o7

Yongguk leant against the wall and looked at those smokes slowly faded away between the white clouds. He was so empty that time. Nothing remained inside of his mind besides the last word that his father said to him—which already became a memory now.

Something that he couldn’t turn back anymore.

“Yongguk-ah,” his mother touched his shoulder, making those guy turned as respond. “The cremation has done.”

Yongguk found that his mother was looking so tired, with both dark circles under her eyes and pale thin lips that pressed tightly together. He wondered why. He thought she must be so happy after his father’s suicidal which means that she finally got her long-waited freedom, to be able to start her new life again like what she always wanted.

But the person in front of him was no more than a full of sadness woman—someone that was looking so hopeless after her husband’s death.

“Are you going with me?” she wondered.

Yongguk nodded, without thinking much about it.

His mother was the only family that he had now and he couldn’t let her live alone after everything she went through. Like what a normal son’s thoughts, he considered himself as someone that must replaced his father’s responsibility to take care of his mother, to give a shoulder on her hard times. He had to be with her no matter what.

He didn’t want to make any mistake again.

“Let’s go,” she forced a thin smile, before patting on her son’s back for a short while and walked away first.

Yongguk sighed, turned back once to see how the smokes were completely gone now and how it told him that everything was over. It was finally becoming a memory, something that would stay on his mind for the rest of his life—something that he couldn’t change no matter what.

and something that would always haunting him as an eternal regret.

“Yongguk-ah, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t leave me.”

It was almost a year since his father passed away.

And Yongguk was already fifthteen, making him be able to get a part-time job in a ramyun shop everyday after school while his mother just got a good chance in an insurance office as an accountant. Their life turned a little better as the time goes by although both of them had to work hard for their daily needs and apartment installment—and Yongguk believed they became much closer through their same ambitious to get a better living.

Yet he wasn’t going to deny that he was still living under his father’s shadow everyday.

“Here’s the address lists,” the owner, Mr. Kim, pushed two piece of paper away.

Yongguk took them while slowly nod his head. The orders were growing a lot since it was the beginning of autumn, where everyone seemed to enjoy the atmosphere a lot while for someone like Yongguk, the laziness of well-off people was a bonus point instead.

“Hey, didn’t you say you need another part-time job after eight?” Mr. Kim asked.

And with that question, Yongguk’s eyes sparkled in excitement.

“Yes. Why?” he wondered.

“I have a friend that’s just opened a cafè and he said he needs an extra waiter. Maybe you can try there?” he offered.

“Really? Can you give me his address?” he quickly took the chance.

“Here you go,” Mr. Kim smiled, handing him a small white card which printed a name and address on it.

“Thank you,” he gave a deep bow.

“Nevermind,” Mr. Kim chuckled. “I see your hard work.”

Yongguk felt so much appreciated by all of his hard work after eight months being there more than got those job offer. He never thought that Mr. Kim would pay attention to him all this time which undeniably made him feel worthy.

“Thank you again,” he bowed for the second time.

“Yeah, yeah. Now, send this orders!” Mr. Kim playfully instructed.

“I understand,” Yongguk smiled, before turned around and walked out of the shop.

Once he got into the motorcycle, he just realized how beautiful the orange sky above his head was. It had been a long time since he really did look at the sky, really took his time to see his around. And as he did it—he couldn’t help but to remember those funeral day, where everything that he could see was a dark sky and smokes from the cremation.

And how his father’s voice kept resound inside of his head.

He quickly the bike, wanted to get rid off those uneasy feelings with drove it through the night road. He kept moving forward and forward, across the dried asphalt, passed by a row of shops that showed their bright lights, through the traffic of after-work hour—farther and farther. Like he was trying to leave something behind his back.

“Yongguk-ah, be careful on the way.”

In such a second, Yongguk saw a glimpse of carlight coming into his way and quickly squeezed the brakes as hard as he could. He felt his hands turned the steer due to reflex and fell off the ground after losing the balance even though he didn’t even actually hit those car.

