Archive of Our Own

A small child with the disinterested face of a woman that has gone through life with the ability to know what was wrong and right and ultimately boring was the focus of our attention now. She was no taller than 3 foot 8 inches and had long sleek hair that was set neatly in two tight braids, tied off with ties that had a small pink creature attached to them. This creature could also be found on the school bag she was shouldering, and the pens that poked from the pockets gave the sense that most things she possessed were of this same fashion. She waited very patiently near the information booth in a busy subway.

“My father told me not to talk to strangers,” she said.

“Is that so?” A young man that had said hello to her after much consideration responded disappointedly. He felt awkward now that it was apparent he was not a vaguely familiar face as he assumed he would be, but an odd man attempting to engage her in unwanted conversation. He decided standing near her in silence would be much worse than a harmless attempt at friendly chatter. “I know your father.”

She looked over at him in disinterest.

“I’ll describe him for you, just so you can be sure I’m telling the truth.” He looked about, and then at his watch, but realizing this may seem suspicious, clenched his bag to his chest and stepped a little away. “He’s short. He’s got black hair and very pearly skin. His face is a lot like yours—sort of unfeeling—but his mouth is more of a sharp line. It’s like shaping iron to get him to express much, but when you do it’s sort of—a work of art.” He blushed. “Am I close?”

She nods, but ignores any chance at further conversation.

“That’s nice to know at least. We’ll—I’ll wait here with you for him. Should be just a minute.” He steps a few feet further and finds the subway line map suddenly very interesting.

Though he is not looking, from the reflection of the glass he can see her look about, then at him. She seems as though she wants to say something, but some preset hesitation stops her.

He speaks for her. “I used to take the bus home when I was your age. Can you imagine that? Just 6, taking the bus home alone. It was a small town so we didn’t have the subway, but it was safe. You don’t seem like the type to want to talk about cartoons, knowing Lee Jihoon, but not letting you go home alone is…” and for clarification: “—Very Lee Jihoon. A little sweet.”

She looked at him in surprise now, and he was sure that she was going to say something. A voice interrupts her.

“JiAn.”

They both look over and the man who’s been described has materialized. She runs to him and when he crouches to hug her they have a very hushed conversation for a moment. He turns her toward the young man and says something he can’t quite hear. After a small nod, they approach.

The young man speaks first. “Hello..! An introduction would be just lovely. I seem to know you two so well, and yet I’m some sort of ghost in the night.”

Jihoon looks at him enigmatically. “JiAn, this is my—friend. Soonyoung.”

He reaches a hand toward her, and she takes it very disinterestedly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss JiAn. I’ve heard so much about you you’d seem to be a celebrity.” He notices Jihoon’s small blush. “Quite the shame that you don't know much about me.”

“Are you nice?” She asks suddenly. Jihoon puts his hand out for her to take and together they board the subway.

Soonyoung follows. “Why—the nicest! Did your father tell you of the time I bought him flowers?”

She doesn’t answer. “Where do you work?”

“In the building next to your dad. I’m sure you’ve seen it. Did he show you that fun dance to his song? ‘Thinkin’ about you?’ I made that one.”

Her childish charm makes up for this continuously unreciprocated conversation. She looks up at her father thoughtfully. “And do you like to give presents?”

“Oh, I love to. You know that pokemon bread with the Wartortle sticker? And the other with Blastoise?”

She thinks for a long minute, and when they find three spots together, her in the middle, she looks up to him. “You and my father are friends?”

Soonyoung feels timorous under her scrutinizing gaze. He glances over to Jihoon, but the nebulous expression in his eyes makes Soonyoung begin to sweat. “Maybe best friends.”

It’s a little odd when they decide to ride the rest of the way in silence. Soonyoung hoped that she would say something about her day, or maybe Jihoon would go on about his own. He considered this was simply a dream that he had fallen too deeply into but upon pinching his own arm he found that it surely was not. Jihoon nudged her with his elbow to indicate that they were going to depart. Unsure if he should continue to follow them, or simply take the train a few more stops to his own home, the suggestion came in the form of a command.

“Make sure you hold hands so you don’t lose your balance.”

JiAn took Soonyoung’s hand in her own coolly and they walked to the exit together like that. They went a few blocks until they reached a small apartment building hidden away behind an intersection lined with restaurants and convenience stores. He has no difficulty following along as he’s been in this neighborhood more times than he can count and the door just before the stairs is an uneasy familiarity. They enter.

“I’ll show you my room.” She decides. Soonyoung is a little stunned. She had changed from her suspicious disposition into one of somewhat puerile charm. “Have you ever seen our house?”

Soonyoung looked again at Jihoon, but he had not glanced back or seemed to even anticipate the answer. “Just once,” he responded. “It was really lovely from what I saw, but I’d love to hear more about your room.”

This answer clearly pleased her. When Jihoon released his hand to unlock the door she hadn’t let go of Soonyoung’s. They enter together, remove their shoes and coats together, and she gave him a detailed tour as though he were interested in purchasing it from them. In her room Soonyoung was introduced to each of her toys, no matter how small or impersonified. Even the tin pencil case was presented with name and careful handling instruction. A small basket of plastic groceries was put in his hand and they moved to sit in the living room together. From what he could tell, rather than an invitation to play this was some sort of test.

“Let’s do your work, JiAn.” Jihoon said, putting a plate of cut apples on the table in front of them. She pulled a few papers from her bag obediently.

Soonyoung watched for a moment, and deciding she was well focused, set the basket on the floor to speak with Jihoon in the other room. “So?”

“So what?” Jihoon responded.

“How have you been?”

Jihoon poorly holds back a smile. “You saw me at lunch.”

“Well surely something spectacular has happened to you since then. Our luck always gets a little stronger after we spend time together.”

A hand is brought about Jihoon’s waist and they rest comfortably together. “How could that possibly be?” He sneers. “I just sit around until I can see you again.”

Soonyoung sighs dreamily. “Can I kiss you when your child is around?”

“No,” Jihoon responds quickly. “Not quite yet.”

They separate.

“Well, why don’t we play a game before I leave?”

Despite the obvious rush of emotion between them Jihoon is very nonchalant. He turns to Soonyoung, and in a clearly practiced tone says: “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I—make too much anyway.”

