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Chapter Text

Prologue - The Day the World Became Noisy

Morning always arrived slowly in that quiet neighborhood. Sunlight slipped through the curtains, painting soft golden lines across pale walls.

Somewhere, a kettle sighed, followed by birdsong that blended with the smell of toast drifting from the Chae family’s kitchen. Their front yard was wide and tidy, bordered by low fences and flowers that were just learning to bloom.

Next door lived the Do family, whose porch was lined with pots of rosemary that released their scent whenever the wind passed. Two houses, two families, and one daily habit, which was to knock on each other’s doors without hesitation.

That morning, the sky was clear as glass. In a small hospital room, the cry of a newborn rang bright and full of life.

The baby’s hair was a soft shade of pink, glimmering faintly under warm light, and when his eyes opened for the first time, they held a gentle red glow.

“Chae Bonggu,” his mother whispered, her smile full of weary joy.

His father leaned closer in awe. “Look at his hair. Unusual, but beautiful. He looks like a little deer.”

His mother chuckled softly. “Then let’s call him Bamby.”

The baby did not respond, but his tiny hand lifted as if in agreement. From that day on, the house became livelier.

His cries echoed every morning, followed by his mother’s laughter and his father’s attempts at lullabies that never worked. It was as if the world itself learned to speak louder after Bamby arrived.

A year slipped by quietly, like a season changing color without warning. Bamby could now stand on unsteady legs, run without knowing why, then fall again because something else had caught his attention.

In the house next door, another baby came into the world on a bright afternoon. The baby’s hair shone silver on top and black beneath, like a night sky still holding the last traces of starlight.

His eyes were a deep red, warm like a small fire behind glass. The moment he opened them, everyone in the room seemed to lean in, as if the world itself had taken a deep breath.

“Do Eunho,” his father said gently. “His voice is calm, but his eyes are alive.”

His mother straightened the blanket and smiled. “Like winter sunlight. Warm and quiet.”

A few months later, the two mothers met in the Chae living room, each holding a baby. The air smelled faintly of milk and tea.

“Has Bamby started walking yet?” Mrs. Do asked.

“Just a few steps,” said Mrs. Chae. “He is stubborn. He says he can do it by himself.”

“Just like his father,” Mrs. Do laughed. “Look at Eunho. He still rolls around, but he smiles at everyone.”

They placed the babies together on a soft rug. Bamby, now a little over one year old, stared at Eunho for a long time. His pinkish red eyes narrowed, as if deciding whether this new face was a friend or a rival.

Eunho simply looked back, his red eyes bright and curious. His lips curved into the biggest smile he had ever given anyone.

Strangely, Bamby, who never stayed still, sat down quietly. He reached forward and tugged at the corner of Eunho’s blanket.

“He likes him,” said Mrs. Chae with a small laugh. “He did not kick this time.”

“Eunho likes him too,” said Mrs. Do, watching her son coo with delight.

From that day on, whenever the Do family visited, Bamby waited by the door. When Eunho cried, Bamby would stand beside him and shout even louder. For reasons no one understood, it always worked. Eunho’s crying stopped.

“Why are you crying too?” Mr. Chae asked one afternoon.

“I am helping,” Bamby said with his little serious face.

His father laughed until his shoulders shook. “Helping or competing?”

“Helping to compete,” Bamby answered proudly.

Their bond grew in a strange but beautiful way. When Bamby turned two, he began to speak more clearly and his energy doubled. Eunho, barely one, followed him everywhere, his steps unsteady but determined.

Sometimes Bamby ran through the yard with his stuffed giraffe. Eunho followed, wobbling after him until he fell. Each time he did, Bamby turned around, patted his shoulder, and said,

“Do not cry. The ground was just being naughty.”

Eunho would stop, look up, and smile. That smile, small and pure, would one day become the one thing Bamby could never fight against.

.

One afternoon, when Bamby was three and Eunho had just learned to say his name properly, something happened that made both families laugh for days.

They were sitting on the living room floor. Eunho was holding Bamby’s favorite giraffe plush.

“That is mine,” Bamby said firmly.

“It is mine now,” Eunho replied, shaking the toy gently.

“No, it is not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes, twice.”

Bamby stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the younger boy. “If you do not give it back, I will tell your mom you told a lie.”

Eunho hugged the giraffe tighter. “I did not lie. I love it.”

“You love the giraffe?”

“I love you too,” he said innocently.

Bamby froze. For two long seconds his brain tried to catch up with that sentence. His cheeks turned the same shade as his hair, and he quickly turned away.

“That is a strange thing to say,” he muttered. “You are still a baby.”

“I am not a baby,” Eunho protested. “I am two.”

“You are two but small.”

“You are three but loud.”

They stared at each other, both stubborn, both trying to win. The laughter finally broke when Mrs. Do appeared with a plate of cookies.

“Who wants cookies?” she asked.

Two small hands shot up at the same time.

“See?” said Mrs. Chae, laughing. “Born in different years, but they act exactly the same.”

.

.

As days passed, the two boys became impossible to separate. They grew like two colors blending on one canvas.

When Bamby was four and Eunho three, they created a morning ritual. Every day before breakfast, Bamby stood in his yard with messy pink hair, still in pajamas. Across the fence, Eunho appeared, clutching his milk bottle.

“You are awake?” Bamby asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“I am awake,” Eunho said, taking a sip. “Did you take a bath?”

“Not yet.”

“Me neither,” Eunho giggled.

From their windows, both mothers shared the same tired smile. “I think that fence needs a door,” said Mrs. Chae.

“If we build one, they will switch houses every day,” replied Mrs. Do, sighing, though her eyes softened.

.

The days went on. Two families who were once just friends now felt like one, bound by two children who had learned to find each other long before they knew what the word missing meant.

One night after dinner together, the fathers sat in the living room with cups of tea. The children were asleep, their soft snores drifting from the guest room where they had insisted on sharing one blanket.

“They are funny, are they not?” said Mr. Chae, glancing at the closed door. “It is like they have their own language.”

Mr. Do nodded. “Sometimes I think that even when they grow up, they will still be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Always together, whether they are playing or arguing,” he said with a smile. “Two odd children who do not know how to live apart.”

Mr. Chae smiled faintly. “Then maybe that is how it is meant to be.”

.

