“What are you doing outside? It’s almost time for bed.”

There’s a nine year old boy standing outside on the front porch of his house, dressed only in his pyjamas and plain slippers and curiously watching a younger boy fumble around with his tricycle and safety gear. It’s good to see him thinking about his safety, but the nine year old boy’s curiosity only increased when the younger boy began to fill his tricycle basket with a flashlight, a child Polaroid camera he had recently gotten for his birthday and a half-eaten messily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

All were signs indicating that the child was about to go somewhere, and he didn’t care at all about the late hour or cold temperature of the dark night.

“Up in the sky, that’s where they’ve taken her.” The seven year old boy replies, already jumping on to his tricycle with a determined glint in his eye.

“Where who have taken whom?”

“The aliens, they’re the ones who took mom away from us and they put her on the moon! So I’m going to fly up there and get her back, it’s the only way!” The younger boy strongly declares, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as he stares up at the white ball of light in the sky.

The older boy found his younger companion’s dedication admirable, and he would praise her right now if it weren’t for the bad choice of timing, because no one would attempt what he’s attempting, let alone at ten minutes to eleven.

The older boy shakes his head at the other boy out of pity, not even knowing where to start explaining to him that aliens didn’t exists, and that that fact made the boy’s task already impossible aside from the flying part. Everyone knows that aliens don’t exist, everyone knows that unless you’re a bird or an insect with wings then flying isn’t possible, and most of all, everyone knows that the dead can’t come back to life, no matter how badly a person may wish for it.

They’re both hurting over the fact that they won’t get to see their mother again after she passed away this morning. And it’s killing them both inside that they can’t wish the dreadful feeling from what they’re experiencing away, it’s too cruel to go through at their age. But one of them has to be strong and think rationally, even if they both want to chase down the culprit responsible for their mother’s unfair decease.

“You can’t get her back because she’s gone, and she’s not coming back.” The older boy, Minho, tells the two of them, though he’s wishing that it’s just a bad joke he’s telling. If it was a bad joke, it would make the large lump in his throat go down easier after holding in all of his tears.

The younger boy, Taemin, let his foot violently smack against one of the tricycle pedals as he squinted his eyes shut tight and shook his head in protest. “No, you’re wrong, there must be a way!” He argued back.

“There isn’t, and you need to accept that.”

“B-But mom and me were e-eating breakf-fast just this morning. W-we…We made p-p-pancakes and e-everything, she can’t be--”

“Mom left us this morning, remember?!” Minho cut in to yell, unable to bare being the only accepting one between the two of them. “Don’t you remember watching her fall asleep on the couch and then being scared when she wouldn’t wake up?” He added, envious of how the other was able to act like this morning had just been a dream.

Tired and exhausted…but more of all feeling incredibly hurt and depressed even at his youthful age, Taemin couldn’t help but feel all of his energy and determination slowly drain out of him, and that left him pitifully slouching over his tricycle, his goal of flying up to moon seeming even further than before.

“I-It isn’t f-fair! I-I didn’t…I n-nev-ver even g-got…a chance, t-to get to k-know her well!” Taemin complained, his sobbing voice leaving him to re-pronounce his baby-twanged words.

Minho could feel his heart sink more and more ashe listened to his adoptive brother lay out the facts for him, the facts that weighed out who had had a mother for a longer time. But adopted or not, the older boy knew his mother’s heart well enough to say that she had only needed three seconds to completely love her new son, no more and nor less than her first one.

That’s why there was never any resentment toward him, because Minho too had accepted him in just three seconds, and that meant he understood, just as he understood now.

“That doesn’t matter, mom loved us both very much.” Minho assured the sad boy, he himself close to crying but resisting to stay strong for both of their sakes. If he broke down too now then that would be it. “And even if she’s not here anymore…I know that she’s still looking out for us, b-because she’ll always love us, always!”

Taemin felt as though he’d never be able to understand all of today’s events, not even when he grew up in the future…and that made him hurt more, like nothing matter anymore. “I-I don’t care, y-you’ve know her for a really long time…b-but I only just got to know her but already s-she…she’s…” He couldn’t bare it anymore, and his voice left him when a chorus of loud wails and uncontrollable tears came out, staining his cheeks, making his nose run and turn red and challenging his throat.

All of this, for it to happen to two young boys…life really is cruel But as long as they stay together through it all, Minho is sure that they’ll be able to handle it.

So he walks over to his crying brother and holds him close, just to start them off and prove that he means it. “You and I are going to have to be big boys now and take care of ourselves, and dad. Mom wouldn’t want us to keep crying all the time.”

Hearing about his mother and imagining her face turning in to a look of sadness only made Taemin cry louder, but he nodded and understood what he was being told to do nevertheless.

Minho kept himself together well and didn’t move, not even when his pyjamas were becoming soaked with his brothers tears and mucus. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out like this, especially barefoot and without a jacket.” He points out once he feels the boy shiver in his arms and looks down at his partly-filthy feet. “Come inside, I’ll make us some hot chocolate, does that sound good?”

Taemin can guess that arguing would be pointless, and he is cold and tired.

So he agrees, and they walk inside together.

* * * *

Minho moves around the kitchen swiftly, knowing where everything is and how to make he and his brother hot chocolate. Once the kettle boils and its red light appears, he fills their cups up and stirs its contents with a small spoon, then goes over to the table and sets the hot cups down, one in front of him and the other in front of the younger boy.

Taemin doesn’t bother to lift his head up, but he does acknowledge that a hot drink has been made for him, and he knows of it’s chocolate goodness from the wandering aroma alone.

“Don’t you like your hot chocolate?” Minho asks sceptically, telling himself not to be offended by how his generous work was being ignored. It wasn’t everyday he made hot chocolate, but it wasn’t everyday his mother died…so it was a small occasional drink.

“Mom makes it better.” Taemin mumbled through his arms.

“It’s funny how you can know that without even trying it first, and without even looking at it.”

Along with a protesting moan, Taemin sends his brother an unimpressed look once he lifts his head to look at him. And then he then looks at the drink and his face stays neutral-ish looking, way unsatisfied. “Umma always puts little marshmallows in my hot chocolate, and then she adds cream and toffee and caramel sauce.”

“Do you want me to add that stuf