The first time they’re all home in three years is for their father’s funeral.

Eric is the last out of four to arrive, battered and beaten from the redeye coast-to-coast flight he’s had to endure, among other things, and his legs give way easily as both Minwoo and Hyori tackle him to the ground the minute the front door opens to let him in.

“Look at what the cat’s dragged in!” Minwoo whoops, no consideration whatsoever for the still-sleeping neighbors. He sits on Eric’s stomach like an overgrown cat. Hyori pinches the end of Eric’s nose and kisses the side of his head, making a face as she declares, “Ew, you smell like airplane.”

“It’s 6 AM for God’s sake, and it’s the morning of your father’s funeral. Have some decency.” Emily Mun shuffles out of the house in her silk kimono and shoos both Minwoo and Hyori off while helping Eric up. The air smells like spring and pancakes and calla lilies, and Eric’s stomach turns.

“Hello, eldest son.” His mother gets on her tippy-toes and pecks him on the mouth, lips perking up into a mischievous smile that does little to hide the grief in her eyes.

“Hello, Mommy.” Eric says, soft and almost defeated from fatigue. He melts into his mother’s hold as she embraces him, then quickly straightens as she pushes him back, saying “Let me look at you”, which is code for many things, such as “you’ve gotten thinner”, or “you’re not taking care of yourself enough”. Although there’s so much he wants to say, he stays silent and presses his lips together as she runs her fingers through his hair and pats his shoulders.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” His mother asks, peering behind him as though he’d hidden his wife there. When she sees no one, she looks back at him, eyebrows raised.

“She couldn’t take time off.” Eric says, and it’s partly true. His father died only yesterday and here they are already burying him, the expediting apparently his only clear request for any post-mortem arrangements. It seems only apt; his father had been allergic to attention, preferring to stay in the background while pushing his kids and wife to take over the spotlight.

Was. Had been. The words taste bitter on Eric’s tongue and nearly makes him choke.

“Pity.” His mother clucks, her tone flat. She’s never truly liked Hyunjin for reasons unknown and preferred keeping her at arm’s length. Eric isn’t quite ready to admit that maybe his mother had been right all along. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Have something to eat then freshen up. You did bring a suit, didn’t you?”

Ah . “No. I was in a hurry.” Seven hours ago he had been contemplating on something more than a suit for his father’s funeral, and the reality of it still hangs over him like an overcast cloud. He rubs a hand over his face. “.”

“No cursing.” His mother taps his mouth. Her fingers smell of lavender and butter. “It’s your father’s funeral. Anyway, he has a few spare suits that were too big so he’s never worn them. Try them on later.”

Eric nods mutely, ignoring Minwoo who’s pawing through his backpack for snacks and Hyori who’s criticizing his fashion choices. “Andy?” he asks, because he’s now seen everyone apart from his youngest brother, but knows he’s home given how the shoes in the mudroom are lined up army-straight.

“Asleep still. He took the train up from the city last night and apparently it’s been a busy week.” His mother explains, then nearly snaps her neck as she turns to Minwoo who’s already sneaking up the stairs. “MINWOO, DON’T YOU DARE.”

“I wasn’t!” Minwoo whines from the landing, although he totally was going to, whatever it was. Hyori laughs, almost hiccups, and hooks her arm around Eric’s neck.

“Hey, hey, the gang’s all here!” she sings then pinches his cheeks. She looks dazed, or drunk. Eric doesn’t know which, but secretly notes to ask her if she has extra Valium he can bum for later. Or weed. Weed would be better. “Dad would have been thrilled.”

Not really. James Mun would have been pissed as hell at them for creating such a commotion so early in the morning, but Eric doesn’t have the heart or strength to correct his twin.

“Breakfast?” his mother asks from the kitchen, already setting out plates and cutlery. Outside, the sun is only about to rise and stains the countertops an ashy gray. It’s only then when the light catches on the rings on her finger that Eric notices she’s now wearing two when all their lives she had stubbornly insisted on wearing only one, and the realization of his father’s permanent absence hits Eric like a speeding train.

“Bathroom.” Eric says then sprints off towards the downstairs powder room, hand over his mouth and blood pounding in his ears. When he slams the door to the powder room closed, the framed childhood pictures of him, Hyori, Minwoo, and Andy that hang underneath the giant BLESS THIS FAMILY sign shudder behind him, seconds before he promptly throws up all over their mother’s shag rug.

--

The funeral is disastrous from start to end.

One: It rains like a motherer, and the entire Cedar Crest Memorial cemetery is turned into a giant sludge pit within the first five minutes of the sudden downpour.