Soonyoung smiles. “Only if she agrees.”

Jihoon walks to the doorframe of the kitchen. Soonyoung follows. “Hey, sweetie.” She looks at him, and then Soonyoung, and then him again. “I was thinking that Uncle Soonyoung could stay for dinner. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

She hesitates, looks at Soonyoung again, and noticing the lack of basket in his arms shrugs impassionately.

“I think it’d be fun. We’re having curry today, and you always mention that we have so much left over.” He walked over to put his hand on her shoulder. When she looks over at Soonyoung again it’s a little pitiful. He feels the pressure to retreat.

“Okay.”

Jihoon leans over to press their cheeks together. “Wash up when you’re finished and you can watch TV.” He stands. “Soonyoung will help me cook.”

She goes back to her work and Soonyoung notices she gets the same scrunched nose as Jihoon when she’s focused.

“What do you need help with, captain?” He salutes playfully.

Jihoon pushes him rather forcefully.

“It’s not nice to hit. Use your words,” he says through a pout.

Jihoon leans in with his mouth cupped and whispers into Soonyoung’s ear. The insult makes him laugh. They begin cutting all the vegetables and useless conversation about which they prefer fills the silence but upon finishing first Soonyoung decides it nice to get very close to Jihoon. He considered he imagined the color to his ear, or the unconscious lean closer, or the soft pounding of his heart.

“Father?” JiAn calls.

Jihoon starts. He gives Soonyoung a sharp glare and walks out to her. “Oh, you want me to sign this? Do you need me to check it for you?” She shakes her head. “Well, aren't you one smart cat?” She laughs.

While she washed up, Soonyoung hovered around him again. “And what of me?”

“What of you?” Jihoon demands.

“I washed and cut the vegetables. Don’t I get a little credit? Some praise?”

Jihoon mixes all the ingredients into the pot and puts on the lid. “You’re nothing but a pest.” Normally this was followed by some forgiving romantic gesture. For now he seemed fresh out of them, but moments later he added: “Thank you.” What he was referring to was unclear.

She returned presently and instead of sitting to watch television she joined them in the kitchen. She walked up to Soonyoung. “What do you want to watch?”

“Oh—well—I don’t really have a favorite show.”

She stared at him. “I like ‘Dogs are Fantastic.’”

Soonyoung walked toward the living room to invite her to sit on the couch. She followed only after a short conversation with her father:

“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like my hair?”
“Well I think it’s the best I’ve ever done pigtails.”
She nods. “Do you like blonde?”
“It’s okay,” he says after a short breath of a laugh. “But I think your black hair is the best.”
“Thank you.”

A very blonde Soonyoung flushes incredulously. She glances over to him in a way that says “See?” and sits down with the remote.

“My father likes to watch New Journey to the West. We watch it together before lunch on the weekends.” She mentions brazenly. After switching to her favorite show she sets it down and looks to him. “What do you like to do on the weekends?”

The dog on the television growls at the man. “Well, I usually work on the weekends. Sometimes in the afternoon we—I mean I like to order food and eat near the river.”

The dog nips at the man as he approaches. “What kind of food?”

He knocks the dog away gently with his leg. “All kinds, of course. My favorite is crab.”

The dog is shocked, and when its leash is grabbed for there is only distant resistance. “Oh… I like curry.” she responds quietly.

Jihoon calls them over to eat. Noticing two bowls set together and one across the table she sits triumphantly at the pair. Soonyoung stands uncertainly. Unbeknownst to what was happening, Jihoon says: “Hand me two bowls, dear.” He fills both and hands one to each. They again stand uncertainly. Jihoon turns with his own and sits at the end. “It’s—okay to sit.”

She sits on the right. “Can I sleep with you tonight, dad?” and when Soonyoung sits on his left she adds: “It’s going to thunderstorm.”

Jihoon checks the time. “Really? I hope no time soon. I wouldn’t want you going home in the rain.” He checks once more. “You sure can.”

She laughs. Soonyoung frowns. The rain starts.

“If it gets too hard you should stay.” He says, but it isn’t much of a suggestion.

JiAn frowns. They sit in silence and 20 minutes later they’re finished and Soonyoung is doing the dishes after much resistance. When he joins them in front of the TV there is only space left on the arm chair.

“Dad, can we get a dog?”

Jihoon ignores this.

She leans over his lap. “Da-ad! Can we get a dog?”

“So it can end up like that one?” He laughs. He rests his arms on her as if a blanket was put about his legs.

“It won’t! I’ve seen nearly every episode. I’m just like the trainer.”

“Are you? A professional dog trainer?”

She looks up at him. “Of course! I just need a dog to practice with, then I can get my certificate.”

He pinches her cheek. “Nice try.”

Soonyoung had been watching somewhat in awe. It was true that children bring out a different side of people.

“Uncle Soonyoung,” she said when she noticed. “Do you have a dog?”

“No.”

“Do you want a dog?”

He considered. “Why, sure, a nice small one.”

She nods amiably. “See! If we get a dog then Uncle Sonyoung can help take care of it too.”

Jihoon laughs. “I don’t think he’d want to do that, darling. Dogs are a lot of responsibility.”

It was her father’s words, but she looked at Soonyoung with reproach.

“Well—” he said quickly. “Maybe one day.”

Jihoon eyed him. The rain began to pour harder. When he checked his watch it was five past nine. “Alright, time for bed.”

She rose obediently and walked toward what Soonyoung remembered to be the bathroom. He began to get ready as well. “Thank you for today. Put in a good word for me with JiAn; my reputation needs it.”

Looking at the lackluster rain disappoints Jihoon. He becomes rash. “Well, why don't you—stay?”

Soonyoung smiles. “I don’t mind a little rain. No need to worry about me.”

“Yes, but—I’d like for you to.” Soonyoung pauses putting on his shoes. “We could get breakfast together.”

Heart in his throat he says, rather difficulty: “Well, I could stay this one time.”

“And sleep on the couch.”

JiAn appeared. She was surprised that Soonyoung was still here. “Can I get a story?”

“Just a minute. Uncle Soonyoung here wants to get settled on the couch.” He pat her hair.

Her face droops in disappointment. “He can hear a story after mine.”

“JiAn, be nice to guests. Would you want me to be rude to your friends if they stayed the night?”

