Clack, clack.
I stopped fiddling with the cube mid-twist. It felt like far too much time had passed since the day I’d promised Min Yugeon we’d see each other again.
“Why are you out here all alone, Suho?”
A shadow fell over my head, followed by a voice I wasn’t unfamiliar with. When I looked up, Ji Chanwoo was peering down at me with a puzzled expression. I guess it was the first time he’d seen me just sitting in front of the house like this—it seemed like he’d come to check on me.
“……”
When I woke up from my nap, neither Mom nor Dad were around. They must’ve gone down to the basement. I had been reading alone but got bored, so I came out here. I didn’t feel like talking, so I just kept toying with the cube in my hands. I wasn’t the type to answer easily when it came to adults I wasn’t close with.
“Hm.”
Ji Chanwoo studied my face for a while, then suddenly plopped down next to me. The synthetic grass sank beneath his weight without resistance.
“Wanna hang out with me if you’re bored?”
“No.”
“Mm. Straight to the point, huh.”
Without a word, I continued twisting the cube. Ji Chanwoo watched my hands for a moment before casually speaking again.
“My son likes cubes too.”
“……”
“Since he’s almost always lying down, he says playing with a cube is the easiest and most fun thing to do.”
My hands stopped before I even realized it.
“He said it was hard at first, but after keeping at it, he got better. I bet you’ll get the hang of it soon too, Suho.”
He held out his fist like he was cheering me on. There was a faint shadow behind his smiling face, one he couldn’t quite hide.
After a brief pause, I set the cube down on my lap and bumped my fist against his.
“…Why is he always lying down?”
“Huh?”
Ji Chanwoo blinked, then quickly caught on that I was talking about his son. “Ah,” he murmured.
“He’s really sick. They say it’s hard to cure.”
As I stared quietly at the bitter smile on his face—
“Suho! Suho?”
It was rare to hear Mom’s voice that loud.
When I turned my head, I locked eyes with her just as she came out the front door. The anxiety and worry on her face slowly melted away.
“There you are, sweetheart! I got scared when I didn’t see you inside.”
She rushed over in big strides and scooped me up into her arms. Then, she exchanged a glance with Ji Chanwoo and gave him a small nod.
“Thank you for staying with him.”
“Not at all.”
“Would you like to come in for some tea…?”
Ji Chanwoo declined with a smile, saying he had to get back to his post. Mom gave a polite dip of her head and turned away, still holding me close. I could feel his gaze on us for a long time as we headed back into the house.
“Mom.”
“Hm?”
“……”
I was going to tell her about Ji Chanwoo—but changed my mind.
“When are we going to Yugeon’s place?”
“Yugeon’s?”
When I nodded, she tapped her lips with a thoughtful look.
“Oh, right. We did say we’d go. Want me to call them now?”
***
“I thought I’d see you at school. Since we’re starting soon.”
Min Yugeon spoke as he sat down on his bed. I’d been curiously checking out his room, practically wallpapered in block towers, but now I turned my attention to him. I’d been growing by the day too, but he looked like he’d grown an entire head since the last time I saw him.
“Sorry. I couldn’t come on my own, you know.”
I gave a short reply as I perched beside him. Min Yugeon shrugged.
“I know. I’m not blaming you. It’s my mom and dad who didn’t invite you on purpose.”
What was that supposed to mean?
As I stared at him with a puzzled look, Min Yugeon suddenly lay back on the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, then stilled. His face, now devoid of any playful mischief, looked even younger.
“Mom and Dad have been fighting ever since that day. The day we went to your house.”
“…They’re fighting?”
I pictured Min Sanghan and Lee Minha talking just outside the room—likely having a conversation with my mother and father. When they welcomed us earlier, there hadn’t been even a hint of tension between them.
Was the smile on both their faces entirely fake?
“They didn’t always fight. But…”
Min Yugeon paused for a second.
“Now they’re just angry every single day.”
“……!”
“It’s weird.”
He curled up, murmuring under his breath.
“I thought if I behaved, maybe everyone would feel better… maybe they’d stop fighting. So I started studying really hard, but… nothing changed.”
I looked down at him, curled up like a ball. It wasn’t just his height that had changed. The bright, easygoing aura he used to have had dimmed noticeably.
I recalled that subtle clash between Min Sanghan and Lee Minha during our last visit—the cold tension that had briefly surfaced between them. But for Min Yugeon, that chill wasn’t momentary. It was his every day.
In such a suffocating environment, it was only natural for him to feel unstable like this.
My lips parted slightly. I had no idea what to say. What if the words I chose just ended up hurting him more?
“……”
“……”
I slowly lay down so I was facing him. When I gently wrapped my hand around his tightly clenched fist, I felt some of the tension ease from his grip.
“Mom keeps telling Dad he needs to let go of his greed.”
His nose was starting to turn red.
“She says family should come first.”
“Yeah.”
