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Jeonghan has been taught, since young, that everyone makes mistakes.
At age five, Jeonghan threw a tantrum at the mall and embarrassed his parents in front of all other shoppers. He had to correct that mistake by going a week without chocolate. He grew up without a sweet tooth.
At age twelve, Jeonghan got into a fight with a bunch of boys from the class next door. His parents received a call from the discipline master and for disrespecting authority, he had to correct that mistake by going for detention. He got into several other fights after his first, but he knew better than to get found out again.
At age eighteen, Jeonghan tried to go against his parents' wishes. Instead of law, he wanted to pick the liberal arts. They told him he was making a mistake that would destroy his future, and he had to correct it by withdrawing from the school of liberal arts and going overseas to study law, just the way his parents wanted it.
At age twenty, Jeonghan gave in to Seokmin’s pestering and went to his first college party. He ended up getting thoroughly wasted and that night, he lost his virginity to a senior whose name he thought he wouldn't have to remember. Three months later, she contacted him and told him she wasn't going to be the one to raise the child. Their child. It was either he take full responsibility or she end the responsibility. He would end up remembering her name for life, for it’s the name of someone whose life he almost ruined.
That was the only mistake Jeonghan didn’t correct.
Instead, he took a leave of absence, took up three part-time jobs, and spent the next six months with her.
“The baby started kicking,” she told him when it was 25 weeks into her pregnancy and Jeonghan remembers almost dropping the apple he was washing. “I could feel him, or her, dancing on my cervix. What a little rascal.” She tried to keep the fondness out of her voice but both of them knew that she didn’t quite succeed.
In the end, she gave birth to a boy: 8 pounds, healthy and crying loud enough to burst Jeonghan’s eardrums.
When Jeonghan asked if she would like to hold him, she declined. Her only condition before they parted ways was for their child to take her last name, the only thing she wants to be remembered by, and so Jeonghan named him Lee Chan.
Lee Chan was an average-sized baby but felt so incredibly tiny when Jeonghan was holding him. It was too early to tell but Jeonghan still told everyone who knew that his son looked like the splitting image of his younger self. The first time he witnessed Chan’s small, wrinkly smile, Jeonghan forgot all about nine months of resenting the mistake he made that one night.
With his time divided between law school (he returned as soon as he found an apartment just two streets away and a caretaker who he could trust) and raising a kid on his own, Jeonghan had no time for anything else. When he wasn’t preparing Chan’s meals and changing his diapers, he was fighting tooth and nail to stay awake and prepare for his exams, law dissertation and job applications. Those were the days Jeonghan wished he could stay awake for the full 24 hours, and even then, that didn’t seem to be nearly enough.
Unlike his schoolmates, Jeonghan didn’t have any energy left for socialising, so he kept a mere handful of friends close and distanced himself from his parents to spare them the pain of having raised a son who let them down when they least expected him to. His younger sister is the only one in the family he still keeps in contact with.
It takes him three years to land a contract with a prestigious law firm, five years to become a successful lawyer, seven years to forgive himself for all the mistakes he has made, and nine years (and counting) to become the loving father Chan deserves.
Jeonghan was taught that everyone makes mistakes, and it is by making mistakes of his own that he learns that mistakes don't always lead to failure and misfortune. Now, he knows that just like how it is with Chan, mistakes can sometimes be the synonym for miracles.
It is finally graduation day. Obviously, everyone is more incredulous that they have indeed survived the ride to hell and back than happy that they can start worrying about more adult things like bills, taxes and marriages.
“There is nothing worth celebrating,” Jeonghan says, turning to face Seokmin, “And most definitely not under the scorching hot sun while wearing these ugly gowns.”
“Smile,” Seokmin replies, “The camera is going to be aimed at us soon.”
Jeonghan’s response is to walk away, searching the crowd for Jieqiong, an underclassman who has kindly offered to look after Chan until Jeonghan is done with the graduation ceremony, which is most definitely living up to its reputation for being a complete and utter waste of time. He finds them by the fountain, where Chan is gleefully playing with the water under Jieqiong’s careful watch.
“Hey,” Jeonghan calls out.
“Papa!” Chan replies, butt still facing Jeonghan, “Papa?”
“I’m over here, silly.”
Jeonghan is full of smiles when Jieqiong delivers Chan back to him. Chan is instantly distracted by Jeonghan’s gown and both Jeonghan and Jieqiong laugh when a tiny hand reaches out to trace the college emblem. It is a quietly blissful moment as they stand there, under the shade, watching Chan unleash his juvenile curiosity. The moment is over once Seokmin finds them and demands to fulfill his godfather duties by having his turn to hold Chan.
“Uncle Sock!” Chan greets. Jeonghan feels pride that his son has clearly inherited his skills of driving Seokmin up the wall.
