Busan 2018

Trepidation beads upon their foreheads as Jongup and Junhong stand in front of the wooden door of the small house. Both are nervous - for different reasons. And both are unaware of the other’s anxiety as they wait for the door to open.

“Who is it?” comes an old man’s voice, seeping through the wood making the shrill voice sound a bit deeper. A smile cracks upon their faces and Jongup knocks on the mahogany once again yelling “it’s me, Grandpa! Jongup!”

They can hear footsteps and laughter as the man makes his way towards the front door and Jongup shakes his head at the man’s ecstasy. And when the door opens, he leaps into the arms of the small man, grinning from ear to ear. Nuzzling his nose into the man’s neck, taking in the scent of home.

“Jongup!” the small man yells as he wraps both his arms around the boy, letting his crutches fall to the ground in happiness. Junhong is quick to pick them up and Jongup is pulled inside the house by his neck, the man still holding him in a side embrace. “Oh! It’s been so very long, my boy!”

Jongup pulls away from the embrace and starts walking inside with the man in tow as he grins, “it’s been three months, Grandpa.” Sparing a glance at Junhong, he ushers him in as they continue into the house.

“Yeah. Yeah” the man waves off his hands, using Jongup as support as he continues towards the living room. “You wouldn’t know a parent’s heart until you become one yourself” he chides playfully, falling limply into the couch near the fireplace. “I miss you so much every day and all I get from you are letters and phone calls.”

“Then why don’t you just buy a smartphone?” Jongup smirks, sitting down near the man’s feet, pulling them into his lap. He starts massaging the man’s feet as he continues, “we can video call if you have a smartphone and it’ll be better quality than the landline too. It’s the internet age, Grandpa.”

The man playfully rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch as he reaches around the arms of the couch to grab something. “Where’s my crutches?” he calls out confused, looking around himself.

Junhong, who had been numbly staring at the scene in front of him (painfully reminded of his own grandfather), shakes from his trance and moves towards the man with the crutches tucked under his arms. He puts them near the man’s arm on one side of the couch and moves back immediately as if he’s scared.

The old man stares at Junhong and smiles at Jongup as he points at him. “And who’s this young man, Jongup?” He looks at Jongup with mirth in his eyes and whispers rather conspicuously, “Boyfriend?”

Junhong’s cheeks turn red at the accusation and he looks at Jongup warily. And Jongup looks at him and smiles easily as he says, “not yet, Grandpa” making all the fluids in Junhong’s gut dance. And Junhong should know it’s a joke but his heart feels on fire at the gaze Jongup is sending his way. Like he means it.

“Well he sure is a fine young man,” Jongup’s grandfather muses staring between the pair, humour in his eyes.

At that, Jongup breaks eye contact with Junhong and snickers at the old man as he continues, “come on, Grandpa” he says, “don’t tell me you didn’t recognise him?” His grandfather looks at Junhong once again. His eyes scrunched in concentration and the humour in them replaced with scrutiny. Junhong continues to fidget under the man’s gaze and continues staring back into the man’s eyes.

“He does look familiar,” the man admits but continues scrutinizing Junhong.

Jongup rolls his eyes and grabs hold of his grandfather’s hands as he looks back at Junhong. “It’s Junhong, Grandpa” he says, giddiness leaking in his tone. “Remember? The boy who used to annoy you all the time at the bakery?”

And like a switch clicking off, realisation shines in the old man’s eyes and he opens his arms wide, edging out of the couch as he calls Junhong in for a hug. “My sweet old boy!” he exclaims as Junhong ducks into the man’s open arms, “Oh! My sweet, sweet child!”

And he smells like home. That’s all Junhong knows. Junhong had always known his hugs to be the warmest in the world (warmer than his own grandfather’s in fact).

The man pulls back from the hug after a while and simply stares at Junhong with soft eyes, patting his cheeks as he wonders out his, “you sure have grown, boy” he chuckles. “Look at you! You’re even taller than Jongup!” He leans in closer to Junhong and makes a show of whispering – not really whispering at all “though, everyone is taller than that boy.”

