"Abeoji!" 

        I can hear Hyukshin yelling from the bathroom with the sink to its highest water pressure. He's got strong lungs. I dry my hands and poke my head out of the bathroom door.

        "I'm right here, bud," Hyuksoo says calmly. "Ask your noona."

        I turn off the light in the bathroom and lean on the back of my couch next to Hyuksoo. Our shoulders bump together a little but he makes no effort to move. It's only been two weeks, but he is really comfortable with me. Could he possibly . . .

        No, no. That's stupid, Chaerin.

        He clears his throat, breaking my weird thoughts.

        "I'd like to go to the park," I say dumbly. "It'll be fun, I think."
Later
        I pull up in the parking lot and turn off the car. 

        "We're here!" I announce happily, especially because the last time I went to the park I was trying to do some running challenge to get in better shape. I gave up the first few minutes. That was last year.

        "Where's the restroom?" Hyukshin asks from the backseat.

        "Do you need to go?" I ask.

        "No," he responds, "I would just like to know in case I do."

        "I can show you."

        "Abeoji! Can I go play on the swings?"

        "Sure! Just be careful, bud! Don't use the ones for the big kids! It's a long way down if you fall."

         Hyukshin heeds the warning, running toward the tall swings but quickly veering to play on the short swings. He stops next to a very cute little girl, motioning to the empty swing next to her. She looks up slowly, nods, and grins at him. He plops himself on the seat and pumps his legs to get him going. She turns to him, mouth moving again. He gets off of his swing and pushes her. Once she gains momentum, Hyukshin gets back on his swing and joins her. He points at her legs, then his own. He's trying to show her how to push herself. She giggles, mimicking his actions. She stares at him for a moment with a lovey-dovey expression.

        A small grunt escapes Hyuksoo's throat. "He gets more girls than I do," he jokes bitterly.

        "I find that hard to believe," I say earnestly, looking up at him.

        "Well, believe it. Would you like to have a seat?"

        We sit on the nearest picnic table, feet on the bench.

        "She is absolutely gorgeous," I say, referring to Hyukshin's new friend. "She almost doesn't even look like a real girl, but a pretty little porcelain doll."

        "Even her dress," Hyuksoo adds.

        The girl has long, lean limbs, pretty dark hair that falls in thick waves over her shoulders, small nose and small red lips, rosy apple cheeks, and big bright eyes. She has quite pale skin for a little girl. She looks delicate, almost frail.

        "Oh, my God!" Hyuksoo and I scream. There she goes, tumbling backward off her swing into the mulch. Her pink and red high waisted dress collects some of the wood on the ground, and so does her hair. A pair of black play shorts saves her from any embarrassment. Hyukshin jumps from his swing and helps her sit up. She crying, so he wraps his arms around her in a hug.

        I see her mother run over as Hyuksoo and I do. The three of us begin fussing over her. Her mother picks her up and kisses her face; Hyukshin brushes mulch from her as best he can, a somber expression on his face.

        "Are you going to be ok, sweetie?" I ask the girl softly. She shrugs a little, her sobs having died down.

        "Do you want to keep playing?" her mother asks. She shrugs again.

        "Are you ok?" Hyukshin asks. She looks at him and shyly buries her face in her mother's neck.

        "Did I do something?" he asks Hyuksoo.

        "She's just a little shy," smiles her mom, "that's all." Hyukshin nods.

        "I want to play with him," I hear the girl mumble.

        "You sure? No owies?" Her mother picks out the mulch in her hair. "Ok, baby. Have fun! Be careful, ok?"

        The little girl and Hyukshin run off to the slides.

        "Thank you for coming to see about my Subin," the woman bows. "She's my pride and joy."

        "I was afraid that she was hurt," I say.

        "We were watching our Hyukshin and she was near him," Hyuksoo adds.

        "Oh! You two have a beautiful, sweet little boy."

        I hold out my hands. "He isn't my son," I explain. "His dad and I are just friends. We've only known each other for a week or so."

        Hyuksoo nods. "He's only mine."

        "I'm sorry," the woman bows.

        "I'm a widower," adds Hyuksoo. The woman freezes, totally crestfallen. She doesn't know how to react.

• • •

        "Chaerin!" yells Hyuksoo. He's pointing at the top of a scaffolding.

