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It was a lazy Sunday, the rain tapped gently against the window of their living room. It was already evening, despite the gloomy weather outside, the room tells a different story.
The room glowed with a mellow, orange warmth. The lights spilled across the room in gentle strikes, painting everything in slow, honeyed tones.
The album creaks open like it hasn’t been opened in years, that’s because it hasn’t.
It’s thick and awkward on Daeho’s lap, the plastic sleeves inside slightly yellowed with time. The kind of thing you only open on days when the sky is grey, and your heart is a little softer than usual.
Beside him was Namgyu with a blanket covering his legs, head laid gently on Daeho’s shoulder, his eyes relaxed.
Daeho flips the first page. “I would’ve known you keep your childhood pictures in your apartment,” Namgyu says, his voice low with amusement.
Daeho lets out a soft chuckle but didn’t say anything.
There’s a photo of Daeho at four years old, dressed up in a school outfit with a pair of vibrant yellow straps resting on his shoulders, his tiny fingers tugging slightly onto one of them.
His cheeks are chubbier so the huge smile on his face couldn’t be mistaken, glistening under the bright sun. His fringe fell just above his eyebrows, trimmed neatly and out of the way. His free hand showing off a peace sign to the camera.
Namgyu burst into laughter, “That’s you?” patting his finger against the sealed photo as he pointed at Daeho’s chubby face. “You look so round!”
Followed by Daeho’s laugh, “Yeah. Getting seconds during meal time was my favorite part of the day, y’know?” he quips, a smile tugging at his lips.
There’s a pause, the kind that doesn’t feel awkward—just natural. Daeho hummed, “If I remember correctly, one of my sisters or mom had put a quote at the back of this photo of me.” he gently and carefully drags the photo out of its plastic sleeve.
And Daeho was right, there’s something written at the back of the photo when he flipped it. ‘1991 March 11, Kang Daeho’s first day of preschool. He looks so happy!’ Written in Hangeul—neat and clean, it’s his mom’s handwriting.
Daeho chuckled in surprise, “I was right!” showing what it says to Namgyu, he squinted his eyes as he reads. “Wah, 1991? I wasn’t even born yet.” Namgyu comments, his smile clear in view.
Namgyu took the photo in his hand, his eyes lingering on Daeho’s adorable smile, he could still recognize his smile even with his chubby cheeks.
“You look really adorable in this.” Namgyu softly smiled, voice dropping to a whisper, his head leaning closer. Daeho scoffs, almost proudly, “You haven’t seen my other photos yet.”
Daeho placed the photo back into its sleeve before turning another page.
Daeho looked bigger in this photo, he’s playing the game of Gonggi with his all four of his sisters, crammed together around a table. The image is grainy but the expression on their faces stay bright.
The edge of Namgyu’s lips seemed to have curled up, “Aw, this one’s cute.” his voice soft.
Daeho laughs sheepishly in an attempt to hide the way his cheeks are heating up from embarrassment, his eyes lingered on the photo, “This was the very first time I managed to get all stones in my hand.” he says as his head tilted slightly, a melancholic feeling bloomed in his chest while he stares fondly at the picture.
He chuckled silently when he eyes his 9 year old self having that huge, toothy smile on his face, “I was so happy, but I remember my sisters being happier.” His voice came out in a murmur.
It’s clear Daeho holds this memory very dearly.
Namgyu hummed in interest, chuckling a bit when Daeho mentioned his sisters being happier than he was.
“I’ve always wondered what it’s like to have siblings,” Namgyu says, his lips pouting slightly, “too bad I’m an only child.” his voice a tad childish.
Daeho took his eyes off the picture to steal a glance at Namgyu, “We could pay them a visit sometime.” he suggests, his head tilts the other way and lands on Namgyu’s head resting on his shoulder, his tone sincere and gentle.
Namgyu took some time to reflect, “You sure they wouldn’t mind?” despite the slight innocent question, both of them knew what Namgyu meant.
His question floated in the air for a moment before Daeho faintly scoffs, “C’mon, I know my sisters. I’m sure they’d understand.” eventhough his voice was meant to tease, there’s something softer beneath his tone.
Daeho’s affirmation made Namgyu beam, to the point he swiftly lifted his head just to look at Daeho. “Bet.” His eyebrows were raised in a brief moment as his smile grew wide before he laid his head back onto Daeho’s shoulder.
Daeho didn’t even had time to say anything at Namgyu’s sudden childish behavior.