She shook her head solemnly and disappeared into one room.

“She doesn’t like me.” Soonyoung states, a little devastated.

“She’s just a little jealous. I tell her about my ‘nice friend’ a lot. I think she pieced together it was you.”

“Really? And what do you tell her about this ‘nice friend?’” he removes his coat, jacket, and a stiff button down shirt. He dressed more formally to impress her, though it seemed to be for neigh.

“I’ll get you a blanket after I tuck her in.”

Soonyoung lies down. He hears a short, clipped conversation from the room and a voice now squeaking with disapproval when the door is opened and then shut. Jihoon appears with a Pokemon throw blanket.

Soonyoung chuckles. “Is that her favorite?”

“I bought it when we moved in as a gift to myself. I guess children can’t help being like their parents.”

Jihoon draped the blanket over Soonyoung as he lay down. “Will she sleep any time soon?”

“Probably not. I’ve never seen her so obviously spiteful toward someone before. What’d you do to her?”

“She can see how obsessed you are with me.” He reaches to grab Jihoon’s hand.

He removes it quickly. “Oh, Shut up!”

“It’s okay. I know how lovely I am, I would dote on me too.”

He stands. “Good-nite, Soonyoung.”

He laughs. “Okay, I’m sorry! Come sit here with me for a while.” He sits up, and Jihoon does. “Do you have a plan in mind? You haven’t told me anything yet.”

He seems to harden himself. “It's—difficult. Of course this is my first time, and for some reason the only thing I want more than anything is her approval.”

“That’s normal. All you want is for her to be happy.” He takes his hand in his again.

“But I just—Well—” he hesitates greatly, but when he meets Soonyoung’s eyes he says: “I love you.”

Soonyoung thinks his mouth might have dropped open a little. This would be the first time in their two year relationship that they’ve said those words to each other. He feels tears build behind his eyes and flushes.

Love had no physical attribute in their minds until now when the soft light of a late spring moonshine and the low orange of a comfortable lamp made their eyes color in a way that could only foolishly be remembered as the odd sense of dejavu. “I want to be able to live freely—loving you,” the words come from him a little strained and awkward. “But I don’t want it to be at her expense.”

Soonyoung moves to hold him closer. “Well, then I’ll work a little harder.”

They sit like that for some time. Both embracing the fascinating wonder of having vaguely experienced something similar, yet exactly the same; regretting the passing of a moment so fleetingly spectacular but appreciating it may never be experienced in their lives again. It’s something they were accustomed to doing; finding small corners to enjoy the comfortable silence of each other. They use this intimate location to bask in the warm breeze that their love seemed to bring about them. Now it was more defined and comfortably persistent.

“Just this once,” Jihoon whispered.

The kiss they shared was tender and shy in a way that could only be replicated in bouts of timid affection that may seem akin to the kiss given once a ring is placed on a finger. Their matching blushes could have turned the intruding moonlight pink. Jihoon stood.

“Goodnight.”

Soonyoung blinked at him slowly and lazily and in love. “G’nite.”

❖

The following morning felt different, but he could not figure out in what way. It was as if life got covered in a thick fog when you were sure that someone loved you, but those around you could not tell, so your stupor was embarrassing and unseemly to onlookers. He lay in the lukewarm sunshine and wonder how to follow along in this temporary blur in their love. From the moment they met it had seemed so sure and bright, but now it seemed that the muddiness of real life was going to interfere. There was the sound of a door opening and JiAn appeared.

“Uncle Soonyoung, do you prefer waffles or pancakes?”

He rose awkwardly, then realizing there was no need, he sat again. “Waffles.”

In a moment, Jihoon appeared and groaned disapprovingly. “Wrong answer.”

When Jihoon’s dull face looked at him he felt a happiness he could not contain, and smiling largely he decided contrarily that perhaps in times of desperation love became stronger than ever.

“What's so funny?” Jihoon demanded.

He made no answer, and after redressing himself he stood awkwardly as they did their normal morning routine. Of which, seemed to be a large silence with interludes of odd statements and simple dreams. Once he was inquired if he had ever dreamed of “any of the dogs with jobs” in which the character’s names could not be remembered. When he politely declined having any knowledge of such a thing he was no longer asked questions. The thick, animus air that was set thereafter could have been physically waded through.

“Then what would you like to eat for breakfast, JiAn?” asked her father.

“Ice cream.” She said quickly, and when he looked at her from the corner of his eyes with hardly a flash of amusement she changed her mind. “A muffin.”

It was an odd whirl of a morning that Soonyoung felt mostly to be a voyeur of. There were trace moments where he was let in on a conversation, but mostly it was a father and his daughter arguing and rejoicing and admiring each other. It was truly a sight for him, and for some reason he couldn’t quite understand it only deepened his love for Jihoon. They again sat in the subway as they did before, now with the added party of a small soft toy that, initially refused by the father, was paid for by the stranger. This earned Soonyoung the same questioning as before, but in a much clunkier manner than what had been exchanged the entire morning. He was grateful nonetheless. Driving past the stop for the work buildings and exiting from a stairway nearly run with children it was apparent that she was now to go to school.

“I won’t be home until late today, darling. I have a few things extra I need to take care of. Can you call when you get home?” She shook her head, and kissing him on the cheek she walked off to school.

They were alone now in the rushed atmosphere of youth and bliss that you get from being around a large group of children. It made them both sentimental in a way that they stood for a moment watching the front of the school as if it were going to disappear once they blinked. The blue sky reflected in the windows so that it may have been filled with it, and feeling inspired Soonyoung inquired:

“Why don’t I walk her home?”

Jihoon looked at him incredulously. It was as if JiAn was right there reacting herself. “What?”

“We take the same train. I can make sure she gets there fine.”

“I don’t think that would—” he stopped himself. “You can’t force these kinds of things—”

“Just a short ride and a walk?”

“Yes, but Soonyoung—Thank you. But she’s done it before.”

He saw very clearly that for the first time it was difficult for Jihoon to be direct. He wavered thinking about the feeling of this morning but waved the thought away. Considering renting a book in dealing with children, he was the first to walk off.

“I do, Soonyoung. It's just—I don't think she'd like it at all.”

“Everyone likes me..” he says playfully. “But I understand.”

