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The world changed the day the gates opened. The world as everyone knew it was over. Disaster struck. People died. Sung Suho wasn't special – many people lost fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters.
The difference was that those people knew who took their loved ones. Knew how they died. Suho didn't. His parents just vanished – disappeared into thin air. Gone. Search as he might; he couldn't find answers.
Suho returned home that day to an empty home. He hadn't known that morning, as he left for school, that it was the last time he'd see his mother. She had been standing behind the kitchen counter, smiling at him as he packed the food she'd prepared for him and left. He hadn't known to stop and savour the image of her – her messy ponytail, her warm smile, her kind eyes. He hadn't known to give her a hug before he left. He hadn't known.
His father had been long gone by the time Suho left for school; he'd been working a case that had him out early the past few days. The last Suho had seen him was the night before when he'd popped into the lounge to say goodnight before bed: His parents had been watching something on TV, his mother's head on his father's shoulder, his arm around her. He hadn't stopped to think, This is the last time I'm seeing my dad. This is the last time I'm seeing my parents together.
You'd think that, with his father being a detective, Suho would live in a constant state of fear, wondering if his dad would one day not come home. If police officers would show up and tell them his dad was killed in action. And for a time, he had. But there was something about his mother's unwavering faith in his dad. Some rock solid conviction that he'd be okay, that nothing would hurt him, that no one could take him away from them. Suho had been young, but his mother was his everything. If she said his dad was always going to come home to them, he believed it. That belief stayed with him even when he grew up – even now, when he knew that no human was untouchable. That things happened. Accidents happened.
But now? His dad didn't come home. His mother was nowhere to be seen. Suho spent hours – days – weeks – looking. He searched everywhere. He went to the precinct, to his father's good friend and boss Woo Jin-chul. They had, of course, already been looking into the abrupt and mysterious disappearance of his parents. But he asked them again nonetheless. Demanded information. The chief was forthcoming, thank God, even though they didn't have much more information than Suho did. Suho didn't know what he'd have done if everyone refused to tell him anything, though. Probably break down and cry. The search was the only thing driving him.
After that, he scoured the internet. Looked up gates. Survivors, those killed in action, civilian deaths. Disappearances. News reports. Police reports. There were dozens upon dozens of people who found loved ones, either dead or alive. There was so much of information, everything documented. But there was nothing about his parents. Absolutely no sign of them.
Suho's mind spiralled. They wouldn't have left. Right? Not both of them. Not either of them. It just couldn't be. They'd never do that.
"Did my dad come in to work the day he disappeared?" he asked Woo Jin-chul the next day.
The chief sighed wearily, bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept a wink the past two days. "No."
"No?"
He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. His hair seemed to have gone even more grey since Suho was here a day ago. "He requested the day off. He had something to take care of."
A crack formed in Suho's unshakeable resolve. He had something to take care of? What? Was it coincidence that it was on the same day that he disappeared?
Suho checked the security footage once he was back home. There was his father, leaving the house to go to work. Apparently not. Suho had thought he'd left early as usual because of the case he'd been working. But where was he going if not to work?
He watched the rest of the footage, eyes glued to the screen for hours on end. He didn't want to fast forward or increase the speed in case he missed anything. But no, there he was, coming back from school. That was the next time he saw activity on the cameras after his father left. His mother never left the house. How did she disappear if she never left the house?
There was a knock on the door. Suho startled; he'd been so absorbed in watching the recorded feed that he hadn't heard a car pull up in the driveway. He checked the live feed, seeing his aunt and uncle at the door. Right. They'd been checking in on him regularly, sending messages or making phone calls when they couldn't come in person. He glanced at the time; it was dinner already? How had the day passed so quickly?
His Halmeoni and Halabeoji, too, had come over yesterday, insisting that he come stay with them instead of in this big empty house. But Suho couldn't do that. What if there was something here that he missed? What if one of them came home and he wasn't here?
He knew they didn't argue because they were mystified too. They wanted to find out what happened to their son and daughter-in-law just as much as he did. If anyone could understand why Suho wanted to remain here, they could.
He opened the door, seeing his aunt and uncle with arms laden with food. He stepped aside to let them through, and suddenly the air felt somber, heavy. Suho had been running on questions and adrenaline ever since he came home to an empty house. Now, with as many answers as he could have, with the surveillance feed covered, with gate survivors and deaths combed through...what was left? What more could he do?
His Gomo turned towards him after setting the food down on the table. Her arms were outstretched, her smile soft and sad, and her eyes welled with tears even as she tried desperately to hold them back. It cut through all the defenses that had kept Suho going. His expression crumpled, and he squeezed his eyes in an effort to stem the tears. He was enveloped in his Gomo's arms before he knew it, feeling small and held together even though he was bigger and taller than her, and he felt his Gomobu's arms surround both of them.
He didn't know how long they all stood there, trying not to cry because none of them wanted to accept their reality; crying anyway because the reality was that the house was empty and no one could find out anything even though it'd been two days already. At some point they broke their circle and sat down to eat, the food now lukewarm. Suho chewed mechanically, because that's what he had to do. He made conversation absently, because that's also what he had to do. And he convinced his aunt and uncle, at the end of the night, that he'd he fine alone at home, don't worry about me, I'll be okay.
"Okay," his Gomo said, because this was a conversation they had every time they called and asked if Suho didn't want to stay with them at least for a little while. She studied his eyes nonetheless, probably checking for herself if he really would be okay.
Suho didn't know, honestly. Maybe he'd be okay for now, when all he wanted was to find them. But he'd never spent so much of time alone before. He was used to coming home to his parents, knowing they were there. Maybe he'd feel alone eventually. But – that was the thing. Suho didn't want to accept that this was going to be a thing for a while...or forever. He refused to accept that his parents weren't coming home. They were. He wouldn't be alone long enough to start feeling lonely. They wouldn't do that to him.
As time passed and no more answers came, Suho was eventually convinced to let himself be looked after. He stayed at his Halmeoni and Halabeoji sometimes, or sometimes they came over. He didn't want to intrude on his Gomo and Gomobu, what with them both being busy people with demanding jobs, so he went over for meals at their request. He checked in regularly with his dad's boss Woo Jin-chul, but the chief didn't have any more information. He kept in touch with Suho probably as a courtesy, or because he worried for his friend's son now alone in the world, but he had nothing more to tell Suho.
And Suho? Well, life had to go on. At some point he went back to school. He graduated, and his Halmeoni and Halabeoji came in place of his parents. He chose a university he spoke to his parents about, and by that point he'd stopped sleeping over at his grandparents so often. He couldn't keep intruding on them, after all.
Life crawled on. Suho kept coming back home to an empty house, and the hope that one day it wouldn't be slowly dwindled.
And somewhere out there, his mother was alive, wondering at the well-being of her son. Wondering if he was okay, hoping he hadn't shed too many tears for them.
And somewhere out there, his father had no idea his son was alone in the world. As far as he knew, his wife was with him, taking care of him. He didn't worry too much about disappearing – Suho would undoubtedly have questions, but he'd understand eventually. With this in mind, he could fight the war in space without worry, not knowing his wife had also mysteriously disappeared, not knowing his son would go two years without answers.
He did spare a thought for his sister and his parents – he knew the sudden disappearance would affect them, and they'd grieve as if suffering a loss. There wasn't much he could do about that, though, so he tried to block it out. Win the war, and go back home. That was all he could do.