“But Dad still comes home late every day. He’s almost never home. And even when he is, all he does is make me study.”
“…Yeah.”
I kept nodding and replying quietly. His big, round brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Whenever Mom fights with Dad, she tells me she’s sorry. But Dad… he just gets mad at me too, for no reason.”
I gently patted the back of his hand, clumsily mimicking what my parents did whenever I seemed upset.
As he accepted my awkward comfort, Min Yugeon’s lips began to tremble. He soon burst into loud sobs. Even so, he kept mumbling between hiccups… but honestly, I couldn’t understand a word of it. His speech was completely jumbled.
I glanced between his tear- and snot-covered face and the door. No one seemed to have heard him, or at least no one came.
Eventually, the crying died down.
Min Yugeon began to hiccup, rubbing his eyes furiously. I gently took his arm and pulled him back, then went to grab some tissues to wipe his face. His skin was flushed with warmth.
“That must feel unfair.”
“It is unfair.”
“And it hurts.”
“It does hurt.”
Even though we were the same age, the way he repeated my words through a stuffed-up nose made him seem younger. His tear-drenched face, once so quick to grin, looked painfully fragile.
“What if you said that to them?”
“…Huh?”
His wet eyes blinked at me. I gave his shoulder a pat and continued.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, so why are they taking it out on you? You’re not their punching bag. You feel hurt and frustrated, and you should say so.”
A kid didn’t need complicated words to call out something unfair. Just honestly expressing the emotions and questions they felt inside was enough.
And since I was just a kid too, this was the only simple way I knew.
“Have you ever told them?”
“……”
He shook his head. That surprised me. I thought for sure he would’ve snapped and yelled something like, Why are you doing this to me? at least once.
Then I remembered the way he’d just silently watched when Lee Minha and Min Sanghan were locked in that cold war of nerves.
…Right. It’s not easy to speak up. Even quiet scolding from adults is intimidating. So how terrifying must it be to face an adult already consumed by emotion?
“I’ll try.”
But Min Yugeon clenched his fist like he’d made up his mind.
“I’m not a punching bag.”
“No. You’re not.”
“I’m not a punching bag.”
He repeated it clearly, like someone who’d never been hurt at all, his eyes shining with resolve. I reached out to gently dab at the corners of his eyes.
“Thanks.”
His eyes sparkled as he looked at me, looking cleaner now even though they were still puffed up from all the crying. Maybe it was because he’d finally let go of those painful emotions—his face seemed lighter, freer.
“I don’t like Dad… but I’m glad I got to meet you because of him.”
He sniffled and grinned.
“……”
Blinking, I subtly averted my gaze and slipped off the bed. After throwing away the used tissues, I picked up the bag I’d brought with me and returned to Min Yugeon. His eyes immediately drifted to the bag.
“Huh…?”
When I pulled something out and handed it to him, his eyes widened.
“For me?”
“Yeah.”
It was a return gift for the cube he’d given me last time. Mom and Dad had helped me carefully choose it, but to be honest, it hadn’t been a difficult decision. I already knew what Min Yugeon liked.
“Whoaah.”
He hadn’t even seen what was inside yet, but his face lit up as he began to tear off the wrapping. When the toy inside was revealed in full, he froze for a split second—then looked like he might pass out from happiness.
“Seo Suho! It’s the spaceship set!”
He shouted my name so loud in excitement that I flinched. I watched as he eagerly dumped the blocks out onto the floor without hesitation. I hadn’t expected such an explosive reaction.
The “spaceship set,” a model you could assemble based on the structure of an actual ship, was the longest-running creation by the ship’s only toymaker. Since there weren’t many children on board, only a few units had been made—it was hard to get your hands on one. But the day we visited the toy store, they’d just happened to have one on display. That timing played a big role in our decision.
“I really, really wanted this. Dad said he’d get it for me if I got a perfect score on my first test after I started school, so I’ve been waiting for it.”
He rattled off the explanation like he was rapping. His face was lit up with joy, bouncing on his feet as if he’d never shed a tear earlier. It was kind of amazing to see.
Anyway, it was a relief this wasn’t already one of the many block toys filling his room.
“Just look at what it looks like when it’s done. It’s so cool.”
He spread out the instruction booklet and held it out for me. I stared at the image in silence. To assemble that massive, majestic structure from all those tiny pieces… it was going to take serious patience and brainpower.
Eyes gleaming like lasers, Min Yugeon read the instructions with awe, then suddenly looked up at me.
“Wanna build it together?”
He looked like his hands were itching to get started right away.
“You do it. I’ll just watch.”
“Okay!”
The moment I said that, he began weaving through the scattered blocks, confidently sorting the pieces like he already had a system of his own. I quietly settled nearby, secretly impressed. He didn’t seem to mind being watched—in fact, he was focused with laser-like intensity.
Of course, we didn’t manage to complete it that day…
But watching how happy Min Yugeon was the entire time, I couldn’t help but feel quietly proud.
