Chapter Text
Time has been moving so slowly lately.
It wasn’t just because the weather had changed. Sieun wished it were that simple.
The chill of the winter months had been disrupted by the Earth's natural cycle. It left Korea stuck with an almost oppressive heat and a sticky, gross, humid feeling that clung to clothes and skin alike.
Rain came frequently, and the sun remained in the sky, beating down on the residents of Busan longer than it had in the previous months.
The city was still bustling. The crowds were still pushing. And Sieun was still moving through life like a ghost.
Time wasn’t slowing because today was the last day of school—that part somehow came faster than he’d expected.
He remembered sitting in class, looking over and spotting Suho fast asleep on the first day. He was drooling on that old pink arm pillow he kept from his first year.
That was the first semester of senior year.
And now, it was the last day of his senior year in high school.
It came in a flash. Like he blinked, and now he had all the responsibility of the world sitting on his shoulders.
However, Sieun wasn’t scared of that part. Maybe he should be, but he wasn’t.
He was swept up in something else.
Adulthood didn’t scare him. His future did.
His fellow seniors lingered in the classroom long after class ended. The Byuksan boys were throwing their arms around each other, loudly trading old stories with (now old) teachers, and trying not to cry to one another.
Sieun found it hard to explain how time moved for him when everyone around him was already moving on. What if he wanted time to stop?
Why was everyone so eager?
Sieun was sitting in his usual seat. Third row, fourth from the front of the class, one row from the door. Close enough to see the board, far enough from the teacher to avoid being noticed.
He wasn’t being hugged by peers or wearing a sentimental face.
Yeon Sieun was staring blankly at the chalkboard at the head of the classroom. Summer’s Here was written with sharp edges, a testament to his English teacher's excitement visible on the board.
He pressed his thumb to the eraser of his lead pencil. The repetitive click click click does little to satisfy the hundreds of thoughts running through his head.
Nothing was showing on his face, however.
He was thinking about his future. It should’ve made him feel excitement, happiness, or even anticipation.
Instead, he felt fear. It had been simmering for so long that the feeling had eventually mellowed out into a cold nothingness.
Sieun got into Yonsei University.
One of Korea’s three SKY universities. Prestigious and elite for students who were the best of the best. Exceptional students, serious about their futures, and likely equally as impressive as the school itself.
The letter brought satisfaction from his parents.
For once, his mother and father got together and brought him to dinner at a fancy restaurant. However, it wasn’t just them but people his parents knew who had “connections”.
“We’ve always known you could do it, Sieun.” His mother told him.
Then, they started to talk about his future. Sieun would leave Busan and move to Seoul. He would live there and attend his classes regularly, studying to be at the top of his class. He’d remain there until graduating with a degree in medicine. Pass the KMLE and complete a one-year internship plus four years of surgical residency.
Ten years were mapped out for Sieun to become a diligent surgeon. He would work, work, and work for the rest of his life.
That was all he’d been working towards—and all he was permitted to do.
Suddenly, there’s a loud grunt as someone enters the classroom.
“Sieun-ah!”
He doesn’t have to look to know who was calling his name. Only Ahn Suho says his name in that way. A little obnoxious, a lot of trying to get his attention.
It’s successful in pulling Sieun from his own mind.
He feels Suho standing beside the desk before he can fully blink away the murk of his earlier thoughts.
Personal space for Suho was a suggestion that he rarely took. It was normal for them at this point in their friendship, which had endured since their freshman year.
Sieun turns his head and lifts his gaze; his dark eyes (accidentally) move over Suho’s body. He was wearing black Byuksan uniform trousers, the fabric hanging off his frame in a naturally cool way. He had his hands in his pockets, and over his uniform was the usual red and black windbreaker.
Finally, Sieun’s eyes meet Suho’s. Neither of them looked away.
Since Sieun’s first year at Byuksan and the first time he’d laid eyes on Suho—it’s almost unusual how little he’s changed.
Suho kept his hair short and cut it regularly, claiming he hated it when it got in his eyes, just in case he “had to kick some ass”. Though fighting was something that happened less and less as they got older.
The night after Suho’s brakes were cut changed them both. A lot of the time, the fights didn’t seem worth it.
Eventually, to keep his hair at a manageable length, he made Sieun learn to cut hair. Suho wouldn’t admit that he was getting too lazy to do it. He just said, “I know you’ll do a better job.”