It's as if nothing in their relationship had changed when both knew that things were at the start of changing significantly. Soonyoung walked him to the door of his building and feeling very in love, stayed in Jihoon's office doing nothing for half an hour longer. This of course got him in trouble at his own, but the thick fog was set in his head so that he scarcely could comprehend any scolding.

The confusing routine of Soonyoung trying to be more likeable in her eyes continued as he followed the careful dance of love and love making as though he were the puppet in it all. On nice days they did activities as three, though he felt once again as if he were a common bee attracted to the beautiful flower of such paternal love. He gained small successes in agreeing to most things that she said, and it got so well that she even occasionally rejoiced when the door was opened to reveal him. On a cold winter morning they were all sitting together at the table drawing, per her demand, and when her father walked off to find colored pencils she turned to him.

“Uncle Soonyoung?”

“Yes?” He said through a gasp. No matter how many times she called his name it still scared him a little each time. As if she might suddenly figure out what was happening and ask that he leave and never come back.

“Why do you call my father ‘Dear Jihoon?’”

The dread became ten times worse and his mouth fell open ajar for a long moment as he scrambled for an excuse. Several times he said “Well, you see—” but without Jihoon there to tell him how to answer he had difficulty knowing what to say next. Going with his instinct, he lied.

“Oh, it’s just a—term of endearment. Like how we call you ‘Darling.’”

“Adults have those too?”

“Yes –” he said in a way that would not have been believed by an adult.

“Then can I call him that as well? Something like—’Dear father?’ or maybe ‘Dearest dad?’”

“No,” he said with a hint of jealousy. “It might be seen as rude. Why not,” he thought for a moment. “Why not something cute, like adding an s to the end?”

“Dads?” She tried it out a few times, and entirely satisfied, when Jihoon came back she began to giggle almost uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Jihoon.

“Hello, dads, dads, daddy.”

He laughed along with her. “Hello, my darling girl.”

She turned now to Soonyoung. “Your turn, uncle Soonyoung.”

He blanched, hesitated greatly, and only after much excited encouragement from her, said: “Hello—Dear Jihoon.”

He visibly started, but when Soonyoung shook his head helplessly he responded, somewhat rigidly. “Yes, hello—Soonyoung.”

They went about their day normally after this, she found it all to be perfectly charming and humorous, but when it came time for Soonyoung to leave Jihoon walked down with him. It was snowing, and he wore only slippers and a thick sweater. Though hesitant, Soonyoung removed his jacket and put it about Jihoon’s shoulders.

“What was that before?”

“When you walked off she asked why I call you ‘Dear Jihoon.’ I don’t even know where she could have ever heard me say such a thing—” he broke off. “But anyway, I told her adults have a sort of way to call each other when they’re good friends.”

“Oh—” he said plainly. “Well, you shouldn’t lie to her.”

“I know, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do..”

A strong breeze blew powdery snow around them and Soonyoung shivered a little. Jihoon looked up to make sure there was nobody watching them and then there was a cold nose on his cheek. He handed the jacket back.

“Well, then, Dear Soonyoung. I think it’s time we told her.”

His eyes went very large and he felt a cold sweat on his forehead. “Are you sure? I mean—are you quite sure? She might seem like she enjoys my presence but maybe it’s just—a stroke of tolerable luck.”

Jihoon hardly heard this, for as soon as the coat had been secured he was halfway inside. He turned, and from behind the closed glass door his only reassurance was a simple thumbs up.

This was not the last of their conversation nor was it the last time that he would have to forgo warmth for the sake of Jihoon’s carelessness. Almost every day for the next week they met each other outside the buildings to discuss what they were going to do. Though he appreciated that Jihoon felt confident enough to share their love with the person he cared for most, Soonyoung was incredibly hesitant that such small nods to tolerable affection were grounds to admit their affair. Offhandedly Jihoon attempted to console his nerves with a story that, to him, seemed irrefutable signs of liking. It went as follows:

Jihoon and JiAn had been watching television together on the couch like they were one to do after dinner just about every evening. Having already discussed the location, a hopeful time, and a somewhat desperate guideline as to what they were going to say, he became overly excited and asked her:

“Do you enjoy spending time with uncle Soonyoung?”

His tone must have revealed something, for she suddenly became solemn. “I enjoy spending time with you. He can join as he pleases.”

He hesitated for a moment, but decided to go on. “I see.. but darling I wonder if you like him.”

She shrugged, but after a short series of eager glances she said, “I suppose so.”

The recounting of this story was of no help to Soonyoung, and he was not afraid to admit as much. “She sounds terribly aloof. You’d think you asked her if she’d like a glass of water!”

“That’s just how she is – oh, you know who raised her.”

This made Soonyoung smile. He moved nearer to him and put his arm about Jihoon’s shoulder. “You think that could have something to do with it?”

He shrugged. “I suppose so.”

❖

The nervous swell of his heart was all he could focus on as he exited the subway. It was a fine and sunny day, the first in quite some time, but he felt as if nothing could free his brain from the clouding, dreadful thoughts. Work had been fine, he woke feeling refreshed, but his lunch with Jihoon had been a reminder of what was to come. He constantly assured both Jihoon and himself that he would be fine—happy, even. But now that he was walking to meet them he found disquiet to be the strongest emotion of all. As he walked, a small street performance carried a low hum of music in the air, and looking into the dog cafe in which they were to meet he spotted their laughing faces. He went in and joined them.

“Dear Soonyoung,” Jihoon began casually, with only a hint of playfulness. “We’re going to have dinner after this, that I wanted to be special.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, of course.” he turned to JiAn. “And how are you enjoying it, darling?”

She explained each dog she had interacted with and their relation to an episode of her favorite show. With a little help from the workers she was attempting to get as many dogs as she could to do a trick or abide by her instructions in some way. Once when giving a treat to a dog a little too eager it snapped the end of her finger. There was a collective tense gasp when she exclaimed “Ouch!” but she turned to show her father and explained only that she hadn’t given the treat fast enough. When she moved to explain the same thing to Soonyoung in a sudden burst of sympathetic affection he pressed her hand, deciding then that someone so patient and wonderful could do no wrong.

