Hwayoung's POV

Waking up was the same every day. I open my eyes and sit up and stretch and yawn and fix my bed. It was somehow different today, however. I couldn't quite put my finger into what it is, just until I looked out my window. The warm sunlight felt good against my eyelids as I closed my eyes and relished the cool breeze that blew.

My mother's shrill of a voice echoed throughout the entire house again as she called everyone for breakfast. After washing up, I ran down the stairs and opened the door to the storage room, where the latest member of our family was staying. Before the door could be fully opened, he already beat me to the dining table.

Knowing how he ate, my parents shielded their own plates from Chanyeol's grip. He took a handful of rice carelessly and aimed it in his mouth. "Gidaryo," I ordered, taking the chopsticks and helping myself to a generous amount of rice. The boy had his mouth halfway open, and my parents gawked at the newfound control I had over him.

"Eat slowly," I said, to which Chanyeol obliged obediently. Struggle over his own desire to eat without pretentions was evident on his face, but even so, he ate as I told him to. "Ah, jalhanda," I exclaimed and patted his head. From the corner of my eyes, I saw my parents exchange stunned looks. "Uri Chanyeol~"

And breakfast was silent, just like how it was before Chanyeol turned up in our backyard that day. Since it was a good day, I decided to teach Chanyeol some more basic skills. After eating, he stood up and got ready to advance back to his room, but I stopped him. "Ya, you shouldn't get used to me and omma cleaning up after eating," I scolded.

I pulled him by his wrists and gestured to the usual mess he made at the table. He scratched his head, not really understanding. "You pile the dishes up," I instructed, leading by example as I piled the bowls we used for the side dishes. After nearly half an hour, the table was cleared up and Chanyeol arranged the utensils and plates accordingly on the sink.

Tired even early in the morning, "Good job," I said and patted his head. With my mother nowhere in sight, I turned to Chanyeol, who stared out the window and watched the children play outside. I called out for him and pointed upstairs. Without another word, he dashed up the stairs and towards the library.

Upon reaching the library, I watched as he chewed on the pencil, which was perhaps his most prized possession at the moment. Chanyeol held the pencil with his fist and etched lines on the wooden arm rest of his chair. "What are you doing-- ugh," I groaned, storming to his side. "Ani, that's not how you use a pencil."

Getting a piece of paper, "You draw lines first. If you don't know how to, just draw something like this," I directed, fixing the pencil upright in between his fingers. Holding his hand, I guided him as he continued writing. "Your hand is warm," I commented as Chanyeol's hand felt like he was burning in fever. I let go of his hand and observed as he continues drawing the lines.

The boy's face was etched in effort. "If you do well like this every time, everything will become familiar. You'll learn everything quickly," I encouraged, although not sure if he could understand. Next, I taught him to do circles. If a foreigner could easily learn the Korean alphabet, then this kid could, too. He could catch up in no time.

Everything was peaceful for a few moments, until my mother's voice resonated from downstairs. Rolling my eyes, I pretended not to hear anything. The thick wooden walls that surrounded us could be a good excuse for when she gets furious at me. Just when I considered that idea, Chanyeol tensed beside me and stared at the door even if I couldn't hear anything. A few seconds later, my mother began knocking.

"You have really sharp ears," I muttered under my breath, walking to the door and trying to look as calm as possible before opening it.

“Bring him out,” mother told me straightforwardly with her eyes narrowing into slits. Behind her, Mr. Jeong was standing with an awkward smile, as if he didn't want to be in the middle of a nearing argument between my mother and me.

“Who omma? Who will I bring out? There’s no ‘him’ in here.” I remained passive and responded.

She clucked her tongue in disapproval and raised her brow challenging me. “Hwayoung, since when did you become disobedient? Bring Chanyeol out now. Mr. Jeong is waiting.” My mother tiptoed and craned her neck to look for Chanyeol. "There was no available orphanage at the moment. But he said something about a reliable facility which could..."

"Excuse me," the police officer butted in. "Can I talk to him for a minute?" he asked, referring to Chanyeol, who was still learning his circles.