Idiot Suho just didn’t want to cut his own hair anymore. Sieun saw right through him.
The first time, he was tempted to “accidentally” cut too much of the hair on the back of Suho’s head and leave him with a noticeably… smaller amount of hair.
However, he decided against it.
That same night, it was late, and Suho had picked up an extra shift at his factory job. He ended up falling asleep in the chair mid-haircut,t and his big head (probably filled with dreams of food and more sleep) ended up on Sieun’s forearm.
His dominant hand was free, luckily, but the other arm quickly went numb. For a few minutes, Sieun had just stood there. Then, he continued to cut Suho’s hair in the way he wanted.
That became a regular thing between them. The haircuts but that was just a small fraction of their routines together.
Suho came over to his house all the time; his dad was never there to object either way.
He lived there on the nights when his delivery job led him to Sieun’s home. Somehow every night.
Some nights, it’d be the video games, or Sieun would cook dinner for them, and Suho would help, and they’d even watch movies together. Other nights they didn’t do much at all.
They would help each other. Suho would practice a new attack move he learned from Sieun.
A few times, Suho would bring beer over, and they’d drink themselves silly. It was on those nights that Suho would leave his usual sleeping place (the couch) and creep into Sieun’s bedroom while the world slept.
Suho, wrapped in the living room blankets and stumbling over his own two feet, would shuffle into Sieun’s meticulously arranged bedroom and stand before the bed. “Sieun-ah.” He’d say, just to wake him, but the other boy would already be awake.
Sieun would open his eyes and immediately narrow them at Suho, who looked far too comfortable.
Reluctantly, he’d scoot back on the mattress and lift the blankets for Suho. “Don’t you dare drool on my pillow.” He’d grumble, voice still thick with sleep.
His bed was a single, not nearly enough space for the two of them. Especially because Suho’s shoulders had become broader and his legs didn’t fit on the bed. Yet, he always wanted to sleep here.
“Yeah, yeah…” Suho said, half asleep and languidly abandoning the living room blanket.
He’d climb underneath Sieun’s blankets, get comfortable in his warmth, and nuzzle into his pillow. “Goodnight, Sieun-ah…” He whispered, barely awake, eyes slowly blinking shut with the last thing he saw being his best friend.
Suho never slept facing away from Sieun. And even in sleep, he always made it a point to be close enough that there was at least one point of contact between them.
Whether it be something small like their pinkies or, on this particular night, their knees pressed together.
Sieun’s face was warm from the alcohol, and he noted how cold Suho’s skin was against his. He’d have to get better blankets.
Suho didn’t seem to mind, his eyes shut and breathing already evened out. He was drooling like an idiot, and for some reason, Sieun felt an obligation to capture the moment.
He turned on his back carefully and grabbed his digital camera from the nightstand. It was admittedly one of the few things he could truly thank his parents for. He’d gotten it just two years back for his birthday after an entire year with straight A’s.
Sieun liked to capture things. His sleek, black and blue Kodak held photos of things that were insignificant to everyone but his specific character. It was his. Every shot he took on that camera belonged to him.
He couldn’t say what possessed him to want to capture this particular moment, but he angled his camera deliberately. Sieun wouldn’t adjust the settings for this photo; he wanted it in all its elements.
Suho's round eyes closed, his short lashes brushing against his high cheekbones in sleep. His cheek mashed against the porcelain white pillow, bringing his lips into a similar position. His lips were pink, pink like a lip balm flavor that Sieun didn’t know the name of. They weren’t thin, but weren’t very plump either. A perfect blend of fullness accompanied an already dangerous appearance that Ahn Suho possessed.
Suho grunted, lips twitching slightly.
It was then that Sieun took the photo.
Luckily, Suho didn’t wake from the small camera shutter and flash, and he kept snoring softly.
Sieun looked at the photo a bit longer, eyes lingering unconsciously on Suho’s lips. He tended to look into Suho’s eyes, which made his tongue tied and rendered him unable to think clearly.
Suho’s eyes. Dark, expressive, and always covered in warmth when he looked at Sieun. And he looked at Sieun a lot. He never really stopped.
“Sieun-ah…” And while Sieun was sitting there remembering and thinking about pointless things, Suho was waiting for… something.
He had bent at the waist in front of Sieun, hands still in his pockets, bringing their faces stupidly close.
Like a puppy inspecting a new toy, he tilted his head to the side, staring into Sieun’s soul. “Huh, did you space out again. I asked if you were ready to leave. The day is over.”