Two: Because they haven’t really told anyone and there’s been hardly any breathing room anyway from the time his father died at the hospital and the time they have to lower him into the ground, there’s only them and two guests: their longtime neighbor and surrogate uncle, Charlie Park, and his son, Junjin, who was part of their childhood gang of rascals, the only one closest in age to Andy. They both help carry the casket and Charlie slips and ends up nearly falling into the open grave himself, only able to narrowly escape when Hyori grabs the end of his suit jacket, thereby sacrificing her precious balance and possibly hundreds of dollars’ worth of beauty products as she tumbles onto the ground. Before the rites are even over, she ends up looking like a second-rate version of the Swamp Monster.

Three: Dongwan Kim a.k.a. the co-vice-head of their childhood pack along with Minwoo a.k.a. EroWan, their resident expert on the Kama Sutra and owner of the most extensive collection of R-18 tapes when they were twelve, is now Pastor Kim and is the one who speaks at the funeral, as if life isn’t enough of a riot already. Eric has to elbow Minwoo and Andy several times to keep from snorting during the ceremony, and Junjin gets a cuff to the head from his father when he coughs loudly and obnoxiously as Dongwan waxes nostalgic about “Uncle James”. All semblance of sanctity however is reduced to shambles when Emily Mun eventually also loses patience and snaps, “Yes we know, honey, now could you wrap it up, please, my are getting soaked”, and even Eric has to laugh, despite his ruined dress shoes and the glacier-cold water trickling down his back from where raindrops have managed to squeeze into the tiny space between his scalp and his collar.

His father would have loved it.

--

His mother requires them to stay with her at the family home, at least until Sunday.

“It’s bereavement. You’re bereaved. I believe you can take time off work for that.” His father’s long bout with cancer hasn’t softened Emily Mun a whit, and she stares her children down from the end of the dining table where they all now sit, soft and exhausted after taking several hot showers. On the varnished oak his father’s papers are all arranged by her clasped hands. Outside, it’s still raining.

Eric his lips but says nothing, determined to not have himself be the first to fall into this trap. There’s a will reading taking place on Saturday, but it doesn’t really matter, because it’s always been an open secret who gets what (their mother, mostly, while the four of them have to decide among themselves who wants the Coke can collection, the Olympic memorabilia, the art books, and the 35-year-old Plymouth station wagon that their father had loved and had painstakingly taken care of, and which had seen them through long, hellish drives to Disney World, the Grand Canyon, and Niagara Falls, with them all squashed together, all elbows and knees in the back, while trying not to kill each other over peanut butter crackers or the two Gameboys they had to share). Despite the insistence to live in one of the whitest neighborhoods in America, his father had also remained painfully and stereotypically Asian, so there are no debts – financial, at least – to be settled. None of them owe student loans, the house and cars are paid for, and everything is in working order. Their mother knows this well, of course, and uses it to her advantage.

“It’s the least the four of you can do for your father.”

The magic words. The Asian guilt. Eric catches as his siblings throw each other shifty-eyed gazes, as though secretly plotting escape.

“Of course, Mommy.” Minwoo says first, and they all pepper him with dirty looks while softly groaning in unison. Minwoo isn’t actually their biological brother, but their first cousin who was adopted when his own parents died in a car crash even before he could recognize their faces. Like any sibling, they love and hate him with equal measure. At this moment, however, the hate part is proving dominant.

“You -up!” Andy pelts him with an orange peel. They were supposed to set up a memorial service, a traditional one, for their father, but Minwoo ate all the chestnuts, and Andy, half-asleep, had juiced most of the oranges at breakfast. Now they’re just polishing off the remains. Eric doesn’t know why they even try.

In retaliation to Andy, Minwoo sticks out his tongue and reaches over to hug their mother.

“Thank you, Minwoo. You’re my favorite tonight.” Their mother kisses his cheek and Minwoo beams, eyes disappearing into crescents on his face. Eric wants to pummel him, just to do something with his fists that he’s hiding underneath the table.

“It’ll be nice…” Hyori laughs, shifting her gaze from one brother to the next. Eric doesn’t trust the look in her eyes. “We haven’t all been here in a while.”

“Speak for yourself,” Andy says, all of 25 years old and yet still the baby of the family. He crosses his arms over his chest, pouting just so. “I visited Mom and Dad every weekend. You guys always had some excuse.”

“Because you’re the baaaaby,” Minwoo teases, then ducks as Andy aims to slap him upside his head. “MOM! Help!”

“Thank you for being so filial, Ansunnie,” Hyori says and cuddles up to him, much to Andy’s dismay. He attempts to squirm from her hold but Hyori soon has him in a headlock that has him wailing. Their mother closes her eyes as though in meditation, and no one is sure whether she’s relieved at the noise or tuning them all out.

Amidst the chaos, the doorbell rings. Eric jumps up.

“I’ll get it.” He says, eager to escape from the suffocating space occupied by his family. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, wanting to be with them and yet not, because there’s already enough turmoil in his head that he needs to wade through and he doesn’t need this –

“Hi.” The stranger at the door says, voice loud enough to clearly be heard over the rain. He has a hoodie on over sweatpants and Eric can barely see his face, let alone recognize him. In his hands he holds a covered orange-colored Dutch oven. He says something else but his voice is drowned out as thunder crackles overhead. As though frustrated at being interrupted, the stranger then s the Dutch oven at Eric.