“What is up with you today?” Daeho shakes his head, Namgyu didn’t give him an answer and Daeho didn’t need one.
Daeho silently thought about bringing out the photo to see if there’s anything written behind it, and so he did. “What’re you doing?” Namgyu asks.
“Seeing if there’s something written behind this photo.” And Daeho answers, turns out he was right once again.
‘1996 May 6, Our Soho’s first win in Gonggi. So proud of him!’ Written in Hangeul, alongside a small heart drawn next to it. The writing smooth and unmistakable—it’s one of his sisters’.
Namgyu squinted his eyes, not by initiating to read but by confusion. He lifted his head once again to look at Daeho, “Soho?” he had a curious expression on his face.
Daeho did that same thing when he was trying to cover his embarrassment, “Yeah, that’s what my sisters call me when I was a kid.” he sheepishly laughed. “Since ‘So’ means little while ‘Ho’ means tiger.” He quietly explained.
Namgyu took a moment for Daeho’s clarification to sink in before grinning ear to ear, “And here I thought you were the corny one in your family.” an eyebrow was raised as he teased.
Daeho scoffed and rolled his eyes, there’s an obvious grin on his face. “Don’t act like you’re not fond of tigers too.” He says sarcastically, hinting at the fact Namgyu has a tiger tattoo on his upper arm.
Namgyu did a half-smile while humming softly, as if thinking of something, “But I’m definitely more fond of this one!” he suddenly poked Daeho by his cheek, catching him off guard.
“Wha—” Daeho blinked once, then twice. He looked at Namgyu in confusion.
There’s then a moment of silence between the two of them, Namgyu stared at Daeho with a huge grin while Daeho continued to stay silent, still utterly stunned as he tries to process what just happened.
With little to no context, Namgyu bursted out laughing and knocks himself onto Daeho’s shoulder.
Daeho didn’t say anything, just as confused as ever. Namgyu’s sudden laughter was contagious enough to make Daeho smile, despite still feeling a tad puzzled.
“Sorry, it’s just your face. It’s too funny.” Namgyu excused his behavior after he calmed down, still having that excess dopamine boost. His head seemed to have lingered on Daeho’s shoulder after the commotion, clinging onto him and closing in the space between them.
Daeho hummed vaguely before he puts the photo back into its sleeve.
The few pages go by with laughter and occasional teasing. Photos of scraped knees, Daeho in school uniforms two sizes too big, a class photo where his eyes were shut mid-blink.
Then there’s an entire page that makes them both go quiet.
One whole page dedicated to when Daeho was in the Marines; during the Marine Corps graduation ceremony, to be precise.
In one of the photos, shows Daeho at 21 years old, standing in full uniform, buzz cut, black beret on his head. Both his parents at his sides—his mom smiling with glee on his right while his dad’s expression stays unreadable on his left.
And Daeho isn’t exactly smiling, but he’s not frowning either. Just a quiet look. Like someone who’s holding everything together because that’s what’s expected of him now.
“You don’t look too happy.” Namgyu comments, it came out a bit harsh but it’s nowhere far from the truth.
Daeho let out a humorless chuckle, staring at himself but can’t fully recognize who he is in the picture. “I was 21 here. During my graduation ceremony.” He mutters.
However, him not smiling in the photo isn’t the problem; there’s a different photo of him in the same setting—this time with four of his sisters.
He’s smiling ear to ear, eyes squinting as he shows off his pearly whites to the camera, a huge bouquet of flowers cupped in his hands, beret no longer visible on his head.
“You’re so cheerful with your sisters here, though.” Namgyu pointed at the picture. “Who knew you could pull off a buzzed haircut.” He tries to lighten up the atmosphere.
Daeho smiled, though it didn’t quite reached his eyes.
“Wanna check if there’s anything written on this picture?” Namgyu asks, one finger tapping on the one with Daeho and his sisters.
Daeho hummed in agreement, he drags the photo out of its sleeve gently and flipped it to see.
’2008 October 13, Soho Kang Daeho at his Marine Corps graduation ceremony. Keep up the good work.’ The writing harsh and blunt, written in all black—it’s his dad’s.
From the looks of it, it seems that one of his sisters initially was the one writing until their dad took over and wrote the quote entirely.
Daeho stilled when he recognized the handwriting. His smile falters, but didn’t fall completely.
“…This is my dad’s handwriting,” He finally says, his voice came out quiet and small. He swallows hard, and his jaw begins to tighten.
