By Zephyria 
When did he find that? With a lukewarm expression, Eun-ha dragged his slippers toward him and reached out. He snatched the object from Yeon-jun’s grasp as if stealing it. It was a frame holding a childhood photograph. A photo from a spring day, taken while smiling brightly against a backdrop of a field of forsythia flowers.
Yeon-jun didn’t seem to mind the displeased reaction and shifted his gaze. He continued to scan the top of the cabinet, where several similar frames were placed, his eyes still filled with emotion.
Eun-ha let out a cold snort. He felt awkward because Yeon-jun was acting as if he had discovered the smallest, most precious thing in the world, so he snapped.
“What are you looking at? You act like you’re here on a field trip.”
“But it’s so cute, what should I do…”
“Exactly, what do you want to do about it?”
“You look exactly the same as you do now.”
“Nonsense…”
“How old were you here?”
Unbothered by the prickly response, Yeon-jun pointed to a photo. This time, it was a picture taken while standing on a rock in a valley. Captivated by it, Eun-ha searched his mind for a moment before shaking his head slightly.
“I’m not sure. Maybe six?”
“Do you remember this time?”
“…Vaguely.”
A few fragments came back faintly. The moment he stepped out of the car upon arriving at the destination, memories of playing in the water with his Noona, the memory of cooking ramen in the evening—scenes of enjoying a camping trip like an ordinary, harmonious family.
And the image of his father, who had knelt on the stone path, bringing the camera to eye level and calling Eun-ha over to take this photo.
Yes. There was a time like that. That father, when he kicked Eun-ha out of the family home, had attempted to erase every single trace of Eun-ha embedded in the house. Eun-ha’s room. The things inside it. Everything, without exception, including the items containing childhood memories and over a decade’s worth of photos.
He had been adamant despite his Mom’s tearful pleas, and in the face of a father whose attitude seemed to entirely deny the existence of his own child, Eun-ha’s emotions had similarly died. He had stood by with a poisonous, “let it be” attitude. That such things weren’t the slightest bit precious to him either. That it didn’t matter whether they were thrown away or not.
Of course, his Mom couldn’t just stand by and watch, and under her guidance, some of the old belongings that had nowhere to go moved into this house. Middle and high school uniforms, graduation albums, and albums containing childhood photos.
And the person who had displayed this framed photo on the cabinet, after it had been tucked away in a corner of the storage room since its arrival, was none other than Kim Ji-woon.
‘Eun-ha.’
It happened in an instant. A voice echoed in his head like an auditory hallucination. Along with the face of a certain time, smiling playfully while dangling the frame, saying he found it while cleaning the storage room.
He felt a sudden illusion, as if someone were gripping his throat tightly. With a sensation of his breath being cut off without warning, Eun-ha furrowed his brow and slowly looked back.
The kitchen and living room, where sunlight poured in through the window. No matter where he looked in this overly familiar space, a blurry image of his past self was drawn. Just like that, memories poured out before he could do anything. That it was fine. That things like this were nothing. That he could organize and dispose of it all quickly… as if mocking the version of himself from just a moment ago who had considered it a non-issue.
At the same time, a sense of emptiness filled him. A hollow feeling, as if the ground he was standing on had suddenly collapsed. At that anxiety, feeling as though he might fall forever, he gasped for air and crouched down. He gripped the dresser, pressing his other hand firmly against his solar plexus. As he tried to settle his churning, nauseous stomach, the boy’s hand soon touched his shoulder. He looked at him intently and asked if he was okay.
Amidst the sudden chaos, Eun-ha looked at Yeon-jun. Led by a hand that carefully supported his cheek and lifted it, he raised his head. The moment his gaze locked with those pitch-black pupils, an inexplicable surge of emotion welled up. He hated it; he felt an urge to push him away and run without reason. Furthermore, an impulsive and destructive urge to just break everything.
After that, there was the feeling of a hand stroking his back and a voice speaking kindly, but it didn’t quite reach him. Struggling to escape the terrible sensation, Eun-ha barely managed to open his mouth.
I’m okay.
He didn’t like this feeling.
* * *
In truth, Eun-ha was somewhat weak when it came to memories and sentiment. In reality, not just “somewhat,” but very much so.
Thus, as time passed and he looked at the photos and uniforms his Mom had protected, he secretly breathed a great sigh of relief. That it was a relief they weren’t thrown away. That they actually were precious. That it was impossible for it not to matter. That he couldn’t have been indifferent. That it was truly a relief…
They say blood cannot be deceived; he wondered what it would have been like if he had resembled his father in that regard. If he had been a cold person capable of cutting off even family depending on the situation. A person who could wisely separate emotion from reality.
Eun-ha knew well that he was the type of person who could never be that way. He was well aware of his own lack of cold-heartedness in certain areas. Indecisive, lingering, soft.
‘I’m really exhausted, Eun-ha.’
That was why he had ended up clinging to a cheating bastard, only to be faced with a look of utter disgust.
‘Let’s break up.’
It was after his mind had spun wildly and then finally calmed down. While sitting on the living room floor, sorting through items dragged out of a room one by one. Unconsciously recalling the past, Eun-ha’s movements gradually slowed.
It was around this time. Exactly three summers ago. He had collapsed somewhere around here, weeping miserably and begging Kim Ji-woon. Having completely lost his reason, he had cast aside all dignity and pride, screaming. He had literally begged. Not to do this. Not to do this to him.
He felt an endless sense of unfairness. Why do we have to break up? Hyung is the one who did wrong, Hyung is the one who should be sorry, and Hyung is the one who should be begging me, so why is Hyung saying that? Why am I the one who has to be afraid that we’ll actually break up? What did I do wrong? How can Hyung do this to me…
“Hyung.”
“Yeah.”
“Do we have to organize this right now?”
Unable to watch Eun-ha continue the sorting with a face pale with distress, Yeon-jun asked. Instead of answering, Eun-ha just stared silently at Yeon-jun. He continued.
“Until when did you promise to finish organizing?”
“Within about ten days.”
“Then we still have time, so let’s do it next time.”
“What difference does it make if we do it next time?”
“Let’s tidy up here roughly and go to a restaurant you like.”
“I have no appetite.”
“I’m sorry.”
“….”
“I didn’t know you’d find this so hard.”
That he had thought too lightly of it, that he thought Hyung had no particular ill feelings toward that person. That he didn’t know it would be like this… In the voice that continued like a confession, an opaque moisture lingered. The face he looked at had an expression as if he were the one about to cry.
A face clearly etched with an unwarranted sense of guilt.
Eun-ha thought. No matter when he looked at him, this boy had a personality that didn’t match his face at all.
How can he be like this? Letting out a dry laugh, Eun-ha twisted his lips as if asking if that was acceptable. He spoke slowly.
“If I’m struggling this much…”
“….”
“You shouldn’t be sorry; you should be angry. You should be offended.”