The night felt warmer than usual. In the quiet room, two little boys who were too young to understand the word fate slept in the same position, both facing the wall that separated their homes.

Outside the window, the wind carried the scent of damp earth and something soft, like a promise that had not yet learned how to speak.

Tomorrow, their story would grow even noisier.

The sky that once carried only one voice of crying was now filled with laughter, shouts, and arguments without any real reason. Every morning, the sound of their tiny sandals became the neighborhood’s unofficial alarm.

That day, sunlight bathed the small garden behind the Chae house. The sandbox that used to hold flowers had become a kingdom ruled by childish logic. Bamby sat proudly in front of a red bucket, his chin slightly raised.

“This is a castle,” he declared, patting the sand. “I am the king.”

Eunho sat beside him with a small blue shovel. “Then what am I? A prince?”

“No. You are a soldier.”

“Can soldiers sit in castles?”

“Only after they work,” Bamby said firmly.

“What kind of work?”

“Digging moats. So enemies cannot get in.”

“Who are the enemies?”

Bamby pointed toward the fence. “Those ants.”

Eunho stared seriously at a line of ants crawling along the edge of the sand, then nodded. He began digging tiny trenches, humming softly. Five minutes later, Bamby joined him.

Five minutes after that, they abandoned the moats and started building a mountain that kept collapsing whenever they laughed too hard.

As the afternoon sun began to sink, their mothers called out, “Enough for today, come wash your hands.”

“Wait,” shouted Bamby. “The castle is not done.”

“My mountain fell again,” Eunho complained with a pout.

From the terrace, their mothers exchanged amused looks. “Are they building or destroying?” Mrs. Chae asked, trying not to laugh.

“Maybe both,” Mrs. Do replied. “As long as they are happy.”

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Their bond was like breathing, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, but never stopping.

.

.

One humid afternoon, they sat under a tree eating ice cream.

Bamby had grown a little taller than Eunho and decided that meant he should act more mature. He watched Eunho lick his ice cream until it smeared across his nose.

“You are messy,” Bamby said in his best serious tone.

“So are you,” Eunho laughed.

“No, I am cleaner.”

“Liar. What is that on your cheek?” Eunho pointed to a tiny spot of chocolate.

Bamby quickly wiped it away but only managed to smear it more. Eunho burst into loud laughter and almost dropped his ice cream.

“Do not laugh,” Bamby protested. “You will drop it.”

But Eunho could not stop, and sure enough, a drop landed on his shorts. Now it was Bamby’s turn to laugh.

“See, I was right,” he said proudly.

Eunho looked at the stain, then lifted his chin with exaggerated pride. “I still look handsome.”

Bamby rolled his eyes. “You are strange.”

“But you still play with me.”

Bamby glanced at him, pretending to focus on his ice cream. “Because you always come.”

“What if I do not?”

“The fence would be quiet.”

“What if I go far away?”

Bamby stopped chewing. “You cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to help me guard the castle.”

Eunho nodded seriously. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

They both laughed again. The ice cream melted in their hands, but time stood still beneath that tree.

.

.

When they grew another year older, being together became something everyone expected. At five and four, they started to make more friends around the neighborhood, but no matter who joined the games, those two names were always said together.

One afternoon in the Do family’s yard, a few kids were playing catch. Eunho ran and laughed with them, while Bamby sat at the edge, pretending to tie shoelaces that were already tied perfectly.

“Bamby, come play,” Eunho called.

“I am guarding the bags,” Bamby replied quickly.

“The bags are fine, come here.”

“I am guarding the grass.”

“The grass is not going anywhere,” Eunho said with a laugh.

Bamby turned away, but his eyes kept following Eunho’s laughter. When the ball rolled too far, he stood up and walked to the middle of the yard.

“I will play too,” he said flatly.

“Good,” Eunho grinned. “You are on my team.”

“No, I am your opponent.”

“Why?”

“So you do not get too confident.”

The ball began to move again, spinning between small feet and bursts of laughter. Every time Eunho almost tripped, Bamby reached out on instinct to steady him.

“Do not fall,” he said quickly.

“I thought I was your opponent,” Eunho teased, still laughing.

“You are. But opponents can protect each other too.”

The other kids looked confused. Eunho only smiled wider, while Bamby pretended to fix his shoes again.

That afternoon ended with dirty hands and light hearts.

A few months later, the Chae family held a small garden party.

Paper flags fluttered gently in the breeze, a sponge cake sat at the center of the table, and a bowl of fresh strawberries became the ultimate prize.

“Who wants the last strawberry?” asked Mrs. Chae, lifting the bowl.

“I do,” said Eunho.

“Me too,” said Bamby at the same time.

“Then share it,” suggested Mr. Do with a smile.

Eunho picked it up and placed it gently on Bamby’s palm. “For you.”

Bamby stared at the red fruit for a long moment. “You do not want it?” he asked softly.

Eunho shook his head. “I want you to be strong.”

Bamby said nothing, then carefully split the strawberry in half with his small fingers. The pieces were uneven. He gave the bigger one back to Eunho. “Then you have to be strong too.”

Eunho looked at him and smiled. “Okay.”

Their mothers watched from a distance and shared a quiet smile.

“They do not even understand the word sharing, but they already do it better than anyone,” Mrs. Do whispered.

Evening wrapped the yard in a soft orange glow.

After the small party ended, the four parents sat together at the table, surrounded by crumbs and half empty teacups. The laughter of their children still floated in from the yard.

“I do not think they will ever be apart,” said Mr. Do, half joking.

“Probably not,” replied Mr. Chae. “They are like magnets.”

Mrs. Chae looked out the window. “Tomorrow I want to hold a small gathering. Nothing big, just us.”

“For what?” asked Mrs. Do.

“To give a name to this bond,” she said with a faint smile.

Mr. Do nodded slowly. “I like that idea.”

“Tomorrow morning then,” added Mr. Chae. “We will decorate the yard with lights. The kids will love it.”

Night arrived slowly, like a blanket pulling itself over the last line of light. The Chae yard glowed softly beneath the little lamps they had hung earlier.

The wind moved gently, carrying the scent of sugar from the kitchen and the low voices of the adults talking inside.

In the living room, the parents were busy preparing something their children did not yet understand.