“It’s uncle Seok , you little terror,” Seokmin says, but Chan’s fleeting attention is no longer on him, so he turns back to Jeonghan. “You know, we couldn’t really tell when he’s just born, but now, it’s getting obvious that Chan has her eyes,” he points, “But he definitely has your smile.”
Before Jeonghan can reply, Chan throws up half-digested oatmeal all over Seokmin’s graduation gown and everything goes to hell. Later, they find out from the camera has captured this perfect moment and despite Seokmin’s extremely violent protests, Jeonghan still end up sharing the photo on his Facebook timeline.
Yoon Jeonghan shared NYU School of Law’s photo.
May 16 at 8:36pm.
Definitely the most memorable graduation ceremony. Also, this picture is an accurate summary of my experience here. Thanks Lee Seokmin.
(Zhou Jieqiong, Kwon Soonyoung and 127 others liked this.)
Lee Seokmin You’re welcome. Oh and I hate you all. All 129 of you.
Unlike · Reply · May 16 at 9:46pm
Yoon Jeonghan Actually it's 130 because you forgot to count me. I can't believe people are going to hire you to be their finance lawyer. I should warn them.
Like · Reply · May 16 at 9:52pm
When Jeonghan left for New York, Seoul was waltzing with the heaviest snowfall of the century. His sister is the only one who came to send him off. She cried but he didn’t. Remembering how cold he felt that day, not from the snowfall, never fails to elicit a puerile sense of grief that has long since settled down in the marrows of his memory.
Seven years later, when Jeonghan returns, he isn’t alone. He greets his hometown with Chan’s hand gripping onto his last two fingers, wide-eyed and fascinated by everything he sees. Seoul is twirling with cherry blossoms. As myriads of pink and white cover the streets across the country, Jeonghan and Chan move into an apartment with a high ceiling, open-air kitchen bar connected to the balcony, and a view worth a million dollars.
It is definitely too extravagant, Jeonghan thinks this as soon as they step into the place, but Chan does not seem to mind.
“I like it!” Chan shouts from across the room. He is drawing with the crayons and sketchpad Soonyoung brought him, a study of concentration, and he doesn’t appear to be at all bothered by the adults watching his every move.
Jeonghan is only throwing the housewarming party because Soonyoung and Seungkwan, combined with Seokmin (who won’t be back until the end of the year, thank goodness), make the most persuasive (and pesky) trio. They refused to give up despite Jeonghan rejecting their idea more than ten times over the span of two weeks and only won the case because they resorted to underhand methods like planting the idea of “your house won’t be comfortable unless we visit and warm it up nicely, Chan, that’s why you have to ask your dad to throw a party” in Chan’s head.
Lawyers are the worst , Jeonghan swears to never bring Chan to his workplace ever again.
His thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of Jihoon, who is an hour late because he had a client to meet and also because he didn’t have time to get Chan a present after receiving the housewarming party invitation.
“Nice place,” Jihoon compliments and Jeonghan takes it as his way of saying ‘Hello’, ‘You’ve been missed’ and ‘Thanks for inviting me’ succinctly.
“Thanks,” Jeonghan says, “I definitely owe you guys one for finding me this place, and at such short notice too.”
Jihoon swipes the glass of champagne Soonyoung has previously set aside and takes a sip. “It’s nothing,” he says, “You had your hands full and honestly? It didn’t take much for us to pull a favour like this.”
“Nonetheless, I’m still thankful.”
Jihoon finishes the champagne as a way of accepting Jeonghan’s gratitude, much to Soonyoung’s chagrin when he returns from his heated debate with Seungkwan whether or not volleyball is the best teamsport of the year. Jeonghan doesn’t even want to know who won the debate.
“By the way,” Soonyoung says after getting himself another glass (but not before shooting Jihoon a death glare except there is no point because they all know Jihoon doesn’t have a soul and is probably already dead inside), “Which school are you going to send Chan to?”
“Seungkwan already recommended me one where a friend of his works,” Jeonghan answers. “It’s got a good reputation and it’s almost equal distance from here and from the firm. Sounds like the perfect school for Chan, to be honest.”
His friends nod their agreement.
“Dad!” Chan’s voice pulls them all from their conversation, “I smell something funny!”
“Oh shit,” Jeonghan curses, “There’s something I forgot in the oven.”
Their first (and Jeonghan hopes it is the last) housewarming party almost ends with an emergency evacuation and a dozen firetrucks.
"I'm not a baby anymore!"
Jeonghan doesn't look up from the kitchen counter, where he is making Chan a pancake-bear, completing it with blueberry eyes and chocolate mouth and nose. It has taken him no less than three weeks to perfect this dish. It takes Chan an average of about three minutes to finish it in giant bites.
"Oh yeah? Who told you that?"
Seeing that his father isn't going to look at him and recognize the weight of his declaration, Chan puffs an angry huff and moves to his usual seat by the window. He clambers up the chair after placing his backpack on the little stool next to the grocery basket.