He opened his eyes, finding out that he was laying on the ground with some people staring at him without even trying to help him out. After a short while, he began to feel the pain from his left leg that was strucked down the motorcycle but finally managed to get up by his own right before the car driver came out of his branded car. He glanced at that middle-aged man, whose looking not-so-concern about his condition since he took most of the time to check on his undamaged car instead.

Yongguk lifted the bike, aiming to leave the scene first since he didn’t think they need any discussion but those man held his bike to stop him. Yongguk turned and met with his aging face and a pair of his grey eyes—which looking like fake but Yongguk believed he was born with them somehow.

“Are you okay?” he plainly asked.

Yongguk cleared his throat before replied, “yes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t watch carefully,” he apologized, yet Yongguk didn’t really feel his sincerity.

“It’s okay. I was wrong too,” Yongguk forced a smile before remembered what he had to do. “I’m sorry but I have to leave.”

That man glanced at the box on the back seat before nodded in understand. “Alright.”

Yongguk watched him walking back to his car, getting ready to move it to unblock the way. It was when the car was finally slowly moving backwards a little that Yongguk frowned in disbelief. He thought he saw it wrong at first, thinking it was an impossible thing to happen but as those man drove his car forward passed by him—he realized it was really her.

Yongguk placed the last washed plate inside of the rack, before pulled down a rag to dried his hands while his eyes glanced at the clock that was hanging on the wall behind him.

It was almost eleven. And his mother hadn’t come home yet.

He threw the rag away and walked to the wall telephone, placing his hand on its white-coloured receiver but something eventually stopped him from lifting it up. He thought he had to wait a little longer, since she might still in the middle of an important meeting or perhaps, getting stucked with a bunch of works that couldn’t be left. He didn’t know which of the possibilities that he believed the most but he finally made a compromise with his ownself.

If she didn’t come home in ten seconds, he would call her without any doubts.

He leant against the wall, patiently counting inside of his head while keep staring at the telephone and right when he reached six, he heard the front door opened.

He walked outside the kitchen and saw his mother was placing her heels inside of the shoerack, wasn’t aware that Yongguk was standing in front of her.

Yongguk knew he had better not to jump into the main point right away but he just couldn’t hold back himself. He needed to know the truth.

“Was that you?” he asked.

His mother looked up in surprised, yet her expression quickly covered by pretending once she figured out his intention.

“You saw me?” she wondered.

Yongguk remained silence, thinking it wasn’t a necessary question afterall.

“Yeah. That’s me,” she finally revealed.

“And who is he?” he straightforwardly asked.

His mother walked pass by him, reaching for the refrigerator to find something edible. “It’s not like you need to know about him.”

Yongguk frowed. “I don’t need to?”

“He’s just a friend,” she took out a bowl of cold noodle. “Why?”

“I thought I ever see him somewhere before,” Yongguk tilted his head to the side, curiosed.

She turned, giving a brittle laugh. “Really? Like where?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, feeling something wasn’t going right at the moment. “Is he really just a friend?”

“Why, why? You sound like a protective mother,” she chuckled, switched on the stove to boil the water.

“You went out with him on your working hour—that’s why,” he tried to give a reason.

“If there’s really something important, I will definitely tell you,” she faced her son, trying to sweep his worries away with her smile. “Don’t worry. We will always be together, right?”

Yongguk didn’t know why he felt such relief after hearing her words. Maybe he was indeed afraid if she eventually found a nice guy to replace his father and decided to leave him as a bad memory. He might be just too much concerned about their life that was keep going forward, farther from the past where he trapped in—couldn’t accept the fact that she would meet so many guys and probably fell in love again.

And at that time, he realized how his mind was still revolving around his dead father, how he wanted his mother to stuck in the past like him too.

Because he just didn’t want to betray his father for the second time.