A round table stood at the center of the yard, decorated with neatly rolled ribbons, one pink and one silver. In the kitchen, a small cake rested in the refrigerator, waiting to be decorated, as if it were holding its breath for morning.

“Are you sure they do not suspect anything?” Mrs. Do asked while tying a ribbon around a vase.

“They will not,” Mrs. Chae replied. “They have been playing all day.”

Mr. Chae looked up at the tiny lights on the tree.

“Let us keep it simple. We do not need many guests. It is enough if the two of them know that something beautiful will begin tomorrow.”

Mr. Do smiled softly. “They have always looked like they made a promise they have not spoken yet.”

Outside, the two children were still playing in the garden.

The sky had turned deep violet, and fireflies began to appear between the grass. Bamby sat on the porch steps, his feet swinging above the ground. Eunho sat beside him, holding a small flashlight he had found in the garage.

“Look, Bambi. If I point it at the sky, do you think the light can reach?” Eunho asked, shining the beam upward.

“No. The sky is too far,” Bamby replied. “The light only reaches the butterflies.”

“What if the butterflies are high up?”

“Then they will fall eventually.”

Eunho looked at Bamby and laughed softly. “You talk like an old man.”

“I am older,” Bamby said quickly. “By a year.”

“But you are still small.”

“A year is a lot.”

Eunho nodded with a serious face. “So you were born first, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So what did you do before I was born?”

Bamby thought for a moment. “I guess I was waiting for you.”

Eunho looked at him, then smiled. “I think I was waiting for you too.”

Bamby huffed, his cheeks warming. “You are saying strange things again.”

“They are not strange,” Eunho said, staring at the sky. “If I had been born first, I would have waited for you.”

Bamby wanted to answer, but only a small hum came out.

They sat quietly for a while, listening to crickets.

The moon was almost full. The little lights flickered softly, reflecting on Bamby’s pink hair and the dark tips of Eunho’s.

“I want to know what is happening tomorrow,” Eunho said suddenly. “Your mom and mine look so secretive.”

“Maybe they are planning a surprise,” Bamby said with a shrug.

“What kind of surprise?”

“Maybe a cake. Maybe a gift. Maybe something that makes you quiet.”

Eunho laughed. “Then that is impossible.”

Bamby laughed too. “Yes, impossible.”

Their mothers called from inside the house. “Come on, bath time, you need to wake up early tomorrow.”

“What is tomorrow?” Eunho shouted back.

“You will see,” Mrs. Do answered, her voice calm but full of meaning.

The boys looked at each other. “What is tomorrow?” Eunho repeated.

Bamby stood and gently tapped Eunho’s head. “We will find out tomorrow.”

They walked toward their own doors. At the threshold, Bamby turned back.

“Do not stay up too late,” he said.

“You too,” Eunho replied. “But if you do not sleep, I will not either.”

“That is not fair.”

“To be fair, we sleep together.”

Bamby smiled faintly. “You are in your house. I am in mine.”

“That is fine. The wall is close enough.”

They laughed again. Then they went inside. The doors closed softly, but their laughter lingered in the air.

Inside his room, Bamby lay down and stared at the ceiling. Outside his window, the yard lights shimmered like tiny stars waiting for something.

He thought for a while about what might happen tomorrow.

He remembered Eunho’s laughter when the sandcastle fell, and the way the strawberry had been split in two. He felt something warm in his chest, something he could not yet name.

In the house next door, Eunho looked at the night sky from his window. He imagined balloons, maybe a song, maybe something else he did not understand. For some reason, he felt that tomorrow would be different.

Outside, the night kept its secrets quietly. The small lights still glowed. The pink and silver ribbons still rested on the table. The sweetness from the kitchen still lingered in the air.

Tomorrow morning, the yard would become the place where something began. It would not be grand, but it would be enough to change the way two small hearts looked at each other.

For now, the night only wanted them to sleep well. And when the sun rose, their world would be a little brighter, a little noisier, and far more meaningful.

Chapter Text

The Little Engagement Day

Morning arrived softly, carrying the smell of flowers and warm air through the open window.
In the Chae family’s backyard, pink and silver ribbons hung from the branches, fluttering gently in the breeze.

A round table stood beneath the shade of a tree, covered with a white cloth and filled with small cakes, orange juice, and a bowl of bright strawberries that shone under the sunlight.

From the room upstairs, light footsteps ran across the floor.
Bamby had just woken up, his pink hair messy like a bird’s nest. He stared at the mirror, frowning.

“Why do I have to wear this?” he mumbled, pulling at the white shirt with a ribbon on his chest. “It’s not my birthday.”

His mother, standing behind him and fixing his hair, smiled. “Because today is special.”

“What’s so special? It’s not my birthday, and it’s not Eunho’s either.”

Mrs. Chae leaned closer and pinched his cheek lightly. “If I tell you it’s a secret, will you promise not to pout?”

“I’m not pouting,” he said with a tiny huff.

“Good. Then don’t be mad if everyone says you look adorable today.”

“I’m not adorable,” he muttered quickly.

“Of course not,” she teased. “You’re very handsome.”

Bamby looked at the mirror again, trying to make a serious face, but it only made him look rounder and cuter.
He sighed deeply, as if he had already accepted his destiny of being adorable.

Meanwhile, next door, Eunho was already ready. His silver hair, with dark ends curling softly at the back, had been neatly brushed.
He sat on a chair, swinging his legs impatiently.

“Dad, what kind of event is this?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise,” his father answered with a grin.

“Why is everyone keeping secrets today?”

“Because if we tell you, it won’t be a surprise anymore.”

Eunho tilted his head thoughtfully. “If it’s a surprise, it means it’s good, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then can I be excited?”

“Yes, but don’t shout too loud.”

Eunho nodded seriously, then five seconds later ran out the door, already shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Bamby! Bambyyyy!”

Upstairs, Bamby froze. “Why is he yelling this early?”

His mother laughed softly. “Maybe because he’s too happy to see you.”

“I’m not a cake,” Bamby muttered, but his feet had already started moving quickly down the stairs.

When he reached the yard, Eunho was standing there with a huge grin.
“Finally! I thought you fell asleep again.”

“I’m not lazy like you,” said Bamby, crossing his arms.

“I’m not lazy. I woke up first.”

“Then why did you shout?”

“So you could hear me.”

“You didn’t have to shout.”

