By Zephyria 
The next day. Arriving at the cafe as usual, Eun-ha discovered that a plant he had been paying close attention to lately had finally burned through its life and died. Clicking his tongue, Eun-ha crouched in front of it, fingering the crumbled leaves before shifting his posture to rest one knee on the floor. With practiced hands, he tidied the pot. He had lost track of how many times this had happened. But it was fine. He could just make it bloom again. It didn’t matter. He could repeat it indefinitely. No matter how many times it took. Without giving up.
He hesitated on his way out to smoke. In truth, ever since he started living with Yeon-jun, he had become frequently self-conscious about his smoking. Yeon-jun was a non-smoker and openly displayed a significant amount of concern for Eun-ha’s health. It was only natural that he didn’t look kindly upon Eun-ha’s habit. Whenever Eun-ha tried to smoke, Yeon-jun would quickly notice and try to distract him, or in some cases, subtly snap the cigarette in half. After experiencing such sabotage a few times, Eun-ha found himself thinking of the boy whenever he went to smoke. Though the instinctive urge to smoke surged, Eun-ha felt strangely unsatisfied and slid the half-drawn cigarette pack back into his pocket.
Well. Fine. He couldn’t quit entirely, but reducing it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Secondhand smoke was bad for the body, after all.
Despite not smoking himself—and despite the fact that his expression would immediately stiffen the moment he smelled smoke—Yeon-jun often trotted along beside Eun-ha whenever he went out to smoke. Recalling a time when he had felt awkward and overly mindful, trying to stay as far away from the boy as possible while smoking, Eun-ha sat at the counter. He turned on his phone.
Hyung
Do you want to go see Lulu?
A message had arrived from Yeon-jun. Lulu was his pet cat, whom Yeon-jun had shown him photos of several times as if boasting. In fact, his current profile picture was a photo of Lulu. Eun-ha thought for a moment before sending a reply. It was a sudden suggestion, but not out of the blue. The boy had mentioned going to see the cat in passing a few times, and Eun-ha had been curious about it.
Your parents’ place?
Yeon-jun’s family home was in the same neighborhood as Eun-ha’s. Since being kicked out of his own home, Eun-ha hadn’t set foot in that area for several years. Partly because he had no reason to go there, and partly because he had intentionally avoided it. He feared the slim possibility of crossing paths with his father. Eun-ha wanted to live the rest of his life without ever facing him again.
Thus, a brief moment of hesitation arose, but it soon became trivial. He wondered if anything would actually happen. They would be traveling by car, and once they entered the house, they would be alone.
Yes
The reply was fast, as always. It took less than 30 seconds for the ‘1’ to disappear. Recalling Yeon-jun’s schedule—which had been shared with him early on and which he looked at so often he had nearly memorized—Eun-ha narrowed his eyes. He should definitely be in class right now.
When?
Hmm
How about this Friday?
My family might visit over the weekend.
I don’t mind, but I thought you might be uncomfortable, Hyung.
At the suggestion to go on one of his free days, Eun-ha sent a short affirmative reply. After that, he added a sharp reminder not to touch his phone during class. However, instead of an acknowledgment, Yeon-jun simply sent a cute emoticon. At that attitude of dodging the situation, the expressionless Eun-ha let out a hollow laugh. Come to think of it, he was subtly slippery.
While he seemed to be diligent and sincere in his studies, he occasionally revealed an inner nature that viewed a student’s duties with laziness. Every time that happened, Eun-ha felt it was amusing. He thought that even if the boy had a mature side compared to his peers, he was ultimately just a child.
After adding the appointment to his calendar, Eun-ha sank into deep thought for a while longer. He pictured the neighborhood he had left long ago and sipped the iced americano the part-timer had made for him.
Returning to the neighborhood after roughly seven years, he found that many things had changed. New buildings had sprung up everywhere, and the commercial district was particularly unrecognizable. He constantly noticed unfamiliar signs hanging where shops familiar to his memory had vanished. Feeling a sense of strangeness, Eun-ha drove at a steady pace, glancing around. Although he had entered the address Yeon-jun gave him into the navigation, he barely referenced it. He already knew where the house was.
As Eun-ha remembered, his family home and Yeon-jun’s family home were less than a ten-minute walk apart. The route wasn’t complicated, and because the house was distinctive, the path remained faintly etched in his mind. Enter the alley next to the road with the tall hospital building, and it was the house fifth on the right.
Eun-ha parked in front of a long wall—a place more fittingly described as a mansion than a house—and stepped out of the car. It was autumn, and the sunlight was pleasantly warm. Eun-ha gazed at the back of Yeon-jun, who had also stepped out of the car and was leading the way. Even though it was just his back, it was clear he was excited. He had been like that since this morning. Transparently bright. What could be so great?
Despite thinking that, Eun-ha suppressed the twitch of his lips. He stepped through the heavy main gate.
The yard of the mansion was not significantly different from what Eun-ha remembered. However, because the memory itself was faint, it felt unfamiliar. The yard, which he had once thought was meticulously landscaped, remained well-maintained.
Remembering that there was uniquely a single pear tree on one side, he instinctively turned his head, and the canopy, pruned into a beautiful shape, immediately came into view. He could see fruit hanging from it. As he unconsciously slowed his pace to admire the tree, Yeon-jun, sensing the slowing presence, looked back. He followed Eun-ha’s gaze and let out a small “Ah.”
“It’s a bit unique, right?”
“It is.”
“My dad planted it a long time ago. When he had my eldest Noona, Mom couldn’t eat anything and only craved pears. He felt bad for her, so he just planted it. It wasn’t for the sake of picking and eating them, but because Mom was struggling while craving pears. He did it to make her feel even a little bit better.”
Eun-ha nodded as he listened to the explanation that it started that way, and since then, his mother had continued to care for it with devotion as a way of reminiscing about those days. He already knew this story. To be precise, he faintly—very faintly—recalled the fact that he had once known it. Long ago, when he used to visit this place frequently, it was something his girlfriend at the time had told him.
Of course, he didn’t let it show. Nodding as if hearing it for the first time, Eun-ha felt a slightly bitter sensation. It was because he had suddenly become acutely aware of the fact that this boy was the younger brother of his first and last girlfriend. He had known this fact for a long time, and he knew they were close enough that the boy saw his Noona two or three times a month, but experiencing it so directly made the feeling much stranger. Baek Ju-hee. I wonder if she’s doing well.
In the meantime, he followed Yeon-jun inside the entrance. The house, with no one around and the lights off, emitted a lonely atmosphere. Eun-ha followed Yeon-jun past the inner door. It was just as they were passing through the short hallway after putting on indoor slippers. Suddenly, at the far corner, a fluffy, ball-like object slowly revealed itself. In the moment Eun-ha recognized it with an internal “Oh,”
“Lulu.”