Without a word, Sieun leaned away from Suho, silently telling him to back up. Not because the tips of his ears were turning red, nope. It was simply because Suho’s breath smelled like the cream cheese garlic bread they had for lunch earlier.
“I’m not spacing out,” he says quietly, moving to pack up. When did class even end?
Suho rolls his eyes, obviously not buying it. He leans his butt against the desk beside Sieun. “Sure you weren’t… and I’m not the better COD player between us.”
“You aren’t.”
“Now, you’re just telling jokes. It’s okay, I think you’re hilarious without all the lies, Sieun-ah.”
Sieun stands up, and even at his full height, compared to Suho, his head doesn’t even go pasSuho'sis chin. He shrugs his backpack over his shoulders with scorn written on his face.
Why had Suho gotten taller while Sieun more or less stayed the same?
He didn’t tilt his head to look up at Suho—wouldn’t even give the idiot that much.
Seriously, what was Halmeoni feeding him? “Do you enjoy losing to me because you’re asking for it?” They both know Sieun’s team wins by a large margin whenever the two are playing for separate colors.
Suho shifts his head to meet Sieun’s eyes. He does that thing, intentionally tilting his chin downwards just to piss Sieun off. And it works, like always.
His eyes are filled with amusement while Sieun is glaring at him.
“I like annoying you because you get that look in your eyes.” The eyes that Suho had more than once referred to as “pretty”. As if Sieun were some lovesick girl. He didn’t talk to Suho all day after that.
However, the mention of “that look” makes him blink a few times. He tries to control his face, frowning. “What look?” He asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
The corner of Suho’s lips lifts, and he shrugs. “Hm… I’ll keep it to myself.” He pushes himself off the desk, revealing his full height—don’t even ask him what it is because he’ll brag about it endlessly—and stands up straight in front of Sieun.
The latter turns his head to the side so he can ignore how his friend is essentially towering over him.
Sieun doesn’t wait for Suho, already walking away. What look? Is it bad or something?
Per usual, Suho catches up and drapes his heavy arm over Sieun’s shoulder. “Walking so fast-it’s the last day of school, you know? Let’s take our time, it’ll be a while until we see one another.” Suho tells him, gently leaning his cheek against Sieun’s temple.
Sieun keeps his pace, brow furrowing slightly. That was an unusual thing to say.
“I doubt that. You’re always around.” He responds, thinking about the past week Suho has spent at his house. A few times, he’d brought back food from Halmeoni. Meaning Suho was home, but decided to come see Sieun anyway.
He was getting warm again. If Suho notices the red on his ears, he doesn’t say a word.
They’re both quiet as they leave the school, crossing the threshold underneath the Byuksan archway.
There was a banner that read ‘HAVE A NICE SUMMER’, hanging high above for the last day of school.
Sieun and Suho would never have a reason to return here again.
Suho didn’t have a university lined up for him like Sieun did, claiming he was done with school. He wanted to move higher up in Halmoeni’s restaurant. His grandmother was getting older, couldn’t always get around, and couldn't take care of the place, so he was going to drop his other jobs and put all his time into her store.
They were growing up. Changing and moving on to different responsibilities. Moving away from one another…
But at least they had the summer together.
“You know I’m leaving in two days, right?” It was a miracle Sieun didn’t stumble over the air itself, and that the feeling of his heart dropping wasn’t somehow audible.
Leaving, since when?
Suho was… leaving? How and why? For the entire summer, when will they see one another again? And where was he even going? He didn’t have to leave; Halmeoni’s store was a few blocks away from the school.
Sieun’s usual face of indifference melts away into something completely foreign.
He turns his head, and Suho can no longer lean his cheek on him. So, he looks down at Sieun, the sight making his hand tighten on Sieun's shoulder.
In a soft voice that betrayed his usual demeanor. “Why?” Sieun asks, looking at him through wide eyes that always appeared on the verge of tears. This time, it seemed they might actually fall.
Suho stops walking, causing Sieun to do the same. His eyes noticeably soften when looking down at him, and they face each other, the tips of their sneakers could touch with a few more inches.
However, they’re both still. Waiting for the other to break the silence. Suho does it first.
“Sieun-ah… It's a family trip…” He starts, sounding unsure of it himself. “Halmeoni wants me to go back and visit my mom, dad, and brothers for the summer. They live in Aewol-eup,” All the way on Jeju Island? Suho exhales deeply, glancing towards the street, away from the sidewalk they occupied.