“But you heard me, didn’t you?”

Bamby opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Just stop shouting.”

Eunho laughed, and for some reason, Bamby smiled too, pretending to be annoyed.

.

.

Not long after, both families gathered in the backyard.

The little lights that had been strung up were still glowing faintly even in daylight.
The parents stood behind the table, their smiles warm and mysterious, which only made the two boys more suspicious.

“Is this a party?” Eunho asked, staring at the strawberries.

“It’s not a party,” said Mr. Do, his tone playful. “It’s something important.”

“If it’s important, why is there cake?” Bamby asked.

“Because important things should also be sweet,” said Mr. Chae, patting his shoulder.

The boys exchanged puzzled looks but still sat obediently in the small chairs prepared for them.
Between them, Mrs. Do placed two small boxes, one pale pink and one silver.

“Can we open them?” Eunho asked with bright eyes.

“You can,” said Mrs. Chae, “but together.”

They opened the boxes carefully. Inside were two small rings made of thread — one pink, one silver.
Not gold, not real silver, just handmade threads tied with gentle care.

“What is this?” Bamby asked.

“It’s a promise,” said Mr. Do softly. “A promise that you two will always be together.”

“Like friends?” Eunho asked.

“More than friends,” said Mrs. Chae.

Bamby looked at the ring for a long time. “What if one day I don’t want to be friends anymore?”

His mother smiled patiently. “You can be angry, you can argue, you can forget for a while. But a promise like this never disappears.”

Eunho looked down at the thread around his finger, then up at Bamby. “So it means we have to stay together?”

“If you want to,” Bamby said quickly, lowering his head to hide his face.

“I do,” Eunho said simply, smiling. “But you can’t be mad all the time, okay?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“See? You’re mad again.”

Bamby puffed his cheeks, while everyone burst into laughter.
Mr. Chae shook his head, smiling. “They really are perfect for each other.”

.

.

After the small ceremony ended, the parents cut the cake and raised their glasses of orange juice to toast the happiness neither child could yet understand.
Meanwhile, Eunho stared at the cake with great focus.

“If I eat the biggest piece, does that mean I’m more mature?” he asked seriously.

“No,” Bamby said instantly. “It means you’re greedy.”

“Then if you eat the smallest piece?”

“It means I’m polite.”

“But you said you don’t like cake.”

“I don’t, but I like winning.”

Eunho sighed, then quietly cut a slightly bigger slice and placed it on Bamby’s plate. “If it makes you happy, you can have the biggest one.”

Bamby stared at the plate, then at Eunho, then back again. “You’re weird.”

“I’m nice.”

“You’re weird but nice.”

“That’s good, right?”

Bamby didn’t reply. He just picked up his fork and started eating the cake, cheeks turning faint pink.

.

The afternoon ended with laughter and the sound of cicadas singing in the distance.
Two little boys sat side by side, pink and silver threads shining faintly under the warm sunset.

They did not understand what it meant yet, but somewhere between the laughter and the crumbs of cake, a promise began to grow quietly with them.

Maybe one day, when they were older, they would realize that the day filled with ribbons, sweets, and silly arguments had actually been the beginning of something much bigger.

A few weeks later, Life returned to normal, yet something felt slightly different.

The ribbons and cake were gone, but the pink and silver threads still stayed on their fingers, unbroken.

Sometimes Bamby touched his thread absentmindedly, as if making sure it was still there.

As summer deepened, the days grew hotter, and the air smelled faintly of flowers.
And then, one morning, everything changed again, Bamby was starting kindergarten.

Mrs. Chae woke him gently. “Come on, sweetheart, today’s an important day.”

“Why do all important days make my stomach hurt?” Bamby muttered from under the blanket.

“That’s not pain, it’s excitement,” she said with a laugh.

“It doesn’t feel exciting.”

After being persuaded with toast and strawberry jam, Bamby sat before the mirror, his pink hair brushed neatly.

The small uniform looked a little too big, and the backpack made him seem even smaller.
He looked at his reflection seriously. “I look weird.”

“You look handsome,” said his mother softly.

“I’m not candy.”

“No, but you’re sweet,” she teased.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, pretending not to care, though the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Outside, Eunho was already waiting by the fence, wearing a blue dinosaur shirt and holding their old giraffe plush.

“You look weird,” he said.

“Weird how?” Bamby glared.

“Like a tiny grown-up,” said Eunho, trying not to laugh.

“I’m going to school,” Bamby said proudly.

“What do you do there?”

“Study.”

“Study what?”

Bamby frowned. “I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”

Eunho grinned. “Then teach me later, okay?”

Bamby tried to hide his smile. “We’ll see.”

.

.

The classroom was bright and full of colors.

Bamby sat near the window, holding a crayon but saying nothing.
He was quiet the whole morning, answering politely when the teacher spoke, but his eyes kept glancing at the door.

When the teacher told everyone to draw their family, Bamby drew two houses side by side, connected by a thin pink and gray line.

During recess, other children ran outside to play, their laughter filling the air.
Bamby stayed in his seat, watching them, unsure how to join in.
He was used to Eunho starting the conversations.

.

When the bell rang, his small legs carried him home faster than usual.
At the gate, Eunho was already waiting, his hands dirty from playing in the garden.

“How was school?” he asked.

“Noisy,” Bamby replied.

“Did you make new friends?”

Bamby shook his head.

“Why not?”

“They’re not like you.”

“Like me how?”

“Noisy, annoying, but fun,” Bamby muttered.

Eunho laughed and pulled something from his pocket — a slightly crumpled candy.
“Here. A reward for surviving your first day.”

“That’s from yesterday,” Bamby said.

“It’s still good.”

“What if I get sick?”

“Then I’ll give you medicine.”

After a short pause, Bamby took the candy and ate it. “Fine.”

“See? You like it.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I said I’m not.”

“You’re smiling right now.”

“Be quiet, Eunho.”

Eunho just laughed, his grin stretching wide.

The following days were all the same.
Every break time, Bamby sat near the window, quietly staring outside.

Sometimes he wondered what Eunho was doing at home. Maybe napping, maybe building another dirt fort, maybe arguing with the ants again. Those thoughts made him want to go home faster every day.

One afternoon, the rain began to fall before school ended. Children were picked up one by one until only a few remained.

