Park Gahee’s eyes flicker towards the backseat through the rearview mirror.

And instead of finding her son asleep like she’d thought he would be, her gaze falls upon the reflection of little Jimin staring off into space, a small smile playing on his lips, the corners moving up and down much as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

“What’s so funny, sweetheart?” Gahee asks warmly, flipping on her blinker as she waits to turn into the apartment complex.

He doesn’t answer, only the blinking sound of the signal punctuating the silence like a metronome.

“Baby?” Gahee tries again, glancing over her shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Jimin finally replies, blinking his eyes as his gaze slowly drifts over to meet his mother’s. “I’m just really happy to be home.”

“Oh baby, well I’m happy to have you back,” Gahee’s eyes tighten just a little around the corners, her heart twinging from the phantom of the guilt she still haunts her, even years later, at having to force her young child to travel between his two parents, to a father who never truly cared.

Jimin shrugs, swinging his small feet as his eyes stray back towards the roof of the car, an amused grin slowly spreading across his cheeks.

Gahee watches her son for a brief moment, sadness lingering in her heavy heart as memories of piling white envelopes of bills and more unpaid bills cascading onto the kitchen floors, memories of lonely nights and repetitive arguments over a husband that was never there bleed into her thoughts.

Memories of trying to explain to her only son why his daddy doesn’t live with them anymore, why his daddy has a new lady living with him in a home that clearly isn’t theirs.

A jarring honk jolts her back to the present, foot slamming down onto the gas pedal in surprise. The car jerks forward, the underside scraping as it moves too quickly into the dip before finally pulling into the apartment complex.

Gahee cringes at the noise, gaze falling back towards her son to make sure he’s okay. She sees that Jimin is perfectly fine, still swinging his feet happily and smiling. And with a light sigh of relief, she continues on towards the lower level parking area in search of her reserved spot.

But what Gahee doesn’t see is the shadow of two small fingers stretched out across the roof of the car in the shape of a v, wiggling bunny ears just above her head, to the muffled sound of Jimin’s amused giggle.

“We’re home,” Gahee turns around, reaching over to ruffle Jimin’s hair.

Jimin grins up at his mom, clutching tightly onto his backpack full of his weekend belongings, still fighting the smile quirking the tips of his lips. He waits patiently for Gahee to open the door and help him unbuckle the seatbelt, climbing out of the car quietly and grasping onto her hand as she takes his backpack into her other.

Together, they finally make their trek up towards ground floor where their apartment building stretches high up into the sky. Unbeknownst to Gahee, Jimin subtly waves down at his shadow cast across the sidewalk.

And his shadow waves back a fraction of a second after, skipping ahead just a bit off sync to Jimin’s own footfalls.

Jimin’s smile broadens. He’s finally home, away from his loud stepsiblings and prying stepmother, away from scrutiny, away from judgment, away in private where he can finally talk to his best friend.

--

“Hyung.”

“What?”

“You still there?”

“Well, I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“What’s up?”

“You’ll always be with me, right?”

“Sure, kid. Of course.”