As if the lack of contact was making it difficult to express himself, Suho’s hands left the covers of his pockets. He moves slowly to grab Sieun’s elbows, giving him every chance to pull away.
He doesn’t. Still reeling. Sieun felt heavier with the knowledge he’d just learned. The feeling was weird. Oppressive like the Busan heat. It made his knees want to buckle under its weight.
“For the whole summer?” Sieun finds his voice. Although it still sounds far too small.
Suho holds his gaze. “Yeah. Whole summer.”
There was one thing Sieun was looking forward to this summer before he left for Yonsei.
A summer with Suho.
His best friend. The person who understood him most. The one who probably knew more than anyone that Sieun was probably going to go crazy in Seoul without him.
And now he was leaving?
Sieun never wanted for anything, just this. Only this for one summer. Now, he was being taken away.
Suho tilts his head slightly to look at Sieun, squeezing his upper arms. “I don’t… want to go. I want to…” but Suho stops himself, continuing after a deep exhale. “I don’t want to see them…” He grits out, looking away for a moment, like the memories of his childhood were coming back in that brief moment.
Sieun understands that. He didn’t know the details, and he wouldn’t pretend to. But he could relate to that detachment from his parents. “But I have to. If Halmeoni is going, I have to. I won’t let her travel that far alone for that long...” He grumbles, looking at Sieun again, watching him closely.
There is nothing Sieun could say in that moment that didn’t sound desperate or disappointed. The words “stay with me” or “but take me with you” were running around his head and lodged themselves in his throat.
He wouldn’t let them out.
He simply nods and closes his eyes a few seconds longer than necessary. When he opens them again, Suho is looking at him carefully.
When he’s sure nothing strange will come up, Sieun speaks. “I hope you have fun on your trip, Suho-ah,” he offers something resembling a tight-lipped smile or the closest Sieun can manage to one. And he pulls his arms away from the strong grip, and instead of continuing on their path back to his house, Sieun goes the way they came.
Suho is left speechless and confused on the sidewalk, turning to watch Sieun’s figure walk away.
He can hear the growing crowd of students leaving school, footsteps meeting concrete, and all grade levels celebrating the freedom.
People begin to form a sea around him, and when he momentarily can’t find his best friend, he moves. Suho refuses to lose sight of Sieun, and he moves through the throng of bodies until he finds one he recognizes.
Sieun is waiting at the crosswalk, first in line, staring straight ahead as the cars zoom past him.
When Suho arrives beside him, their shoulders knock together. Sieun barely lifts his head to glance in his direction.
“Where you goin’?” Suho grumbles, his head snapping toward the overexcited sophomore who accidentally shoves him. The kid squeaks out an apology and shuffles off to his friends.
Sieun presses the button again. “Let’s go see Halmeoni. I’m hungry.”
•••
“My boys! Sieun-ah, I’m so proud of you!” Halmeoni didn’t waste time when her favorite boys entered her restaurant, “부드럽게 말하는”.
Soft Spoken was a restaurant that valued the comfort of the people eating there.
There were no bright, overhead fluorescent lights or loud noises from the kitchen. The servers were kind and accommodating, plus there was a low hum of jazz always heard in the background. The booths were more like couches, and the tables were a mahogany color that matched the curtains.
It was a place that Sieun could describe in many words, but the one that always came to mind was warm. Even the food she sold was nostalgic. It was an assortment of traditional Korean cuisine that customers (and Sieun) regularly came back for.
Sieun didn’t know what to do with his hands when the elderly woman wrapped her arms around him. It was all without warning. He froze like a statue while she hugged him tightly, suddenly aware that they were still blocking the doorway.
He met Suho’s eyes for a moment, and the other boy snickered quietly.
Sieun kept his hands at his side, the tips of his ears beginning to turn red. The hug was… nice. And he slowly reaches up to pat her back awkwardly.
She was like Suho in that way—affectionate. And Sieun never really knew what to do with that fact.
He clears his throat, smelling the scent of fried food on Halmeoni’s long, purple, flowing dress.
The moment Halmeoni pulls away, she gently pats Sieun’s head, fixing him with a soft look. He feels a strange sensation in his chest, something he hadn’t felt since he was young. Sieun stares at Halmeoni for a moment, silent.
Until Suho decides he’s been quiet for too long. “Hey, what about me? You know I’m actually your grandson?”