When Bamby finally walked home under the drizzle, his small shoes splashed through puddles.

At the gate, he saw Eunho sitting on the porch, holding a tiny umbrella, his hair damp from the wind.

“Were you waiting for me?” Bamby asked softly.

“Yeah,” Eunho said, smiling. “I didn’t want you to get wet.”

“I don’t like the rain.”

“Why not?”

“It makes my hair look weird.”

Eunho looked at him, eyes glinting, then chuckled. “But it looks cute.”

“Do you want me to splash you?”

Eunho quickly raised the umbrella. “No, I don’t!”

Bamby laughed and joined him under the tiny umbrella. Their shoulders brushed, and water dripped from the edge onto their shoes.

The rain lasted a long time, but time itself felt still on that porch.
Two little boys sat side by side, quiet but content, laughing softly whenever thunder rolled in the distance.

Perhaps, without realizing it, that simple wish to come home quickly, to see each other every day was the very beginning of something they could not yet name,
a small, growing feeling that would stay with them for a lifetime.

Chapter Text

Bigger Little, Smaller Big

Spring arrived with gentle rain and the chirping of birds returning to the morning air.
Bamby’s hair had grown a little longer, and he stood slightly taller than last year.
He had just graduated from kindergarten, and today was his very first day of elementary school.

Mrs. Chae patted his shoulder proudly. “My son is an elementary school student now.”

Bamby nodded slowly, trying to hide his smile but failing. “I grow up fast.”

In the living room, Eunho sat on the sofa wearing a wolf-print shirt and a fuzzy wolf hat with ears that moved when he pulled the strings.
His yellow shorts made him look like a little kid ready to perform in a school play.
He hugged a big cushion and stared at Bamby with round eyes full of curiosity.

“You’re really going to school now?” he asked in awe.

“Yes,” Bamby answered, straightening his back. “I’m a big student now.”

“What are you going to learn?”

Bamby thought for a moment, then said in a serious voice, “A lot of things. Math, language, and… the secrets of the world.”

“The secrets of the world?” Eunho tilted his head.

“Yes. Only elementary students know them.”

“Then I’ll know them too someday?”

“When you graduate kindergarten first,” Bamby said proudly.

Eunho immediately sat up straight. “I want to go to school too!”

“You can’t yet. You’re still little.”

“I’m not little,” Eunho protested, pulling the hat’s wolf ears until they stood straight up.

“You are.”

Eunho glared. “You’re little too.”

“I’m little, but a bigger little,” Bamby said with full confidence.

Mrs. Chae, who was watching from the kitchen, chuckled softly. “You two sound like a talk show.”

Bamby was finally ready, his new uniform neatly pressed and his backpack heavy on his shoulders.
Before he left, Eunho stood by the gate with admiration written all over his face.

“Be careful, okay?” he said.

“I’m always careful,” Bamby replied proudly. “And don’t cry when I’m not around.”

“I won’t cry.”

“You’ll be all alone at home.”

“I have Mom.”

“But you’ll still miss me.”

Eunho shook his head hard. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Bamby sighed, though a small smile appeared in his eyes. “Fine. But I’ll tell you all about school later. You have to listen.”

“I will,” said Eunho, nodding eagerly.

As Bamby walked away, Eunho yelled from the gate, “Good luck, Hyung!”

Bamby turned and waved. “Of course. I’ll be amazing!”

The elementary school yard buzzed with laughter and chatter.
Bamby stood at the gate, clutching the straps of his backpack tightly.
The world around him suddenly felt so much bigger than he had imagined.

“Good morning, are you in first grade?” a kind female teacher asked with a warm smile.

Bamby nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Chae Bonggu.”

“That’s such a cute name,” she said brightly. “Come on in, Bonggu.”

Several children nearby turned and echoed, “Hi, Bonggu!” with cheerful voices.
Bamby smiled faintly but muttered inside, Don’t get too friendly yet. I’m not ready for that.

To him, that name was safe. “Chae Bonggu” could be used by anyone.
But “Bamby”?
No. That name belonged only to one person, the boy who always showed up with a giraffe plush and a voice too loud for mornings.

He quickly looked down, pretending to fix his pencil, before the warmth on his cheeks gave him away.
Thankfully, the teacher didn’t ask why his face had suddenly turned pink.

.

.

The classroom was filled with noisy introductions.
Some kids showed off new pencil cases, others shouted across the room to friends they already knew.
Bamby sat near the window, watching quietly. The voices around him echoed faintly, but he couldn’t figure out how to start a conversation.

The boy sitting next to him leaned over. “Hi, I’m Jino. Do you like dinosaurs?”

Bamby turned slowly. “A little.”

“I love them! I have a T-Rex eraser. Wanna see?”

Bamby nodded, looking at the tiny green eraser. “It’s cute.”

“If you like it, I have two. Here, you can have one.”

Bamby’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Jino grinned.

Bamby accepted the eraser carefully, holding it as if it were a treasure. “Thank you.”

Before he could say anything more, the bell rang and the teacher walked in. Everyone hurried to their seats.

“Good morning, class,” she said in a gentle but firm tone. “From today on, you’re officially elementary students. Let’s start by introducing ourselves one by one.”

Bamby looked down, holding the T-Rex eraser in both hands.
One by one, the children went to the front, speaking loudly and proudly.
When it was finally his turn, Bamby stood up slowly.

“My name is Chae Bonggu.”

The teacher smiled. “And what do you like, Bonggu?”

Bamby thought for a moment. “I like drawing… and strawberry bread.”

A few kids giggled softly. The teacher clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful. Welcome, Bonggu.”

Bamby nodded quickly and returned to his seat.
Jino whispered beside him, “You were so cool up there.”

“Cool?” Bamby blinked.

“Yeah. I forgot everything I wanted to say.”

Bamby smiled faintly without realizing it. For the first time that day, he felt a little braver.

.

.

During recess, most of the kids ran outside to play.
Bamby stood by the edge of the playground, watching the sky.
A boy ran past with a ball, glancing his way. “Come play!”

Bamby opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out.
By the time he found the courage, the boy was already gone.
So he sat on a bench, swinging his legs slowly while staring at the eraser in his hand.

Maybe today he hadn’t said much, but that was fine.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would try saying “hello” first.

.

.

When the final bell rang, Bamby ran home as fast as he could.
Eunho was waiting by the gate, holding two popsicles.