"I don't need anyone to tell me that! I know I'm not a baby anymore. I'm older and stronger now. Plus, Mingyu hyung told me since I'm having my tenth birthday soon, I'm halfway there to becoming an adult like him! And like you, dad."
Jeonghan misses being called 'daddy' or 'papa' whenever Chan does this: making some important speech about him growing up, as if Jeonghan doesn't know it better than he does, and ends the speech by calling Jeonghan 'dad'. Or worse, 'father'. Nowadays, Chan also likes to point out all the things that have measured his growth, like the small oak tree in their backyard that isn't so small anymore, with limbs extended towards the sky as if it could touch the clouds. Years ago, it wouldn't have been able to carry Chan in its arms. With Jeonghan, that's quite the opposite. Chan is getting older and so is he.
“I see…” he mutters, “So this Mingyu hyung told you you’re not a baby anymore?” Whoever this Mingyu hyung is, Jeonghan thinks they need to sit down and have a talk.
“Yeah!” Chan chirps. He is still too young to sense that something is amiss. “Mingyu hyung is reaaaaaally cool. He can draw well, his singing isn’t bad, he can cook and bake, and he’s super tall!”
Even when he is done with his pancake-bear (this time, he names it Boo before eating it), Chan is still going on about how cool this Mingyu guy is. Jeonghan can’t help but feel jealous.
“Also, Mingyu hyung can rap!”
Jeonghan thinks, But can Mingyu hyung take a direct punch to the face?
As it turns out, Jeonghan doesn’t get the answer to that question, nor does he get to find out just how well Mingyu can rap. He does, however, get to see for himself just how cool and tall Mingyu is. He hates being wrong. Chan hasn't been exaggerating when he says that Mingyu is as good-looking as the actors he sees in dramas that he is still too young to understand. Mingyu has both the face and body of a model and Jeonghan doesn't want to admit it but he is momentarily attracted to the way the ends of Mingyu's lips seem to always be curling upwards, like a permanent almost-smile.
“Mister Yoon?”
Seated in front of the office desk, Jeonghan nods.
Mingyu cracks a grin and it is quite the distraction for Jeonghan, who has been taking note of all the things laid out on Mingyu’s table and trying to enlist their help in painting an accurate picture of their owner’s personality. So far, all that Jeonghan has got is that Mingyu is someone who chooses comfort over fashion, clutter over compartmentalisation, and Bleach over Naruto.
“I didn’t expect you to be so…”
“Young?” Jeonghan completes Mingyu’s sentence for him, “I'll take that as a compliment so, thank you. Seungkwan mentioned I’m just two years older than you.”
Still smiling, Mingyu nods, saying, “He also told me you’re a lawyer and an incredibly busy one at that, but you can somehow always make time for Chan.”
It is really irritating that there is nothing but genuine commendation in Mingyu’s words, and yet there is nothing to be done about it. Jeonghan has no choice but to swallow his plan to nitpick at everything Mingyu says and does during this parent-teacher meeting.
“He’s more important than my work.”
"I'm glad," Mingyu says. "Chan has been talking non-stop about his dad and how you're his favourite person and he wouldn't trade you for the world." He reaches into a folder at the edge of the desk, takes out a piece of paper, and hands it over to Jeonghan.
"We always have a theme when it's time for drawing class," Mingyu explains. "For the theme 'family', this is what Chan drew."
Jeonghan can't take his eyes off the paper. On it, Chan has drawn a big red heart, then a rainbow over the heart. In the heart, he has drawn a little stick-man holding hand with a bigger stick-man. There are other stick-men and stick-women behind, but it is obvious who is the most important one, the person Chan holds closest to his heart and happiness.
"You're a great dad," Mingyu finishes, "And you've raised a great son as well."
"Thank you," Jeonghan says, and he means it this time.
Before he leaves, Jeonghan remembers Chan’s request when Jeonghan told him about the meeting with his favourite Mingyu hyung. He turns around and Mingyu, who doesn’t hear the sound of the door closing, looks up to meet his gaze, looking a little confused.
“We’re having a birthday party for Chan this Saturday, around 6pm,” Jeonghan says, then, worried that Mingyu can’t tell that it’s an invitation, adds, “He really likes you so... If you’re free, you should drop by.”
There it is again. That wide, almost blinding smile that Mingyu brings with him wherever he goes. Jeonghan doesn't know he hopes Mingyu's answer is a yes until Mingyu gives it and Jeonghan lets out a breath he has been subconsciously holding.
"See you then, Jeonghan" Mingyu says. Jeonghan tries not to think about how he has gone from being Mister Yoon to Jeonghan in the span of one short meeting.
Hours later, when Chan is sound asleep and he has finished preparing his cases for work, Jeonghan finds that he still can’t erase Mingyu’s smile from his mind.