Halmeoni’s warm smile completely evaporates when she turns to look at her grandson.
Her face shifts into something more stern. “Please, I’ve told you how proud I was this entire week, especially before you went off to school earlier.” She grumbles, turning to face her grandson. “I went into your room earlier.” Suho swallows hard. “Remember what I told you a week ago? I wanted you packed and ready to go yesterday, Suho! Yet your room is still messy, and there isn’t a single bag!”
With a slight pout, Suho looks away from his grandmother's wrath, looking like a disobedient child despite having turned eighteen a few months ago. “I hate packing… It’s damn annoying,” He complained, but she pointed a finger in his face.
“I don’t care. If you do it at the last minute, you’ll forget important things. Like always. Now go next door and pack.”
“Halmeoni-“
“Sieun and I will see you later, Suho-ah,” the older woman shuts the rest of his protests down with a single sentence.
Suho glanced at Sieun, who gave him a look saying “you heard her” and groaned. Without a word, he leaves the store, heading next door.
Sieun watches him go, his eyes lingering on the line of Suho’s back.
gruuwwmmmm. Sieun’s hunger decides to make itself known in the loudest way possible. He snaps back to reality. Real nice.
Halmeoni heard it, and when she heard someone was hungry in her vicinity, she couldn’t just ignore it. The elderly woman laughs at his embarrassment.
She merely waved her hand. “It’s okay, Sieun-ah. I’ll make you something; find a seat.” Halmeoni gestures towards the few open spots in the restaurant.
Without another word, she disappears into the kitchen, the door closing behind her. Sieun does as told, finding himself a window seat in a booth near the kitchen.
Now alone, his mind drifts.
For the entire summer (six weeks), both Suho and Halmeoni would be gone.
Out in Jeju Island, a place known for its beautiful beaches, natural waterfalls, and volcanoes. A place full of lush culture and busy cities. They would have fun there.
And by the time they come back, he’d be away at Yonsei for months and probably wouldn’t return for a while.
Of course, they could text and call and miss one another… but would that be enough?
He and Suho spent so much time together these last few years doing everything and nothing. Even his silence involves the other boy.
What was he going to do now?
Should he stop being greedy? He had all year with Suho, so why does he need the summer as well? Sieun doesn’t know why he feels this way, but he knows what he wants.
It’s just difficult to say aloud.
Thoughts he was expecting by the end of August were hitting Sieun all at once now.
No Busan. He’d be in Seoul, studying constantly, quietly, with no Suho, Halmeoni, or Soft Spoken.
It was far too soon to be thinking about the end. Yet it was all he could do. It was an emotional whiplash; he didn’t have the slightest idea what to do about any of it.
And how long had Suho known? It had to have been at least a week since he was informed, and they spent the whole of it together. Why hadn’t he told him earlier? Why hide it?
Too many questions, and Sieun’s stomach was too empty to answer all of them.
The boy leans fully into the booth, throwing his head back against the soft cushion. He allows himself to get comfortable, staring out at the restaurant door absently.
Somewhere in the crevices of his mind, he was hoping Suho would return to the restaurant, sit down, and tell him everything.
But that was ridiculous.
He needed to think of something else. Sieun closes his eyes then, trying to regulate his body and mind. His Dad would be coming back in a few days, claiming he wanted to help Sieun prepare for university.
He needed to answer a few emails about roommates and advisors. There was more paperwork to do for Yonsei. And a phone call he had to make to the school.
Fuck, these thoughts were even worse.
School. School. School. And more school. That’s where his brain went. It didn’t help—Sieun wanted to think of something else for once.
Suddenly, there was a gentle clink of a tray hitting a wooden table that made Sieun open his eyes. Halmeoni’s fragile hands were shaking slightly as she placed a steaming bowl of kimchi-jjigae in front of him. He could see the pork, tofu, and kimchi swirling inside the spicy red broth, his stomach growling even louder.
She places a pair of chopsticks on the tray, followed by a glass of water, and slides into the seat across from him. “Hopefully you enjoy it,” Halmeoni hums in delight, her hands in her lap.
Sieun nods once, glancing at her. What should he say?
He wants to dig in now, but he doesn’t want to be rude to Halmeoni. “Thank you for the food…” The woman smiles, acknowledging his effort. He should probably smile, but he doesn’t and breaks the chopsticks apart, beginning to chow into the stew.