When afterward they walked a little down the street to a fast food restaurant he had, rather foolishly, assumed that he knew very well how she would react. Even if she had a little apprehension he would explain that he understood now she was the most lovely thing to happen to Jihoon. Once they finished their food and were basking in the success of a pleasant day, Soonyoung began himself.

“JiAn, your father and I would like to tell you something.”

She looked on with little interest. She was tired from such an eventful day. Leaning into Jihoon drowsily, she looked vaguely at Soonyoung.

“We’d like to talk about—Well, I’d like to admit that we’re—” He looked over to Jihoon for assurance, becoming suddenly self-conscious.

“JiAn, darling. We’d like to tell you that—Well, Soonyoung and I are dating.”

Soonyoung repeated this. “And we’re very happy. And I’d be so glad to know you’re okay with that.”

She was clearly shocked awake by this. She sat very straight and looked between them both constantly. Her small, pale face began to pinch and sour. “Like—you’re going to get married?”

They both blanched, then quickly spoke over one another:

“Well, you shouldn’t—”

“I don’t think that's—”

After a long silence and a large hesitation Soonyoung said, “Of course, I would like to some day.”

If this would have been a test of their love they would have passed with flying colors. They grew to that almost youthful shade of red that seemed to take them back to when they had first begun such a tame love. Soonyoung glanced shyly at Jihoon and Jihoon glanced shyly at him. His hands that had been nervously wringing together on the table were suddenly graced by Jihoon’s own fingertip. He opened his palm in order to press their hands together, but they separated abruptly when a shrill “No!” came from her as if it used all the air in her little lungs.

She clung to her father like he were being forcibly dragged away. “You can’t!” She took a large, laborious breath. “You can’t – because I’m going to marry my father!”

Jihoon attempted to comfort her loud, forced howling, but it seemed to be of no use. Those who were near enough to hear what led to it looked on with sympathetic eyes; those too far only glanced in annoyance. If Soonyoung attempted to say anything she let an even larger wail out. Finding they would get nowhere, and entirely disheartened, Soonyoung collected their things and they left. When they stopped a little down the street to say goodbye she went silent, sniffling occasionally in protest. They had been facing each other but when Soonyoung crouched to be her level she turned sharply toward her father and hid her face in his lower back.

“JiAn—I never meant to make you upset. Really I hope someday you can forgive me—and maybe allow me to love your father half as much as you do.”

She gave no response. This would be the end of it. They parted with no more than a dispirited glance. Walking home in the golden shower of a setting sun, Soonyoung felt helpless and defeated. He knew this had not affected his relationship with Jihoon — he sensed that more than likely it had strengthened it — for Jihoon had assured him that no matter her reaction, his words on that rainy night not too long ago had been his more heartfelt in quite some time. He worried now if it were he who might strain their relationship. He knew little to nothing of children and growing up he had an older sister he was very close with, so he knew little of loneliness.

Even meeting Jihoon had come at a time where he could perhaps consider himself to be on the cusp of becoming “forlorn.” He reminisced on their history all the way home. Meeting on a shared project back in his first months at his company… At the first meeting he learned true eternal youth to be real; on the second he learned self-consciousness; on the third he learned the despair and heartache of assumption; on the last he learned it had been love at first sight. He never imagined that a few vaguely stirring e-mails and a chance invitation to a dinner would be what brought them together but he celebrated after each impassioned phone call as though he were told he’d won the lottery. The poignancy now passed and was replaced with a great sense of relief. If they had grown so close as a couple up until now with little incorporation of her then he would be fine that way—he could spend the rest of his life happy with just a short date outside their offices each day.

❖

Just as he had expected things went back to how they were before. He stayed a little longer at work to avoid them on the subway, he called only after nine at night or when he knew JiAn would not be home, he even went back to his poor habit of leaving work early to spend what time he could with Jihoon on the weekends that she spent at playdates. All seemed to be perfectly fine for the both for the time being despite what happened. One snowy Saturday evening when the sun had long since set and there had been enough snow that it was a little difficult to walk, Jihoon went with Soonyoung outside.

“Come back if you need to get a cab,” Jihoon said. They had spent the entire day together since noon. “Good-nite.”

Soonyoung kissed his waiting lips and said, “Good-bye.”

The words seemed to physically hurt Jihoon. His eyebrows knit and he sighed harshly. “Don’t say that—” his head was now on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “How can two people so wonderful disagree on anything?”

Soonyoung hugged him close. “Life is just a constant search and battle for love. We’re each a little jealous and a little awed and a little ashamed.”

They parted only after a long moment. It was difficult for Soonyoung to walk away, but he knew there was no other way for it to be at present. The bright shine of the moon and its stars in the clear black sky was comforting, for he knew that even they had gone their whole lives only meeting for short bursts of time. Their relationship continued like this for several months. The snow came here and there, holidays passed, fleeting moments were shared, but above all, love was made.

❖

The following year, early spring, would be the moment that shifted the situation entirely. There was only now that constant flutter in each person's heart that came with the sunshine. It seemed everyone was a little delirious with the joy that was caused by the warm sun and cool breeze. It came, also, from the constant unexpectedness of the weather in such a transition. You knew not whether it would snow one last time or if the rain would bring the flowers to bloom a little early. If it were to snow you would sigh in silent relief, but if it were to get warmer you rejoiced. Soonyoung had just arrived home from work when his phone rang. He picked it up, elated to hear Jihoon’s voice.

“What is it?”

“You’re still going to see me off tomorrow, yes? Don’t—” he stopped himself.

“I won’t be scared. She’s just — Well, she’s just a little girl. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Alright,” he hesitated as if he had something to say, but instead continued quickly with: “I’ll see you then. I love you.”

The pause was completely forgotten. Heart in his throat Soonyoung responded: “I love you, too.”

The evening of the following day Soonyoung was embarrassed to admit to himself that he was very shaken and nervous to be meeting them. The train station had been unusually empty and he worried mostly that if she were to make a scene then Jihoon might decide, afterall, it might be best not to go. He was not able to brood on this for much longer, as when he walked through the door he was being hailed. Jihoon waved him over in a way that matched his nervousness. JiAn looked on dispassionately.

“Hello—” he swallowed a large lump in his throat. “How are you?”

“Soonyoung, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“What about?”

“I couldn’t bear to tell you over the phone… Really, it’s difficult to tell you now.” He handed Soonyoung a folded sheet of paper and JiAn’s jacket. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

“Why—anything.”

