voice made him seem younger—like a little brother. The face that used to be so full of playful smiles was now drenched in tears, making him look pitiful.
“What if you told him that?”
“…Huh?”
His wet eyes blinked at him. He gently patted the boy again and spoke.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, so why is he getting mad at you? Tell him that you’re not someone he can take his anger out on. Tell him it’s unfair, and that it hurts.”
When a child points out something unjust, there’s no need for fancy words. Just expressing their feelings and questions honestly is enough.
As a child himself, that was the only solution he could think of—simple and sincere.
“Have you ever tried saying that?”
“……”
Min Yugeon shook his head. It was unexpected. He’d imagined he would’ve at least shouted once, demanding to know why he was being treated that way.
Suddenly, he remembered the way Min Yugeon had silently watched the cold war unfold between Min Sanghan and Lee Minha.
…Well, yeah. Of course. Even adults who scold you quietly can be scary. Standing in front of an adult overflowing with emotion must be absolutely terrifying.
“I’ll try.”
But Min Yugeon clenched his fist, as if steeling his resolve.
“I’m not a punching bag.”
“Yeah. You’re not.”
“I’m not a punching bag.”
His voice was firm and clear, as though all the hesitation had melted away. His eyes lit up again. He gently dabbed at the corners of those eyes.
“Thanks.”
Now relatively cleaned up, Min Yugeon looked at him with bright, sparkling eyes. Though they were swollen from crying so much, his face had a freshness to it—like the weight of all those negative emotions had finally lifted.
“I still hate my dad… but I’m glad I got to see you because of him.”
Sniffling, he gave a wide, toothy grin.
“……”
Blinking slowly, I glanced away from him and climbed down from the bed. After tossing the used tissues, I grabbed the bag I’d brought with me and returned to Min Yugeon. His gaze immediately shifted to the bag in my hand.
“Wha—huh…?”
When I pulled the item out and held it toward him, Min Yugeon’s eyes widened.
“You’re giving this to me?”
“Yeah.”
It was a gift to return the favor for the cube he had given me last time. My parents had helped me seriously consider what to choose, but honestly, knowing what Min Yugeon liked made the decision an easy one.
“Wowww.”
Even though he hadn’t yet seen what was inside, his entire face lit up as he began tearing through the wrapping paper. When the toy was revealed in full, he stared at it, stunned—then looked like he might pass out from sheer happiness.
“Seo Suho! It’s the ship set! Holy crap!”
Apparently overwhelmed, he shouted my name at the top of his lungs. I flinched at the sudden outburst and watched as he eagerly dumped the blocks out with zero hesitation. I hadn’t expected this big of a reaction.
The “ship set,” a toy modeled after the general structure of a space vessel, had been crafted by the ship’s only Toymaker after countless hours of meticulous work. Since there weren’t many kids aboard the ship, only a limited number had been produced, making it notoriously hard to get. But by sheer luck, when our family arrived at the toy store, one had just been put out on display—perfect timing that played a big part in the gift decision.
“I wanted this so bad! Dad said he’d buy it for me if I got a perfect score on my first test after I started school, so I was waiting for it.”
Min Yugeon rambled like he was rapping, face glowing with excitement as he bounced around. It was hard to believe this was the same kid who’d just been sobbing minutes ago.
In any case, thank goodness this wasn’t already buried somewhere among the endless block toys scattered around his room.
“Look at what it looks like when it’s finished. It’s so cool.”
He handed me the instruction sheet, spread open to display the completed model. I stared silently at the image. Assembled from a ridiculous number of tiny, intricate pieces, the ship was undeniably grand—and looked like it would take absurd patience and brainpower to build.
Min Yugeon, eyes now sparkling like he was absorbing beams of pure light, glanced up from the instruction manual and turned to me.
“Wanna build it together?”
He clearly couldn’t wait to dive in—his fingers twitching with anticipation.
“You do it. I’ll just watch.”
“Okay!”
The moment he heard my response, Min Yugeon dove into the pile of blocks, effortlessly sorting them according to his own logic as if he’d done it all before. I quietly settled nearby, quietly impressed. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by having someone watch—his focus was intense, almost frightening.
Of course, we didn’t manage to finish the build that day… but just seeing Min Yugeon so happy the entire time left me with an unexpected feeling of pride.