“Hey!” Jongup yells at the two giggling figures indignantly, making a fist at Junhong threateningly.

“Hey! Hey!” his grandfather yells out playfully, pulling Junhong in a side embrace, “no hitting the cute boy!”

Junhong can see the argument at the tip of Jongup’s tongue and is too busy giggling to notice a presence in the room when a voice filters through their little chaos.

“Daehyun, I swear,” comes a deep voice and Junhong turns to see a skinny, old man slowly walking into the living room, carrying a tote bag of groceries, “one of these days I am going to gauge out my eyeballs because of these teenagers face all the time on the streets and everywhere.”

Jongup moves into action and pulls away the tote bag from the man startling him for a second. Junhong watches as recognition burns in his eyes, and he pulls Jongup into his embrace, patting his back and calling him ‘Moontoes’. When Jongup pulls back, the man starts walking towards the couch when he notices Junhong.

It’s like he just knows, doesn’t even need an introduction. He opens his arms and whispers “oh, Bunhongie”, just like his grandfather always did. And Junhong leaps into the man’s arms, feeling cold in his embrace (just like he did in his own grandfather’s arms) and it’s all too much. Because the man smells like his Grandpa and suddenly Junhong misses him.

And he doesn’t even realise when he starts crying, weeping into his shoulders, as the man continues ruffling his hair, and calling him “Bunhongie”.

Suwon 1997

“He is so precious,” Youngjae mutters out loud, holding the boy in his arms and giggling every time the boy sneezes or yawns or makes any kind of movement. He sways with the boy in his arms, sighing happily when the baby boy nuzzles his head into the blanket he’s cocooned in. “Look at him, Wonnie. He’s so cute.”

Youngwon stares at his grandson in the arms of his brother and a tear makes its way down his cheeks as he pulls his brother into a tight embrace. Youngjae tries to keep some distance between them to avoid suffocating the child or anything, but Youngwon seems unabashed as he continues holding him. Somehow, Youngjae manages to pull the baby out from between them and holds the child in once arm awkwardly as he pats Youngwon’s shoulders, “Youngwon, it’s alright” he mumbles, not really sure what the issue even is. “Youngwon?”

The elder man pulls away and stares at the child in Youngjae’s arms, smiles at him then looks up at Youngjae with bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. Youngjae quickly places the sleeping child back into the cot and embraces his brother again, not understanding why he would be crying like that.

“It’s not fair” Youngwon chokes out, words coming out jerkier than they should. “It… It’s… It’s not fair, Youngjae.”

And Youngjae does have an inkling of what is causing this reaction from his brother, but he can’t be sure. He gives one last look at the child in the cot and starts moving Youngwon out of the room.

“Youngwon… I…” Youngjae finds himself at a loss for words and continues, walking Youngwon towards the elder’s bedroom.

“It’s not fair, Youngjae” he mumbles, “it… it’s…” shaking his head as he stutters the words out. “She’s just… just a girl – a child! This isn’t supposed to happen to her. This… This shouldn’t happen to her!”

“Youngwon it’s not fair. I know” Youngjae speaks authoritatively, grabbing his brother’s shoulders as he pushes him back his arm chair. “I know it’s not fair, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Wonnie. You can’t keep crying like this.”

“But she’s a kid, Youngjae!” Youngwon yells back, quickly losing his cool as he starts sobbing in his hands again. “She should be happy and giddy with her husband right now! This is not what I wanted for her! I want…” he stumbles in his words, driven by emotions as he falls into Youngjae’s chest, weeping like a little boy.

“Youngwon…” Youngjae mumbles painfully, holding his brother’s hands as he watches the fifty-four-year-old man weep like a child. “Youngwon please…”

“She is just a child, Youngjae” Youngwon cuts him off – his voice a whisper. “A nineteen-year-old who lost her husband in war and now a twenty-year-old mother with no support and no one for her child to call a father. Why would this happen to her? What did I do wrong? Why would they punish my daughter for my mistakes, Youngjae?”