Halmeoni watches his eyes widen at the first bite, chuckling softly. Yes, Sieun loved her cooking—she didn’t even have to ask.
“Remember not to eat too fast, Sieun-ah.” She reminds him, a corner of her lip pulled up in a smirk.
He pauses, mid-chew on a piece of pork, quickly nods, and continues. She chuckles again, knowing he is far too hungry to even listen.
Halmeoni’s eyes flicker to a few students who enter the restaurant, being helped by a young server. She becomes distracted, her face falling once she remembers Suho next door.
She rubs at her temples, knowing. “he didn’t tell you… Did he?”
She didn’t have to elaborate either. Sieun knew what she meant.
He swallows, licking his soft lips, tasting the slight tang of the broth once more, and sets his eating tools on the tray, eyes on his unoffending bowl. “He told me a few minutes before we arrived…”
Halmeoni shakes her head, but he could see it in her face—she wasn’t angry with Suho. She understood him. Sieun was the one left in the dark.
“That boy… ever since he was a child, he always preferred to stay with me…” Sieun’s brow raises. “His mother and father didn't take the best care of Suho-ah.” She lets that fact hang there for a while, her wrinkled hands folding a stray napkin a few times.
She exhales deeply, her deep brown eyes look at him across the table, and he doesn’t glance away. “They were young,” she starts again, her brown eyes holding a multitude of emotions that he didn't fully understand. “My daughter, Suho’s mother, had issues with alcohol… but she’s better now. Has been for a while now… and they want to see him.” Sieun’s eyes widened at the influx of information he was getting about Suho’s life.
He knew bits and pieces about his best friend's life. Suho didn’t like his parents; he hated talking about them, and he didn’t associate himself with addicts. He wasn’t the type to talk about his past; he always preferred the present.
Sieun could appreciate that about him, never pried, and he continued to stick by Suho’s side. He never asked about what happened to his friends' parents. To Sieun, the only family Suho had was Halmeoni. At times, he forgot that his best friend didn’t have anyone else but her.
But Suho was so independent that it made Sieun wonder at what age he learned to be like that.
Similar to Sieun’s parents, Suho’s weren’t there for the hard parts. Absent from the fights, the achievements, and the mundane alike. Detachment wasn’t even the right word, really.
Their parents were like strings attached to them by blood and nothing else.
At least Sieun’s parents poured assets into him, but did Suho even have that?
All this information. It feels… wrong somehow, hearing it from Halmeoni. She’s great, yes, but he feels like it should’ve been Suho who told him this. Or something taboo that Sieun shouldn’t have heard. However, now that he does know, Sieun just won’t forget and avoid it.
The elderly woman watches him, unfolding the napkin. She hums a tune to herself, a fond smile appearing on her face. “Seems he didn’t tell you because I wanted him to ask if you would join us.” Her eyes linger on the blank napkin.
Sieun felt his body freeze in the soft cushions of the booth, his back going rigid and eyes widening. What kind of sudden invitation was that?
Go with Halmeoni and Suho all the way to Jeju Island? Meet Suho’s distant family and then do what? Sit on the beach and get tiny grains of sand in his feet and hair. Don't worry about school. Spend the summer with Suho.
Despite the logistics and the reasons why this was probably a bad idea (Yonsei, packing, and his dad), Sieun couldn’t help but feel relieved. Halmeoni wanted him to come; she was giving him a choice, and he didn’t have to spend his summer alone.
However, that brings him to another point: why hadn’t Suho asked him himself?
He fidgets in his seat, his body recovering from the initial shock. Sieun grabs his chopsticks with a calm he didn’t feel, seizing a piece of tofu between the wooden tools. He doesn’t bring it to his mouth yet, still thinking.
Halmeoni is waiting patiently for his answer.
“I want to talk to Suho first…” is what he says, biting into the tofu that absorbed the taste of the broth. It was delicious. His answers seemed to satisfy her.
Halmeoni nods, moving slowly to slide out of the booth, using the wooden table for support. “I want you two to be together for the summer, my dear. I’d never want to take that away. And I know Suho-ah wants that as well… enjoy your meal and then go talk to him.” She offers the boy one last smile, patting his shoulder.
Sieun watches her leave, his hands clasping around the chopsticks once more.
Halmeoni’s absence is felt. He remembers sitting in this same booth with Suho, letting the boy steal a piece of pork from his bowl.
The thought of separating… leaves Sieun with a bitter taste in his mouth. And it would only get worse when the time actually came.