“Er…” Eric isn’t sure what to do. He looks at the Dutch oven and then at the stranger in front of him who he can’t, for the life of him, recognize. When the stranger advances so that the pot is now getting dangerously close, he backs up. “Whoa, okay…”

“HYESUNG!” Minwoo yells from somewhere behind him, and then Eric is pushed aside as his brother runs past, tackling the stranger in mid-run and nearly sending them both sprawling on the porch. Hyori is not far behind, and raises an eyebrow when she sees Eric’s baffled expression.

Hyesung? Hyesung Shin?

“OW, Minwoo, get off! You’re going to make me drop it—!”

“Drop what?” Minwoo raises his head enough to spot the Dutch oven, still miraculously covered, in Hyesung’s grip. “Oh. Eric, get it.”

Eric obeys without a word, his eyes not leaving the stranger’s face. Once his hands are free, Hyesung reaches up and pulls his hood down, and Eric is sure now. “It is you!”

“Yeah, who else would it be?” Hyesung grumbles, shoving Minwoo off. “Minwoo, Jesus Christ, did you actually me?”

“Nice to see you too.” Minwoo grins then ruffles Hyesung’s hair, which makes the other man growl. Hyori has pity on him and helps pull him up, leaving Minwoo still sitting cross-legged on the porch. “What’d you bring over anyway?”

“Chicken stew. My dad made me bring it over.” ‘Dad’ is Charlie Park, who married Hyesung’s mother when they were still in kindergarten, way before Junjin and Andy even entered the picture. In the same way the Muns can’t imagine a family unit without Minwoo, Eric has never questioned Charlie Park claiming two sons.

Before he continues, Hyesung hangs his head. “Sorry about your dad, guys. And sorry I couldn’t attend the funeral this morning.”

“Aww, you’re sweet,” Hyori says and kisses him on the cheek. “It’s all right.” Eric is startled when she feels her elbow jab his side. “Right, E?”

“Yeah, of course.” Eric is still finding it hard to reconcile this Hyesung from the one he knew. But then again, their lives have diverged so much that he can’t really blame either of them; his own life left 2500 miles away in LA is still in pieces. “Thanks…”

Hyesung looks up and Eric can now clearly see his face. He shares the features of the boy Eric once knew – wary eyes and careful smiles, as though he knows a secret no one else does – and yet none of it. The realization makes his heart ache although he doesn’t really know why.

“So…” Hyesung shifts his feet, looking awkward. “You guys all just flew in?”

“Drove,” Minwoo answered. “I’m only in DC. And Hyori came from God knows where.”

Hyori reaches over and pulls the hair on the back of Minwoo’s head. “I only live two hours away, you .”

“And yet you couldn’t visit Mom and Dad like Andy did.”

“And you did?”

Hyesung laughs then turns to Eric. “And you? Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

He says it as though he’s managed to stay in Rye all his life, when the reason he successfully managed to bury himself so deep in Eric’s subconscious was because he had gone away while they were growing up and Eric had never seen him again, apart from the occasional headline news and clickbait article.

“Just this morning from LA.” Eric responds, not sure Hyesung deserves to know more than that.

“And the Missus?”

Eric’s heart clenches and bile rises in his throat. “In LA. Couldn’t get time off.”

“I see.” Hyesung nods carefully and leaves it at that. He takes a step back as though Eric is a flame and he’s in danger of getting burnt. “Well, I’ve got to head back. Heat the stew in the oven before you eat it. Don’t burn it.”

Minwoo lifts the lid and sniffs. “Did you drown this in sesame oil??” He yelps when Hyori cuffs him on the back of his head.

“We’re here till Sunday, the lot of us. Drop by when you have time.” Hyori is genial and diplomatic when she wants to be, a talent that she discovered when they were young and constantly milked when needed.

Hyesung smiles, almost shy. “Your mom?”

“Oh, you know Mom. Nothing gets her down.” Hyori says. “She’d love to see you though.”

Hyesung nods, an almost-agreement. “I’ll see you guys around then.”

Eric doesn’t think he’ll leave but he does, quickly pulling his hood back up and turning around to jog back to their house across the street. He doesn’t realize he’s still staring until Hyori tucks her chin onto his shoulder and blows into his ear, nearly making him drop the Dutch oven onto his foot.

“Dreaming is for free,” she says in a sing-song voice then saunters back into the house before Eric can ask her what she means.


tbc

Author's Notes
I made them American again. Hahaha. Sorry?! The story works better in a suburban American setting. :3 Also, Hyori is Lee Hyori. I just wanted to give Eric a sister to balance all the testosterone.