“How was school?” Eunho asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“It was fun,” Bamby said proudly. “I made lots of friends.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Lots and lots,” he said without blinking.

“What kind of friends?”

“The cool kind, the funny kind, the smart kind. All kinds.”

Eunho gasped. “I want to go to school too!”

“You will, soon,” said Bamby in his teacher-like tone. “But remember, don’t cry if I’m not there.”

“I won’t cry.”

“If you get scared, just think of me.”

“Okay.”

“If someone bothers you, hit them with a pillow.”

“Okay.”

“And if the teacher asks who you like, say you like studying.”

Eunho looked confused. “Why not say I like you?”

Bamby choked on his popsicle and turned away quickly. “Just don’t say weird things!”

A few days later, Eunho received the news that he would be starting kindergarten next week.
The moment he heard it, he ran straight to Bamby’s house with his new backpack bouncing and his wolf hat slightly crooked.

“Hyung! I’m going to school too!” he shouted happily.

Bamby, who was eating bread, nearly dropped it. “What? School?”

“Yeah! You go to school, so I’ll go too! We’ll be in the same class, right?”

Bamby stared for a long moment. “The same class?”

“Yeah! You’re in elementary, I’m in kindergarten. That’s the same school, right?”

Bamby tried not to laugh but kept a serious face. “Eunho… elementary and kindergarten are different schools.”

Eunho blinked. “Different?”

“Yes. I go to the big school. You go to the small one.”

“So we can’t go together?”

“No,” Bamby said softly.

Eunho’s face fell. “But you promised you wouldn’t leave me!”

Bamby quickly stood up and patted his head. “Hey, I’m not leaving you. It’s just a different building. We can still play after school.”

Eunho frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Of course. I’m your Hyung.”

Eunho stared for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But you have to tell me everything about school.”

“Of course. I’ll teach you how to be a cool student.”

Eunho’s first day of kindergarten arrived.
He went off proudly with his new backpack and the wolf hat flapping in the breeze.
Bamby tagged along, walking like a senior full of authority.

“So this is your school,” he said importantly. “Here you’ll play, eat bread, sing songs, and learn to write letters.”

Eunho listened seriously. “Then I’ll make lots of friends like you?”

“Of course,” Bamby said quickly. “But don’t forget, even if you have lots of friends, I’m the most important one.”

Eunho nodded innocently. “Okay, you’re the most important.”

Bamby smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Now go inside, and don’t cry.”

“I won’t cry.”

“If you do, I’ll know.”

“How will you know?”

“I have a special sense,” Bamby said mysteriously.

Eunho’s eyes sparkled. “Wow, you’re amazing.”

Bamby nodded proudly. “I know.”

He walked Eunho to the classroom door and watched as the little boy waved from inside.
Something in his chest tightened, a mix of pride and loneliness, but he quickly pushed it away.

That afternoon, as soon as school was over, Bamby ran to Eunho’s house.
He knocked on the gate eagerly. “Eunho! You’re home?”

The door swung open, and Eunho appeared with a huge smile. “Hyung! I made new friends!”

Bamby frowned slightly. “New friends?”

“Yeah! Two boys and one girl! We played ball and had lunch together!”

Bamby blinked. “Ball?”

“Yeah! They said I was really good!”

Bamby stared, half surprised and half offended. “That was fast.”

Eunho nodded proudly. “You told me not to cry, so I just laughed instead!”

Bamby crossed his arms. “Well… good for you.”

“You’re happy too, right?”

“Of course,” Bamby said with a small, stiff smile.

Eunho, completely oblivious, sat on the steps and kept talking about his new friends, his nice teacher, and the songs they sang together.
Bamby listened quietly, chewing on his straw and staring at the ground.

After a while, he asked softly, “You still remember me, right?”

Eunho blinked. “Why would you even ask that? Of course I do. You’re my Hyung.”

Bamby looked down quickly, his cheeks warm. “Good. Just checking.”

Eunho grinned. “Tomorrow I’ll bring my friends here so you can meet them!”

“Why?”

“So you can have friends too!”

Bamby went silent for a long moment. “I already have a friend.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Eunho laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

Bamby stood up quickly and looked at the orange sky. “It’s late. I’m going home.”

“Okay! I’ll tell you more tomorrow!”

Bamby walked away without turning back, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
He was still a little annoyed, but somehow, his heart felt warm every time Eunho laughed while saying his name.

And that evening, as the sound of crickets filled the air, the two boys learned once again that growing up didn’t always mean growing apart,
because some bonds never really fade, even when the world around them starts to grow a little bigger.

Chapter Text

Same School, Same Sky

Morning arrived bright and clear, as if the sky itself had been waiting for this day.
The cicadas had not started singing yet, but the neighborhood was already a little noisier than usual.

In the Chae house, Bamby sat on the edge of his bed, already wearing his second grade uniform.

His pink hair had been combed neatly by his mother, and the small backpack on his shoulders made him look both mature and unmistakably tiny.

His pink eyes carried a determined glow, the kind only a child who expected to become the coolest senior could have.

He stared at himself in the mirror and lifted his chin.

Second grade.

He liked how that sounded.

From outside the window came a very familiar voice.

“Bamby! Hyung! Are you ready yet?”

Bamby sighed. “Too early,” he muttered, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

Mrs. Chae opened the door and peeked in. “Eunho has been awake since dawn,” she said, amused. “He almost came over in his pajamas.”

“He is too excited,” Bamby said, but his voice was soft.

“He is excited because he finally gets to go to the same school as you,” his mother replied, walking over to fix his collar. “And do not pretend you are not happy.”

“I am not pretending,” Bamby said, but his ears were already pink.

“Of course,” she teased gently. “You are a very calm and serious second grader.”

Down at the fence, Eunho bounced on his feet in his brand new first grade uniform.

A fluffy wolf keychain dangled, bouncing every time he took a step. His silver hair, dark at the ends, waved slightly in the breeze, and his bright red eyes sparkled with excitement.

When Bamby finally stepped out, Eunho lit up like someone had switched the sun on.

“Hyung! It looks good on you,” Eunho said, looking him up and down.

“I know,” Bamby answered, lifting his chin. “I am a second grader now.”

Eunho puffed his chest. “I am an elementary student now too.”