        I see her; my legs are taking me to her as quickly as they can. My heart and mind completely calm but my body is scaling the side of the structure. My foot slips and my weight is forced into my left hand but I regain my footing. I make it to the top in what feels like three heartbeats.

        She's whimpering and totally bewildered.

        "Hello, dear," I smile. She leans toward me a little and holds out her hands. I take her small, warm paws and take them in my own.

        "I'm here, dear," I say softly. "I'm here."

        She falls into my arms, holding onto me for dear life.

        Someone calls the fire department. I can distantly hear the sirens of the fire engine, but my world right now is this girl.

        "Miss?" calls a muffled voice through a bullhorn. "Are the two of you all right? It won't make much sense to use a ladder as of this moment, and us climbing the scaffolding would do more harm than good. You will have to jump or lower yourselves into the net we have down here. The elder of you two should look at it, and ensure that the younger get down first safely."

        I look over the edge of the scaffolding platform over my shoulder. The net looks sturdy. Maybe I can climb down a little bit and drop her closer . . .

        "Climb onto my back, sweetie," I tell the girl, loosening her grip on me. She nods and gets onto my back.

        I maneuver to the edge of the platform and secure her legs around my waist. "Hold on tightly, you hear? Ok?"

        I can feel her nod against my back.

        I slowly climb down back the way I came, making sure to keep her over the net. If I die here, it won't matter. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if she fell to her death.

        She's slipping. Fifteen feet is way closer than twenty-five, so she should be ok if she falls. Maybe I can get us five feet closer to the net.

        She finally falls . . . safely into the net and into the care of the fire department and the emergency medical technicians.

        keeps moving. "Hippo," she whines. "Hippo."

        I take her hand in mine. "Where is Hippo?"

        She points at the top of the scaffolding.

        Without much thought, I'm climbing back up the structure. Hippo turns out to be an old, little stuffed rabbit. He's cute. He's going back to his girl.

        I can climb back down without such effort. I tuck Hippo into the waistband of my shorts and make my way down.

        My foot slips on one of the bars and I shriek a little. Almost there. Don't choke now. Remember the net. Remember . . . the net.

        My elbows don't want to bend anymore. My hands stop working. I'm in the net, clutching Hippo to my chest. One of the EMTs takes him from me and hands him to the little girl. 

        I roll off the net ungracefully and crawl to a tree stump. I lean back against the stump and sit on the ground, trying to process exactly what I did.

        Someone's draping an orange blanket around me. I look down at the fabric, then up at the man who put it there, then back at it and back at him.

        "What is this?" I ask.

        "It's a blanket." He looks slightly amused.

        "It's warm out; why do I need a blanket?"

        "It's for shock, miss."

        "I'm not in shock. I don't need it." I try to take it off but he puts it back on me.

        "Just hold on to it," he says softly.

        I glare at the blanket for a moment. Well, it smells nice. And it's pretty soft. A chubby little dog waddles up to me and her head to one side.

        "They keep putting this blanket on me," I say to her absentmindedly. "I don't need it. Really."

        She runs away, and Hyuksoo and Hyukshin run up to me instead.

        "Chaerin!" the elder cries. He reaches out and puts a large hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right, my friend?"

        "I've got this blanket," I say, holding it out. "I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!"

        Suddenly I'm making this terrible face and tears are streaming down my cheeks.He wraps his long arms around me, pulling my head into his chest and burying his face in my hair. I hold onto him for dear life, wailing loudly. I'm making so much noise, and I don't care. Why am I crying? I'm safe. The girl is ok. What's wrong with me?

        A small, warm body crawls into my lap. Hyukshin wiggles in between us and puts his head under my chin.

        "Let's get you home, ok?" Hyuksoo suggests.

        I soon find myself lying on the back seat of my car, my head on Hyukshin's lap. I'm still crying miserably, just as much as the park.

        The boys take me home. Hyuksoo lays me on my couch and drapes another blanket over me. He puts a glass of water and some tissue on the coffee table. Hyukshin cuddles with me underneath the blanket. He stays still as I release heaving sobs into his hair. He's so nice.

        I smell food a while later. I'm hungry, but I don't feel like eating.

        Hyuksoo places a tray of food on the coffee table and sits next to me on the couch.

        "All right, Lee Chaerin," he smiles. "Can you sit up for me? Let's get you to eat something, ok?"