“I know” Youngjae whispers as he continues staring at his broken brother. Kneeling in front of his arm chair, his arms over his brother’s lap. “It’s not fair and I am just as angry and sad as you are right now. Jungah doesn’t deserve this pain and I know it’s brutal, what has happened to her.” He runs his fingers calmingly along his brother’s knuckles as he continues, “but sometimes bad things happen to good people. And it’s no one’s fault, Youngwon. You can’t blame yourself for Minhyuk’s death or for Misoo going insane after Junhong’s death. You should not blame yourself for happened to Jungah either.”

Youngwon shakes his head as Youngjae continues to speak, looking at him with wide eyes. “It is my fault, Youngjae” he whispers and when Youngjae shakes his head, ready to deny his words, he cuts him off before he can even say anything. “It’s my punishment, Youngjae. Don’t you see? It’s karma.”

“No, Youngwon,” Youngjae painfully exclaims, “no it’s not. It’s just fate and nothing else. It is not punishment, Youngwon.”

“But it is, Jae!” Youngwon nods his head eagerly, as if hit by an epiphany. “It’s all my fault! It’s all because of me that my daughter, her husband, her son, my wife!” he yells as he falls back into the armchair, speaking to himself now as he continues saying “it’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

And it pains Youngjae, more than anything, to look at Youngwon like this. Broken beyond repair and so helpless. So, he gets to his feet and pulls off the covers from his brother bed, bringing them to Youngwon. He places the covers over Youngwon, who’s now staring into the fire, muttering “it’s all my fault” over and over again. Sparing a last glance at the sad picture of his brother, he moves away. Exiting the room with a sigh and tears streaming down his face.

Busan 2018

“Jongup?” Daehyun calls the boy out when he sees him lingering in the threshold of his bedroom. When the boy merely looks at him with a smile, the old man smiles and beckons him over with a lazy wave of his hand. “Come on in, boy! You know what they say about people standing under thresholds.”

Jongup steps in and takes in the man’s bedroom, that is divided into two halves. It is a rather large size for a room but Jongup reckons that it’s just about right to house two people. He sits on the king size bed and it’s so obvious that two people live in the bedroom with the way the night tables are arranged.

Daehyun’s side, at least what Jongup thinks is Daehyun’s side, is laden with several novels, war documentary DVDs that Jongup had bought for him last year. There’s an age old Nokia and a tiny phone book in the corner and with the page that is open, Jongup can tell the last person Daehyun had called was Himchan. Candies of different colours and sizes sit caged inside a glass bottle near the end of the already crowded table. A small, handheld radio and a few pills. There’s also a picture of Jongup’s grandmother next to Youngjae in a frame.

Youngjae’s side, comparatively, is more simple. A bible and a rosary sitting in the center and his glasses propped on top. A few pill bottles and a night lamp is all Youngjae claims as his own.

The boy moves his eyes away from the bedside tables to scrutinise other details of the bedroom. A rocking chair, Daehyun's, sits near the fireplace with a prayer corner for Youngjae in the opposite wall. There’s a telescope next to the chair that Jongup knows is Daehyun’s property and a couch with a throw and pillows across from it that Youngjae had bought for himself five years ago.

And it’s all too much because his Grandpa, who’s not even his actual grandfather, is so strong. Because he realises the amount of sacrifice his grandfather is capable of and it’s a staggering discovery. Because he realises that Park Daehyun was a man capable of so much more yet here he is living alone with his best friend. No wife or children to call his own and no family to fall back to. And Jongup realises, after so many years, that Daehyun and Youngjae aren’t the married couple like he’d thought they were.

And he realises that he’s not all that disappointed by the discovery as he had thought he’d be.

“Jongup” Daehyun’s voice breaks through his inner monologue and he turns to the old man with a jerk. His grandfather smirks at him and flicks his forehead as he speaks, “if I had known you’d be zoning out on me I would’ve suggested you stay in the kitchen with Youngjae, boy.”

Jongup tries to speak but words get lodged into his throat and he can’t. The weight of the diary pressed against his ribs is so light that it’s wearing him down. And Daehyun is no fool to that. He’s known Jongup since he was born. Known his father much longer. So reall