I nodded and moved out the way to let him in. Turning back to my mother, “Omma, no one’s going to the orphanage – or a facility, for that matter. I thought you wanted to keep Chanyeol in this family?” I questioned her.

She gave out a gentle smile in return. “But weren't you the one insisting not to have him here? Hwayoung, there might be other families out there who’s more willing to take Chanyeol in,” she informed. 

I gritted my teeth as her words dawned on me. My mother was right. I actually didn’t want Chanyeol here before, but things could change. Being consistent and firm with decisions is foolishness. “Ani, omma. We can keep Chanyeol. He’s already comfortable with us. Please, just listen to me this once and stop everything about going to the orphanage,” I stated boldly.

“But he’s a stranger, Hwayoung. Chanyeol is–” she argued but was cut off as a loud growl erupted from behind me. Turning, I saw Chanyeol on top of the table, his stance looking as if he was ready to pounce at the officer any moment. Mr. Jeong fell off his chair and was now lying on the floor. He clutched onto his chest which heaved up and down quickly in fear.

My mother and I rushed quickly to the commotion. I approached Chanyeol fearfully, seeing how his eyes turned frozen silver, glistening in danger and fury. He breathed roughly, with ragged growls coming from deep inside his chest. "Calm down," I said softly, his hair. "No one's going to hurt you."

I looked back at the police man, who was assisted by my mother to get back on his feet again. Still shaken from the incident, he backed away until he reached the door. "I'll be waiting downstairs," Mr. Jeong bid before leaving. On the other hand, my mother looked at me, her expression as if saying she had just proved a point.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not a part of the family, omma. Even though we don’t know where Chanyeol came from, I can feel that he’s a good person and I know you feel that way too. So please, don’t take him to the orphanage,” I persuaded.

Seeing how she couldn't convince me otherwise, “Then I hope you stand by your decision, Hwayoung. I’m fixing the adoption papers so that Chanyeol could now be a legal member of the family. And look after him. It’s a good thing you finally acknowledged him,” my mother said before turning to leave.

Returning, I sat on my place earlier which was just beside Chanyeol. I was about to wonder why he acted like he didn't just scare the guts out of the police officer, but I noticed how his hands were empty. Just when I was about to scold him about being stubborn, I followed his gaze to the guitar by the corner.

Chanyeol stood up and approached it. Slowly, he touched it. His eyes grew wide when his fingers strummed one of the strings, creating a sound. He then let out a goofy smile, amused with what just happened. "So you know how to smile, huh?" I advanced to where he was. The boy just gawked at his new discovery.

“This is a guitar. It is a musical instrument,” I started explaining as I stood up and grabbed it. “It’s something that you use to make songs or create beautiful music.” I sat and positioned the guitar on my lap. He stared at me, curiosity and wonder in his eyes as I let my fingers strum the strings. “I haven’t played this for a long time so I’m not sure if I’m as good as I used to be. But I made this song and I want you to listen to it. If isn’t nice, don’t laugh. Just listen.”

The Wolfboy OST

I’m waiting all night long

Until the sun rises outside the window

Because when morning comes

I can meet him

Thank you for waiting for me

Thank you for looking at my eyes

Thank you my dear prince

For appearing in front of me

I ended the song and was surprised to see how mesmerized Chanyeol was. "There's supposed to be a second verse to it..." I trailed off. Little by little, he started crawling towards me. And I waited, wondering what this boy was up to.

How the sunlight reflected his eyes was something that clearly amazes me. His eyes had some kind of gravitational force that spirals down to the boy's innocence and mystery, which were the only two things that I was sure about him. His warm hands then came in contact with my hair as he started to pat my head gently, the same way as I always did with him.

Resisting the urge to stay still on my spot, I cleared my throat and spoke. “Let’s go down, Chanyeol. You might be hungry again already," I said, although breakfast was but an hour ago. And I stood up, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment. I turned around with him trailing behind me as my mind repeated the scene a thousand times.