        I nod, the tears still falling. I sit on the floor in front of the table and he drapes the blanket over my shoulders again.

        "Here's a light soup. I know you probably aren't sick, but it's warm and it makes me feel better when I'm sad."

        I pick up the spoon shakily and . . . almost drop the metal utensil in my lap. I whimper a little.

        "It's ok, it's ok," Hyuksoo says gently. "You're ok. See? It's fine. Let me help you."
He wipes away some of my tears with a tissue and picks up my spoon, a hand on my back to steady me.

        "It's hot," he warns.

        I sip the small amount on the spoon, instantly feeling better. It tastes like something sweet and lovely.

        "Is it ok?" he asks.

        I nod weakly. He puts a tissue in front of my nose and pinches my nose lightly.
"Blow, if you will."

        I look at him questioningly. He smiles a little.

        "I have a four-year-old. I don't care if you accidentally blow your nose into my hand."
I giggle lightly and he grins, happy to have made me smile. I blow my nose and pull a weird face as he throws the tissue away.

        "There," he smiles, poking my nose lightly with his finger.

        He picks up the spoon, offering me some more soup. His grip on the spoon falters as he looks back up at me. My face is no doubt doing something really ugly as another wave of tears hits me. I keep trying to smile through it because I'm happy.

        "What's wrong, dear?" Dear. He called me dear.

        "Y-y-you're . . . " I stammer.

        He nods slowly, encouraging me to keep talking. "Yes? What am I?"

        "You're . . . "

        "What am I, Chaerin?"

        "You're so nice!" I manage to get out, probably incoherently.

        His cheeks flush a little and he tilts his head to the side, wide eyes studying me.

        "Do you think so?" he asks softly.

        I nod, still sobbing grossly. He rests his hand on my head gently and pulls me into a hug. He lightly and gently rubs circles on my back and places my head on his shoulder. The action puts me in mind of my dad comforting me when I came home crying after  a stressful physical education class. I don't know why I'm so surprised at how caring he is; he has a little boy of his own. Maybe it's because he's so close to my age.

        He pulls back, hands still on my shoulders. "How do you feel?" he asks.

        "Thank you for taking care of me, Lee Hyuksoo," I say.

        "It's the least I could do. You looked disturbed after you saved that girl. And I'm right next door to you."

        I sit back on the couch and put my head on the armrest.

        "Let's try the soup another time, I guess," he smiles, pushing away the tray a bit.

        I nod thankfully. He takes the tray to the kitchen and resumes his seat on the floor.

        I can't keep my eyes open. Today was so stressful, Lord knows. I just want to sleep . . .

        I can feel a pair of arms slip under me and lift me from the couch, albeit awkwardly. Hyuksoo carries me to my room and lays me on the bed, tucking the covers around me. The kind action is not without a small struggle. I know this because I am still in the early stage of sleep, the stage in which one is aware of their surroundings but can't interact with other things because their eyes won't open and their muscles are relaxing.

        "Good night, Lee Chaerin," he whispers. "Sleep well and have nice dreams. It's been a long day for you, hasn't it? You probably can't hear me. But anyway, rest well."

         Someone presses a small kiss to my forehead, and I find myself oddly hoping it was Hyuksoo.

         "Good night, Noona," Hyukshin murmurs, not quite developed in his whispering skills. "Rest well and dream well. You were really cool today. I'm really proud to call you my noona."

        That makes me feel warm inside, and I think I smile. I feel a large hand brush against mine and I try to find it. I locate the hand and squeeze a few of its digits. Please don't go. I'm still scared.

         My arm is covered by the sheet and blanket, and Hyuksoo tugs the covers under my chin, patting me on the shoulder. I can imagine him doing the same to Hyukshin at night, probably kissing his son's face and hugging him, too. It makes me miss my mother and father tucking me in at night. I can feel my face contort into an expression of annoyance and sadness.

         Hyuksoo my cheek with the back of his hand lightly and I relax. He doesn't like me. He doesn't like me. He's just doing that as a parent, and I'm like someone he's babysitting. He doesn't like me. The touch is affectionate, but parent to child affectionate. He doesn't like me. It felt . . . peaceful, good even. He doesn't like me.

         I hear my door shut quietly, taking with it the sound of my friends' breathing. I can still feel the touch of the lower joints of his fingers on my skin. My parents never touched my face when I was asleep. If they did, I never remembered.