Namgyu glanced up at Daeho from his shoulder. Daeho didn’t look back at him, eyes still stuck on what was written. Namgyu stayed quiet and watches as Daeho’s smile drop by every second.
“He didn’t even write congratulations.” Daeho’s voice wasn’t anywhere above a whisper, as if muttering to himself.
Then, he shook his head frantically to get his mind off of it, “I mean—I already knew that.” he vaguely clarifies, or more so—denies. “I already knew he wrote that.” He gaslights himself he was already aware his dad wrote that about him, despite it being far from the truth.
Daeho feels a sudden uneasiness when one quote singlehandedly ruined his mood. “Y’know what, it’s fine—we can stop here. It’s a waste of time going through my childhood pictures, anyway. I should’ve just—”
Namgyu didn’t buy all that. He slowly raises his head with a concerned look on his face, “Daeho,” he calls out, to make him stop spiraling, his voice low and worried, his hand subconsciously reaching for Daeho’s.
And it worked—Daeho abruptly stopped. He noticed the way Namgyu’s eyes were piercing into his, worry written on his face. Daeho let out a staggering breath, he swallows the lump in his throat. “…Sorry,” He managed to mutter out.
Namgyu didn’t deny Daeho’s apology, instead he held Daeho’s hand tighter, just firm enough to let him know he’s there with him.
His body moved closer, “You don’t have to talk about it,” his hand never leaving Daeho’s. “but you don’t have to pretend, either.”
Namgyu is aware that Daeho is never on good terms with his dad, nor even his self-respect.
Daeho exhales shakily, his eyelids wetting with tears, he looked at Namgyu once, just a brief glance.
“When I first found out I’m like this, the first person I thought of was my dad.” Daeho finally said, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought of how he’d react. What he’d say or do.” His jaw tightened for a second.
Namgyu examined Daeho carefully, eyes darting. He didn’t dared to say anything, he didn’t push, instead he let Daeho voice out his feelings.
Daeho sniffed before continuing, “Then, I thought of my mom.” he briefly paused, “After that, my sisters.” his voice a meek murmur, barely audible.
Namgyu had stopped looking at him, head leaning slowly against his shoulder, closing in every space between them.
“Thinking of my sisters was also a part that hurt the most.”
Silence begin to settle in, Namgyu glances back at Daeho, eyes wide and affectionate, “Your sisters love you. Y’know that, right?” he lightly nudged Daeho with his elbow.
Daeho didn’t answer, he steals a glance at Namgyu, his expression unreadable.
“Even you yourself, told me that you know they wouldn’t mind when you’re like that. That’s how much they love you.” Namgyu continued, his voice soft.
Namgyu watches as Daeho’s expression softens bit by bit, “And who else loves you as much as your sisters do?” a small smile creeps up on his face.
Daeho finally looked at Namgyu, his eyebrows are no longer furrowed, and his eyes are no longer narrowed or filled with subtle tears. Just a soft, slightly curious expression. Waiting patiently for Namgyu’s answer.
Namgyu’s smile widens, “Me, of course!” his voice came out in a giggle.
Daeho finds himself forming a smile at the way Namgyu answered his own question. A small laugh escapes him, “Since when do you know how to comfort?” he teasingly asked.
Namgyu beamed, “From the guy whose sisters called him Soho as a kid, of course,” he says, his voice sounding proud and warm.
Daeho scoffed lightly, “Are you gonna start calling me that now?” he retorts, his eyes squinting and his smile growing bigger.
Namgyu pressed his lips together, humming as he thinks of an answer, “Maybe. At least for the next two weeks.” he quipped playfully.
Daeho grinned, his eyebrows furrow teasingly, he lightly pinched Namgyu by his thigh under the blanket, “Sure you will,” to which Namgyu yelped in surprise at his sudden gesture.
Silence settled again, soft but full. Then, Namgyu gently reached forward for the picture that was still in Daeho’s hand to place it back into its sleeve.
Afterwards, he flipped the page, “Let’s keep going,” he suggests. “if you want.”
There’s hesitation in Daeho’s body language. After some time, he gave in and nodded.
And so they did. Slowly, and carefully. They kept turning the pages, Namgyu’s hand resting lightly against Daeho’s leg, Namgyu leaning a little closer than before. The air wasn’t heavy now, just quiet and warm.
By the time they reached the end of the album, the photos from when Daeho was in the Marines felt a little further away. And that was more than enough.