“Her usual sitter cancelled—and you know I wouldn’t ask if—” he stopped himself. “Can you watch her for the weekend? I couldn’t get anyone to stay overnight on such short notice.”

Soonyoung took a long moment to think about it. He wanted to agree but the words eluded him each time he opened his mouth. When he looked at the young girl herself she seemed to have already come to terms with the decision, though clearly indisposed. A train was announced for boarding and Jihoon bent down to meet her.

“I have to go, darling, but I want you to be extra good for Uncle Soonyoung. I mean it. Be as good as you are for me,” he kissed her plump cheek. She gave no response, and though it was not clear to Soonyoung it was apparent that she was holding back an emotional scene due to her father leaving. She figured she had done enough of that as he was getting ready. He hugged her very close and exclaimed, “My darling girl!” Then it was Soonyoung’s turn. Her hand was shoved obediently into his. “She’s going to be on her best behavior. Take good care of her.”

Soonyoung could only nod. Jihoon held his face up very obviously to be kissed, but Soonyoung feared that she might hate their love if they did it so blatantly. He brought his face down so he could press their cheeks together. “Travel safe. And remember to eat well—and call every day.” He wasn’t sure why but he began to choke up. Maybe it was nervousness, but likely it was the collective sorrow of someone so important leaving them both, only to find comfort in their shared despair. They watched in silence and partial disbelief as he became nothing more than a shadow in the still, crisp evening. Taking the warm shine of the sunlight and the rosy tint of the early spring sunset along with him.

❖

Soonyoung figured that he was now to be somewhere between a barely visible ghost and an automatic feeder. The ride home had been completely silent, and now he went through everything very stiffly, wondering if it would be weird to her how familiar he was with the house. He set a cup of water in front of where she had been sat at the couch, staring into space. He considered comforting her, but seeing how they had left off he figured it better to let her handle the emotions on her own. He remembered Jihoon saying that’s how he had went through his life for the most part. She glanced at him. He had been staring.

“Well—let’s see. It’s only Thursday, so you must have school tomorrow.” he checked his watch. ”Why – it’s five to ten! Would you mind—would you need any help getting ready for bed?”

She glanced at him once more, then walked off without saying anything. Remembering the note, he pulled it from his pocket. It read as follows:

I’m sorry to put her on you so suddenly.. I’ve been up all night by the phone wondering how to tell you. I suppose it is best to learn to swim by being thrown in the water. That being said, if anything is to happen to JiAn while I am away I will kill you.
Please try to read to her each night. You know you may use my things as you please. I’ll call as often as I can.
With love,
Your Dear Jihoon

He watched her disappear into a room, dressed and groomed for bed. He hesitated outside the door.

“Good-nite,” he began. “Would you care for a bedtime story?” She gave no response. Her back was turned away from him and she was wrapped tightly in the covers. “Well, I’ll do a short one. Your father’s note said so.”

He walked a little further in and searched for the books. With only the hallway light for assistance, he was surprised to find that there were mostly large stacks of classic literature that Soonyoung assumed was too advanced for someone her age. He pulled up a stool and started reading the first page of The Tale of Choonhyang. Not being much of a reader himself, Soonyoung read with immense interest, only stopping once he reached the third chapter and looked to see he had been going for nearly an hour. Brushing his teeth with Jihoon’s toothbrush, changing into Jihoon’s pajamas, and lying comfortably in Jihoon’s bed he fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning he was roused by a loud alarm clock. Seeing the clock at four-thirty he scoffed, then turned it off and went heavily back to sleep. The second time he was woken when a small hand shook his shoulder. He groaned.

“Uncle Soonyoung,” some high voice said to him. “I’m hungry.”

“What?” he replied softly, nearly refusing to wake up.

“Father makes me breakfast at this time.”

He shot up, suddenly remembering where he was. “Oh—of course.” He checked the time. It was ten minutes past five. Never in his life had he woken so early. “Well, what would you like?” She shrugged. “Well, what does he usually make you?” Again she shrugged. “Alright—Well, what’s the first food that comes to mind?”

“I don’t know,” she concluded, somewhat annoyed.

He stretched uncomfortably as she watched very closely. He took a cautious step in her direction but her eyes glanced judgingly between him and the bed and only stopped once he had pressed out every wrinkle. She sat on the floor with a toy as he stared nervously into the bright shine of the fridge. There were so many different things in it he half understood her uncertainty. He usually ate four large dumplings from the stand outside his apartment. Cooking was a poorer skill of his. Just as he had picked out a non-committal selection of easy food she might choose from, the phone rang.

“Oh! It might be your father.” He picked it up, but only the high-pitched voice of a woman inquiring about Jihoon came through. He explained that he was away on business. As the voice gave their name and number he watched JiAn yawn constantly from where she sat. He hung up the phone and called her over. To his surprise, she came without fuss. “Come and help me for a moment, will you?”

He acted as if he knew nothing of cooking, and warming two pre-cooked rice packages in the microwave, he handed her a case of pressed tofu to squeeze the juice from. Together they put the rice into them in concentrated silence. He stuffed one in his mouth and when she gasped shockingly he laughed. They were going to eat it regardless, he said. Well, they need to wait until they’re done, that’s how her father had always done it, she countered. He stuffed one very full of the rice and held it up to her. She cautiously opened her mouth. Chewing with a smile on her face she confirmed it was in fact just as good as if they had waited. Each one made thereafter was eaten immediately, and when he suggested she wash up and get ready she agreed amiably.

At seven thirty the sun was very bright and she was entirely ready. Even her hair had been put into a cute half ponytail. Wearing a buttoned shirt he had given Jihoon on the anniversary of their first year together and the same pants as yesterday, they walked in silence to catch the train. It was jarring to Soonyoung. He thought constantly of the first morning he had spent with them. JiAn had spoken so much that she often had to be redirected back to what she was doing previously. Now she was the most quiet and duteous 8 year old. He offered a few questions about her day, but she responded mostly with shrugs and nods. Reaching their stop she held his hand without prompt and walked easily out and up toward her school. She had not looked back to say goodbye, he noted, somewhat disappointed.