“You are only in first grade,” Bamby reminded him. “Still a baby.”

“I am not a baby,” Eunho protested. “I can study now.”

“You asked me yesterday if second grade students still get nap time,” Bamby replied.

“That is because I was planning my schedule,” Eunho said, very seriously. “So, Hyung, tell me again. What do we do at school?”

They started walking toward the car that was waiting for them.
Bamby cleared his throat, trying to sound like a wise older kid.

“In elementary school you learn math, language, and science,” he began.

“You read books, write essays, and solve questions. There are tests that decide if you are smart, and you have to take care of your notebooks, and if you forget your homework the teacher gets sad.”

“Do they cry?” Eunho asked, eyes wide.

“Not outside,” Bamby said slowly. “Probably only in their hearts.”

Eunho gasped. “Then I will not forget my homework.”

“There is also sports day,” Bamby continued, getting into the car with a practiced motion.

“We run, jump, throw balls, and if you are slow, everyone sees.”

Eunho climbed in beside him, eyes sparkling. “I will be fast then.”

“And at lunchtime,” Bamby went on, “you sit with your class and eat together. That is the rule.”

“Can I eat with you?” Eunho asked.

Bamby hesitated for a moment, then lifted his chin again. “If you behave.”

“I always behave,” Eunho said.

Bamby almost snorted. “That is not true.”

“It is true today,” Eunho answered, and beamed.

From the front seat, Mr. Chae watched them through the mirror, hiding a smile.

。

The school grounds were even busier than before. Parents and children moved in waves, voices blending into one soft roar of nervous excitement.

First grade students gathered near their classroom door, while second grade students were directed to their own hallway.

“You know where to go?” Mr. Chae asked.

“Yes,” Bamby said.

Eunho nodded too. “I just follow the other short people.”

Bamby tried not to laugh and failed. “Do not follow the wrong class.”

“I will remember my class,” Eunho said. “I am in First grade One.”

“And I am in Second grade One,” Bamby replied. “So we are neighbors.”

Eunho’s eyes sparkled even brighter. “We are neighbors in school too.”

They separated in the hallway, just for a moment.
As Eunho walked toward his classroom, he kept glancing over his shoulder. Bamby did the same, though he pretended he was just checking the name plates on the doors.

。

First grade One was full of new faces and new shoes that squeaked on the floor.
Eunho stood in line with the other kids, his back straight.

The teacher smiled warmly. “Welcome, everyone. You are first graders now. Let us introduce ourselves one by one.”

When it was his turn, Eunho stepped forward with both hands clenched at his sides.

“My name is Do Eunho,” he said clearly. “I like wolves, soccer, and playing outside. And I promised to study hard.”

“Very good,” the teacher said, impressed. “Thank you, Eunho.”

He returned to his seat with a satisfied grin, already whispering to the boy next to him. It did not take long before he was chatting with two, then three, then four classmates.

Meanwhile, in Second grade One, Bamby sat near the window again.
He listened to the teacher, nodded at the rules, and carefully took notes in his new notebook.

When the teacher asked them to say what they liked, some kids talked about games, some about reading, some about pets.
When it was his turn, Bamby answered simply.

“I like drawing,” he said. “And strawberry bread.”

A few kids chuckled softly, but this time Bamby did not feel so small. The T Rex eraser from last year was still in his pencil case, and somehow that made him feel less alone.

。

。

Recess came, and the school yard exploded into movement.

First grade students stayed mostly near their own side of the yard, but their laughter floated everywhere.

Second graders pretended to be more mature, but they ran just as fast when a ball rolled past.

Bamby closed his notebook, stood up, and headed toward the yard.
He told himself he only wanted some fresh air, but his steps turned automatically toward the part of the field where the first grade classes were gathered.

It did not take long to find Eunho.

He was standing in the middle of a small crowd, waving his arms as he talked. A ball was tucked under one arm, and three kids were asking him questions all at once.

“One at a time,” the teacher called, but she was smiling.

“I can kick far,” Eunho was saying proudly. “Because I used to guard a castle.”

“What castle?” one boy asked.

“Our sandbox,” another replied.

Bamby stopped a short distance away, watching.

Something warm swelled in his chest at the sight of Eunho laughing and glowing among his friends.

Then a small pinch settled beneath that warmth.

He had only watched for a minute, but it felt like the whole world had forgotten that he existed.

Eunho spotted him first.

“Ah, Hyung!” he shouted, waving so hard the ball almost fell. “Bamby, over here!”

Several heads turned toward Bamby at once.

“Bamby?” one of the kids repeated. “Who is that?”

“That is my Hyung,” Eunho said proudly. “His name is Bamby.”

Bamby took a breath, then walked closer. His ears were very warm now.

“At school my name is Chae Bonggu,” he said, trying to sound calm. “Only family can call me Bamby.”

Eunho blinked. “Oh.”

The kids stared between them.

“So we cannot call you Bamby?” one of them asked.

Bamby shook his head. “No. You can call me Bonggu.”

There was a small pause.

“Then I am family,” Eunho said at once, satisfied. “So I can still call you Bamby.”

Bamby almost tripped on the air itself. His face turned red from the tips of his ears to the collar of his uniform.

“You are not,” he said quickly.

“You said only family and I am your almost family,” Eunho replied. “Our parents said so.”

“That is not for you to say in front of everyone,” Bamby hissed under his breath.

The other kids were clearly enjoying this.

One of the boys looked at Eunho with wide eyes. “You have a second grade brother?”

“He is in Second grade One,” Eunho said happily. “He is a senior.”

A girl nodded, impressed. “That is so cool.”

A strange mix of emotion twisted in Bamby’s chest. Pride, embarrassment, and something that felt a little like panic.

“I am not that cool,” he tried to say, but the words came out smaller than he intended.

“Yes, you are,” Eunho insisted. “He is the one who told me about elementary school and tests and teachers who cry in their hearts.”

Several kids looked at Bamby with new respect.

“Wow,” one of them whispered. “You know a lot.”

Bamby lifted his chin a little. “Of course. I am a second grader.”

The jealousy from before slowed down, then melted, replaced by a quiet warmth that he tried hard not to show.

When the bell rang for lunch, each class had its own tables, but today the teachers were a little more relaxed. It was the first day, after all.

