17.5
Mid-August

The air around the table was stagnant, or more stagnant than usual at least. As an only child, and with his parents being a good 30 years older than him, Youngjae was used to the extreme silent of the dinner table. This was thicker however; the kind of silent that only spoke of bad things that he was still not yet of age to speak on.

Five months. He took a slow bite of his bread roll. Five months, and then I’m eighteen. He knew that realistically, before he’d even settle his place in Grown Folks Business, he had college, somewhere probably far away and out of state, and only when he got back would he be considered grown and be able to guard the estate like his dad. He was also aware somewhere in the back of his mind that guard would be extremely boring and tedious, and he’d most likely spend hours patrolling the same area back and forth and only occasionally going out and exploring. He liked to push those thoughts far into the back of his mind.

He focused back into reality as his father cleared his throat, signaling that he was about to say something important.

“Youngjae,” the man started, his voice as gruff as always, “tonight, me and another few guards are going patrol in the woods. Apparently there’s a bunch of looters going around on that side of the property. I want you to stay in your room and keep the lights off. This’ll all be over before tomorrow anyway.”

Youngjae nodded casuallyーit wasn’t the first time he’d been put on lockdown, and he doubted it would be the last. He found himself instead more troubled by the raiders. Were they the same raiders from January? How long had they been there? If they were still causing trouble all these months later, how were the Jung brothers faring over? How was Daehyun faring over?

The thoughts pulled a frown to his lips before he could stop it, and he felt his mother’s concerned gaze on him. He forced a smile to his face. “How’s your gardening going Mama?”

She smiled back to him, just as fake. “I planted plenty of beets and collards, and I brought the flowers inside to protect them from the frost. Would you like to come see them?” Youngjae looked to his dad, who gave a grimace of a smile and waved dismissively towards them.

Quickly, Youngjae piled his dishes and sat them in the sink before coming to his mother’s side where she waited for him in the doorway.

Mrs. Yoo spent was not one to beat around the bush, and as soon as they were far enough out of hearing she spoke. “What is it that you found in the woods that has you so troubled?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Youngjae shot back instantly, his steps coming to a pause. Mrs. Yoo remained as calm as ever, although a flicker of amusement played across her lips.

“You are a truly horrible liar. Anytime someone mentions those woods, you start smiling like there's no tomorrow. You talk about them rigorously. You sound less like someone talking about the unknown and more like a traveler talking about his favorite expedition. You were looking, and you found your Holy Grail. All I asked is what it was.”

Youngjae swallowed thickly, and then grasped his mother’s aging hands in his. “I really don't know what you're talking about Mama.” He gave her a soft smile that felt like a grimace under his strain.

She stared deeply into Youngjae’s eyes, her own warm and searching. “You know it's rude to fool with the elderly, right?” She squeezed his palms, before detaching herself from him and making her retreat. “Goodnight, baby. Don't let the bed bugs bite.”

⁑

Youngjae sat gazing out the window of his room, his nose pressed flat against the cold pane. These days, he could pinpoint exactly where the stream was, as well as where the Yoo’s part of the woods broke off into the fields, and he swore that the tall tree not more than half a mile in was his tree. If he lit a candle, he'd probably be able to make out whether the shadowy figures swaying in between trees were raiders, or Pa and his guard, or just a woodland creature on its way home. Whichever it was, Youngjae’s eyes followed them with sincerity, feeling dull relief when he realized it was nothing but a squirrel or a bird, and a nauseating dread when he realized that his Pa would never treat a horse that roughly, so it couldn't be nobody but a raider. He felt himself get more and more nervous by the minute, yet made no sign of moving from his spot on the window sill.

On one hand, he wanted to run out there and do something, and on the other he was aware that he couldn’t do anything. He sighed, and his breath fogged the window and blurred his vision, before slowly fading again, at the exact same time as a dark figure rushed out of the woods and straight for the Yoo residence. It paused at the porch, examining his Mama’s freshly planted garden, and then its peering eyes turned towards Youngjae’s window, and then to Youngjae himself. Frozen in fear, it didn't occur to him to pull the curtains and run for a weapon until the raider was climbing up the side of his house. He yanked the blinds shut and dropped to his hands and knees by his bed, eyes desperately attempting to find the rifle in the pure dark of his room.

A soft thumping on his window sent his nerves haywire. He glanced behind him, vaguely noting how the raider’s shadow loomed ominously over him in the dead of the night.

“Youngjae…” A dizzying wave of nausea crashed into him. “Youngjae...it’s me.” The voice sounded rough and irritated.

“Who are you?” he whisper-yelled, somehow still remembering to consider his mother despite his nerves.

The voice seemed hesitant, before replying, “Yongguk. Do you not remember me?”

Youngjae took a tiny step into the light, and then stopped again. “How do I know if it’s really you and not just somebody pretending to be you?”

‘Yongguk’ grumbled something fierce, and then audibly took a deep breath. “I know that Daehyun talks about you so much that I’ve memorized how your sandwiches taste like. You add two slices of meat, and you go easy on the mayonnaise and like to peel off the crust of your sandwiches and eat them separately for God knows why, andー”

Youngjae whipped the curtains back open, staring into the grim face of the oldest Jung brother.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked, his manners temporarily depleted in result of recent events.

Even so, the only reaction he got from Yongguk was a muffled scoff. “Is it rude now to come and check on someone? Remind me next time something like this happens to just leave you to your own wounds.”

“Who said I was wounded?”

“It doesn't matter. Are you going to just let me freeze to death?”

Youngjae eased the window sill up, careful not to drop it even after being hit by a gust of strong fall wind.

There was a long silence while Yongguk observed the bedroom and Youngjae shifted from foot to foot. Eventually Yongguk's eyes made their way back to the boy, this time having lost their seriousness and looking plain bored. “I guess you're safe.” he stated plainly. “My job is done. Have a good night, Youngjae.” He turned to go back out the window, only being stopped by the high pitched ‘WHAT?’ that screeched its way from Youngjae’s throat. “I thought you’d appreciate someone to come and check on you. If it makes you feel more at peace, my brothers and I are doing well. Himchan still seems to dislike you, I don’t really mind, the others don’t care, and Daehyun is the same as he's always been.”

Youngjae started to argue, before sighing and letting the older continue.

This time Youngjae followed behind him, watching him skillfully climb down the side of the house and then trudge his way through the snow, leaving deep footprints behind him.

⁑

When he woke the next morning, the first thing Youngjae did was rush to the windowsill. The snow had melted away under the early Fall sun, and there were no footsteps to be found.