Unsure what to do with the remainder of his day he headed home. He knew her schedule naturally; school ends at 8, then, since it is Friday, she is picked up by her martial arts instructor, then afterward she is dropped off at home. He wasn’t sure how long that went, but felt vaguely like an intruder if he were to stay in the house waiting. Reaching his apartment, the front desk told him he had a call waiting. He picked up the phone.

“Good morning.”

His heart dropped. “Jihoon! Thank goodness.”

“Did something happen?”

“Oh, no.”

He was silent for some time. “—Well, I just wondered how it was going. I can get a sitter for the weekend if you’d like.”

He felt an odd sense of self pity at the words. “I don’t think it's necessary. Really, she’s rather precocial. She could be left entirely alone and I imagine you’d come back to see she’s cooked the both of you a meal and done all the laundry.”

“And what of you?”

“I suppose I’d just hold the door for her when she might need it.”

“I’m nervous,” he said quickly.

“What of?”

He hesitated. “Well—nothing—in particular. We’ve just never been apart for so long. You can imagine…”

“Oh, I miss you, too,” he was glad to hear Jihoon laugh. “But it’s just three nights and two days. And she’s the most agreeable little girl I’ve ever met so far. You’d think that row hadn’t happened at all.”

This seemed to satisfy Jihoon. They talked of nothing for the next half hour and sensing that he was overstaying his welcome on the phone, he cut their conversation after a few reminders of the weekend routine and a reluctant goodbye. At four o’ clock he took the subway to their house, but finding a lack of JiAn anywhere throughout it he broke into a cold sweat. He went back down and sat out on the stairs, hoping she was just a little late. To his relief a short white van came slowly up the street and the door was slid open to reveal her small, vibrant face. When he inquired the driver if something had happened, they explained that after class they stopped at a park. He sighed heavily, as if finishing an intense workout. Suddenly he was inquired:

“And—who might you be?”

“Oh! I’m—Well, I’m just looking after JiAn while Jihoon is away for business.” She walked
past him without interest. “My name is Kwon Soonyoung.”

They were clearly suspicious of this, however, not for long. JiAn had gone inside previously but came back out now to mumble “Uncle Soonyoung, I’m hungry,” in an annoyed way. Compromising on a simple meal where the most he had to do was make a rolled egg and cook sausage, she produced a sheet of completed homework and finally retreated to her room. He debated for several minutes in a nervous pace whether or not to talk with her, but feeling ridiculous after a while he entered her room. She glanced impassionately at him for a moment then went back to her book.

“I know you’ll be busy with a sleepover tomorrow, but how about Sunday afternoon we go to the mall and get your father a present? To show him we’ve missed him.”

She thought for a long minute, and with a flash in her eyes said: “Okay.”

Soonyoung left her to what she had been doing, very proud of himself. Their relationship still seemed stiff and filled vaguely with antipathy but he had made a step in the right direction. He would win her affection with shared excitement and that general feeling that comes from being surrounded by bright colors, expensive clothing, and sugary food. He imagined they would start by visiting her favorite stores to browse, perhaps buy a new toy, and then make their way to the aquarium. She would be so fascinated and glance so often that he would suggest they go in. Squealing with delight he will have earned her liking, feeling only a little sorry for taking advantage of her simple, young mind.

The following morning, having eaten the same meal as the night previous, a phone call came shortly after. It was Jihoon. He stayed endearingly silent after greeting as he did normally, and then the phone was handed to JiAn by request. She seemed to have the same discreet enthusiasm. They greeted each other silently, discussed each hour they had been away from each other in rapturous detail, then made plans for the evening of their reunion. Each sentence thereafter began with, “And, you know..” to extend the conversation as long as might be possible. Sitting and watching television, only an hour later did the call end with an uproarious and drawn out “Bye-bye!”

From then she was so cheerful that it felt suddenly as though they were the best of friends all along. Any suggestion of things to do seemed fit, even a suggestion of coloring was agreed to and entertained for the latter half of the hour. When the radio was turned on they exchanged half hearted notes with little embarrassment, and as he clumsily prepared a bag for her sleepover she helped with gleeful delight.

“Uncle Soonyoung,” she said.

He was unaware of a child’s ability to manipulate. He imagined her to be only the angel that he was described by Jihoon and now thought all children to be. “Yes, darling?”

“Don’t you think it would be a nice surprise to get Dad a cute puppy? Better than any flowers or—anything!”

She had a large smile and asked so innocently that it seemed only fair for them to take a short look. Walking about with her hand in his and the small toy pressed tight between her small arm and right near her heart to him in that perfect moment, on that perfect day, it made the most perfect sense in the world. Who best to know what to get someone that one that they love most? And a child so innocent could only have pure intentions. “Well, maybe not a puppy..”

This began a long process of comparing each dog the age most becoming of their breed. Finally, which would be most affectionate. Nearly two hours later they were leaving with a small dog in a cardboard box and all the most basic supplies. She even allowed Soonyoung to carry her across the street. For the remainder of the evening they sat in perpetual coos and “awe”s as they praised the small dog for no more than blinking. Both entirely satisfied, they put the dog in the newly set up cage and arranged it all like one might a pile of presents, into Jihoon’s room.

At half past ten they sat giddily on the sofa as footsteps approached the door and the buttons were pressed. In came the stout figure they missed so dearly. He walked toward Soonyoung as he stood but JiAn had taken it upon herself to run past and throw her body entirely into him. She was raised and kissed and squeezed until she groaned, but if he were to set her down she would squeal unhappily and let her body go like a ragdoll. Soonyoung received no more than a smile. They began talking over and agreeing with each other on how their time together was while Jihoon had been away, but not shortly after the dog made a half bark-half whimper that could not be mistaken.

“Now—” he began carefully, setting her down. “What could that be?”

They walked toward the room together, each with varying levels of nervous excitement. Upon opening the door Jihoon gasped. There was a large pause as each waited for the other to speak.

“Did you get a dog?” Jihoon asked, disappointed.

Soonyoung frowned. “No, it’s for you. As a gift for your achievement.” When Jihoon frowned he continued, “Well, you see—JiAn and I were at the mall looking for a present and when we—-”

He was interrupted by a palm thrust in his direction. Jihoon looked at the young girl with dark eyes. “Go to your room.”

She walked with haste.