“Can Hyung eat with us?” Eunho asked his teacher, eyes shining.

The teacher glanced at Bamby. “You are in second grade, right?”

“Yes,” Bamby answered.

“It is all right for today,” she said with a smile. “As long as your own teacher knows where you are.”

“I will tell her later,” Bamby replied.

He sat down beside Eunho, surrounded by first graders. Their lunch boxes opened with different smells, rice and side dishes and tiny fruits in neat compartments.

“What do you have, Hyung?” one of them asked.

Bamby opened his lunch box. “Rice, eggs, and sausage.”

“Mine is the same,” Eunho said proudly. “We are matching.”

“They look different,” one of the kids observed. “But maybe they taste the same.”

Eunho pushed his chopsticks toward Bamby. “Here, try mine.”

“You eat yours,” Bamby said. Then, after a beat, he added, “We can trade one bite.”

The kids around them watched as they exchanged a small piece of egg and sausage, as if witnessing some kind of serious ritual.

“You really are like brothers,” one of the girls said.

Bamby pretended not to hear.
Eunho did not pretend at all. “We are,” he said cheerfully.

。

。

After school, the halls were busy again, this time with tired steps and softer voices.
First grade and second grade classes spilled out nearly together, bags bouncing and uniforms slightly wrinkled.

Outside the gate, Mr. Chae waited by the car.
Today was his turn to pick them up.

“Here,” he called. “I have both of you today.”

Eunho rushed over first, then turned around to make sure Bamby was still behind him.
He was. Of course he was.

They climbed into the back seat, bags tossed beside them. The car started moving, leaving the school slowly behind.

“How was your first day together?” he asked cheerfully.

Eunho jumped in first. “It was fun!”

Bamby climbed in more calmly, though his eyes sparkled.

Mr. Chae began driving. “Tell me everything.”

Eunho kicked his legs excitedly. “My friends said I am cool because I have a hyung who is a second grader!”

Bamby’s eyes went wide.

Mr. Chae laughed. “Is that so, Bonggu?”

“I… I mean… second graders are naturally impressive,” Bamby replied, trying not to squeak.

“Tomorrow,” Eunho continued, words spilling out as fast as his thoughts, “can you introduce me to your new friends in class. Then I can tell my friends that I know your friends too. That means I am even cooler.”

Bamby froze.

New friends.

He thought back to his own classroom.
To the rows of desks, the quiet nods, the polite greetings.

He remembered the T Rex eraser, the teacher’s smile, the feeling of the room still being unfamiliar.

He had not yet spoken properly to anyone besides answering questions in class.

Inside, his mind spun in a small, panicked circle.

“About that,” he said slowly.

Eunho leaned closer. “Yes.”

“I am still busy observing,” Bamby decided.

“Observing what,” Eunho asked.

“The class,” Bamby replied quickly. “The environment. Who is noisy and who is quiet. It is important to know these things as a second grader.”

“So you do not have friends yet,” Eunho said, very gently.

“I did not say that,” Bamby protested at once.

“You did not have to,” Eunho replied, perfectly calm.

Bamby crossed his arms and looked out the window, his cheeks hot.

After a moment, he spoke again, voice softer.

“I am the coolest in my class anyway,” he said. “So you only need to know me. You do not need to know anyone else.”

Eunho blinked, then smiled so wide his eyes almost disappeared. “So I have the coolest senior all to myself.”

“You are saying strange things again,” Bamby muttered.

From the front seat, Mr. Chae almost choked on his laughter.
He cleared his throat but could not quite erase the smile from his face.

“Do not worry, Bamby,” he said lightly. “No one is going to take Eunho away. Remember, we already tied him to you.”

“Tied me where?” Eunho asked, utterly confused.

“The threads on your fingers,” Mr. Chae reminded him. “The promise from when you were small.”

Eunho looked at his hand, then at Bamby. “Oh. That one.”

Bamby covered his face with both hands. “Why are you saying that now,” he groaned.

“Because it is true,” Mr. Chae answered, amused. “The world can try, but I do not think anyone can steal him from you.”

“I am not worried,” Bamby mumbled through his fingers.

“Yes, you are,” Eunho said softly.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Mr. Chae laughed. “Anyway, Eunho, are you going anywhere?”

Eunho sat up straight. “No. I will stay here.”

“With who,” Mr. Chae asked.

“With Hyung,” Eunho said simply. “If I go somewhere, he will be lonely and cry.”

“I will not cry,” Bamby snapped, pulling his hands away. His eyes were a little too bright.

“You cried when your sandcastle fell,” Eunho reminded him.

“That was because of the wind.”

“And when your strawberry was too sour.”

“That was because of the strawberry.”

“And when I got a fever.”

“That was because you scared me,” Bamby said, louder than he meant to.

Silence settled for a moment.

Then Eunho smiled again, softer this time. “So I will not go anywhere,” he said. “Then you do not have to cry for any reason.”

“I was not planning to,” Bamby replied, turning away so no one could see his face.

The car filled with their voices again. Small arguments, quick comebacks, half serious complaints that always ended in laughter.

Mr. Chae shook his head quietly. “You two are really something,” he murmured, but his eyes were warm.

。

By the time the car turned into their street, both boys had grown quieter.
The steady motion and the soft hum of the engine began to pull at their eyelids.

When the car stopped in front of the Chae house, neither of them moved.

They had fallen asleep, heads leaning toward each other, mouths slightly open, fingers still loosely curled as if holding onto invisible threads.

Mr. Chae opened the back door and paused for a moment, just watching them.

Soon the Do parents came out from next door. Together, they lifted the boys carefully, one to each home.

“I will put Eunho on his bed,” said Mrs. Do. “When they wake up, the first thing they will do is run to the fence again.”

“Of course they will,” Mr. Do replied. “That is how the day works now.”

The adults shared a quiet smile.

Their children did not understand yet what promises had been placed upon their small shoulders, and there was no need to rush that understanding.

It was enough, for now, that they were happy. That their laughter filled the houses. That when one voice appeared, the other was never far behind.

In two different rooms, on two different beds, the boys slept the same way, facing the same wall that stood between their homes.

Outside, the sky was bright, the wind gentle, the world a little bigger than yesterday.
But within that small corner of the neighborhood, the parents knew one thing for certain.

No matter how big the world became, those two would always find their way back to each other.