“Dear Jihoon … is something the matter?”

Jihoon took his hand and together they sat on the bed. The dog barked softly in the background as they talked.

“Soonyoung—you couldn’t have possibly thought this to be a good idea. You heard me expressly tell her no not long ago.”

He removed his hand and folded his own together in front of himself like a scolded child. “I figured—she was very convincing that you had now come around to the idea.” He knew this not to be reason enough upon hearing it said aloud, and quickly continued, “I suppose I was caught up in the moment. She seemed to like me so…” he broke off. “Well, you can’t blame her for much anything. I’ll take the dog myself and leave.” He picked up the cage and collected its things. “I’d understand if you think me to be—even a little.”

Jihoon was at a loss for words. So much so that he could hardly move. He felt torn between an incredible sense of pity and a profound confusion. Just as he feared when he left the ignorant optimism was unable to develop to such delinquent cynicism. He loved his daughter more than anything, but raising her with the values he possessed and few ways to balance it with the aspects of himself he knew well to be faults were something he worried long about. Now he was only proven correct by his hesitation to introduce the almost childish bliss of his lover to something he had occasional trouble with himself. Soonyoung apologized again when he opened the door.

“Give JiAn my goodbye.”

Jihoon said suddenly, as if coming exclusively and without will, from his heart: “I love you.”

“And I love you, too.”

The door was closed.

As the warm spring evenings turned to unbearable summer nights, Jihoon’s depression at the failed reunion of the two people he loved most was not unnoticed. It was most clear to JiAn, who could only half realize that it had been her fault. It started first with her father’s dark eyes. They would previously shine at most everything that she presented him, but now they only glanced curiously and then retreated with faux amusement. What made her most concerned was his half-hearted attempts to conceal it. They sat together and drew—something she knew to be a favorite activity of his—and each time she looked over to him he was staring blankly at the page. The crayon may have been moving but he was looking somewhere far past what he was filling.

That same evening she decided to fix it however she could. She asked him for help on homework, imagining it would get him to smile like it did her teachers when she was successfully walked through a difficult problem. It hadn’t worked, and not needing help in the first place it seemed to only cause annoyance when she asked for confirmation after every problem, knowing they were correct regardless. She then tried showing a sudden interest in the flute. She had previously expressed a distinct hate for it, and the noises of which it produced. Her father insisted she would love having the knowledge. This plan she was very proud of herself for concocting and was excited to see work. He was express and excited as he set for her to have a few private lessons, but after the third one she knew the joy could only come from her interest in it, and that was difficult to maintain on even a subpar level.

It was when he came home late, looking dreamy and a little pink that she was given the idea. Her father’s friend that she strictly, but playfully, called “Seungcheol” was watching over her. He had a very hushed conversation with her father in the doorway. When her father left momentarily to change she went up to him. He pinched her cheek and smiled widely, but at her serious expression he wondered what was wrong.

“My dad seems—very happy.”

Seungcheol was visibly shocked at such an observation. “Yes, of course.”

“Did something good happen?”

He glanced at the door, and spoke in a poor whisper. “He went out to eat with Soonyoung.”

“Uncle Soonyoung?”

He nodded. “I think they finally made up after being upset with each other. Isn’t that nice?”

“Yes—” she said once, and then again in delayed understanding.

Following this she took several days to conduct and then confirm a plan. She risked scolding and punishment for three days by dragging her feet as they got ready. Once she even snuck into her father’s room minutes before the alarm was set to go off and disabled it. Waking him ten minutes later she noted how often he looked about, or where in the station they waited to board. Sometimes he was very worried and tapped his foot impatiently at the nearest entrance, other times he would glance either way or have her join him in leaning against a large advertisement.

One bright summer morning when the heat felt unbearable and the rain poured on and off as though it were, too, yawning awake only to fall back into a peaceful calm, they ran into Uncle Soonyoung. Though she was nonplussed, her father seemed panicked and uncomfortable. They waved casually to each other, but strangely to her, he gave no further interest in their being there. When she tried inquiring further about the matter, she was given only short, clipped dispassionate answers. It seemed odd to her that she would see him so bright if they had spent a day together, but now it were as though they had agreed to never be friends again. As they reached the school she decided to ask directly.

“Are you and Uncle Soonyoung fighting again?”

Her father made an unnaturally quizzical expression. “No, not at all.”

“Do you still want to get married?”

The look twisted now into one of genuine confusion. “Well, I would—much rather not speak—I remember you saying you didn’t like the idea.”

She nodded, but then explained that she was much older now. It had been nearly a year since that outburst, and getting to be nine means she had no time to reminisce on the past foolishness of her freshly eight year old mind. She knew it was not possible for them to marry, and the stunted happiness that he seemed to constantly express was boring her. (In reality there was a conversation had one day that cleared the matter up for her. One of the most popular girls mentioned that she would marry her father, and though others agreed, a young boy ridiculed them all. His lack of sentimental paternity cured them of childish wonders, but they would likely look on this memory fondly when they were older.)

“So you don’t care?” She shook her head. “And what do you think of him?” She shrugged.
“Well, why don’t we both pick you up from school later today?” She shrugged again. “Then it’s settled.”

In the nearly fluorescent evening sun she was greeted immediately by her father and the previously mentioned guest. The latter waved to her cautiously, but when she walked up to hug her father they instead each crouched to her level and took one of her hands.

“How was your day, Ms. JiAn?”

“It was okay.”

“And you’re fine with him joining us, right? He won’t believe me until he hears it from you.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

They argued over these two words for a meaningless ten minutes. She decidedly tuned the bickering from her mind and focused more on the people she saw, the things they passed, any small dogs they met. It would be some time before she understood any of the things that they argued over or the reasons they did so. Another person to ultimately bend to her whim was what her mischievous mind presented to her and she felt satisfied and happy and loved. When weighing it all in the past few days, she realized that the only love that was important to her was the one that she gave to her father. In times of delinquent rage she would give him the silent treatment, but upon further consideration of the enormity she felt the effect of the relationship had developed even beyond her knowledge, she instead began to proactively assuage what she had done in what ways her pride allowed. This was how it would be until she grew to the disagreeable teen years; then past them into the wild years of college when she too would learn how meaningless their passionate chase for each other had been, and how spectacular it was to have had it.