“I’m five-year-old Shin Jaea.”
The child who introduced himself as five-year-old Shin Jaea had, for some unknown reason, only four fingers extended. The child’s hands were small and adorable enough to make my whole body feel ticklish. So if you’re five years old, why the hell did you only hold up four fingers? I didn’t have time to ask. Kkotmoa gently told the child that five-year-olds should extend all their fingers.
“Hello.”
“…Hyung-ah, Jaea owie.”
The child who blatantly and mercilessly ignored my greeting rubbed his face against Kkotmoa’s nape and whined. That nape must be soft. I was startled by the thought that came to mind unconsciously when I made eye contact with the child again. The child demonstratively rubbed his face against Kkotmoa’s nape again and whined. For a moment I wondered if that child was doing it on purpose. Those clear and innocent eyes staring intently at me suggested so. But since he said “owie,” I let it pass, thinking he was urgent because he wanted to go to the bathroom.
“Our Jaea is hungry, huh? Mm, if you eat now you won’t be able to eat dinner, so let’s just eat half a chocolate bread for now.”
Did he hear the kid right? Hungry?
Kkotmoa, skillfully coaxing him, tried to go back into the corner while holding five-year-old Shin Jaea. He just looked pretty holding the child, so I wanted to keep watching. That’s why my mouth moved on its own.
“Didn’t he say owie?”
After throwing out those words, I realized. That it was strange Kkotmoa kept looking pretty to my eyes when he wasn’t even a girl.
However, I had grounds to rationalize. Not only the kids in our class but most of the kids who came looking for Kkotmoa, even the teachers, frequently used the modifier “pretty” for Kkotmoa. Some guys would jokingly make the incomprehensible statement that even if you added up all the girls in our school, Kkotmoa was the prettiest. I’d gotten used to hearing it and been brainwashed by it. Our country was a place that showed the epitome of force-fed brainwashing education, and that didn’t just appear in studying. We were living receiving force-fed brainwashing from everything around us knowingly or unknowingly. I had to think like this to feel at ease.
Even if I couldn’t explain why I was sitting here right now.
“Ah. He means hungry. Jaea is still clumsy with words, so he says ‘owie’ even when he’s hungry. When he wants to go to the bathroom, he says ‘hyung-ah, pee’ or ‘hyung-ah, poop.'”
Even though there wasn’t a single resemblance to Kkotmoa to the point I wondered if he was a real younger brother, looking at that kid made me curious about five-year-old Kkotmoa. Usually aren’t all five-year-olds cute and pretty—but five-year-old Shin Jaea had looks that suited the compliment “handsome” better than “pretty.” What kind of young kid is so handsome like this. However, unlike that child, five-year-old Kkotmoa was probably pretty and cute. He probably was pretty enough that adults would occasionally mistake him for a girl.
Hah, crazy bastard.
I really must have gone crazy. I don’t know why I keep having these thoughts. I was flustered to the point of being bewildered and troubled. It wasn’t playing into hormonal pranks because of puberty either. I’d already spent puberty with Kang Junwoo two years ago. It was because we were in puberty that we could brawl and fight. Now, for any reason, we don’t ignorantly throw punches at each other carelessly.
That’s why I had to somehow find grounds to rationalize the impression I was feeling. Otherwise, I felt like I’d have to admit I’d become a weird bastard to the point I couldn’t convince myself. But to acknowledge that strange emotion, I was still young and more scared than I thought.
In the meantime, Kkotmoa disappeared into the corner with the five-year-old child. From inside, his affectionate voice doting on the child came through like music in a pleasant melody. I wonder how many bastards actually knew Kkotmoa had such a young younger sibling. Among the kids who always ordered flowers to school, how many bastards had actually come to this flower shop directly? I felt a half-baked sense of intoxication while having idle thoughts.
“All done. How is it, Hyeondo-ya? Do you like it?”
I was staring only at the corner where Kkotmoa had disappeared, wondering when he’d come out, when Kkotmoa’s dad called me familiarly and showed me the flower basket. It was big and splendid to the point I wondered if I really only had to pay fifty thousand won for this. Unlike Kkotmoa who didn’t seem close with flowers, it was proven that their dad was definitely someone who made a living with this profession. However, I felt an inexplicable regret. Because now I had to leave this place carrying that flower basket.
“Here’s fifty thousand won. But I’m not sure if I really only have to pay fifty thousand won. You made it so splendidly well…”
“Of course you do. You’re our Moa’s friend. Moa-ya, come out! Your friend is leaving!”
I didn’t feel like leaving yet, but regardless of my will, it became a situation where I had to leave. Why did I have to feel like I was being pushed out and kicked out? It’s not like I had anything to do staying here longer. But I just didn’t want to leave. Kkotmoa, who came out holding the child, showed a beaming smile more splendid than flowers as he looked at the completed flower basket.
“Dad, you’re really the best. It’s so pretty.”
Kkotmoa saying that was prettier. As expected, Kkotmoa was more radiant than any flower in this place. So I got a headache wondering why I kept having these thoughts.
“Hyeondo-ya, your mom will really like it. It’s pretty, right?”
I was staring blankly at Kkotmoa smiling as if entranced when I felt a gaze again. The child held in Kkotmoa’s arms, with both hands covered in chocolate, had stopped eating bread and was staring intently at me. It seemed like he was silently protesting, asking why I kept looking at his hyung. It was ridiculous to have this impression about a child, but somehow it felt like I could sense hostility toward me.
“Thank you. I’m leaving.”
I bowed in greeting and gave Kkotmoa a half-hearted greeting without even making eye contact. It was because the child’s pure and innocent gaze that seemed to see through my thoughts was burdensome. As if thinking Kkotmoa was pretty was a crime, a corner of my chest throbbed and stung. This was the first time for such a reaction, so without knowing how to deal with it, I headed toward the entrance holding the flower basket. I had no immunity to this strange and unfamiliar emotion I was feeling right now, so I had to run away.
“You’re taking the bus, right? I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
Kkotmoa, who had followed me out to the entrance, swayed while holding the child. I didn’t make the wind blow, so don’t sway in front of me. We’re not close at all, so don’t rub up against me. Having followed me all the way here, he tried to control me with thoughts that wouldn’t work at all. Unaware that my gaze was lingering on his white nape. So I made eye contact with the child again. The child was still staring intently at me with clear and transparent eyes that seemed to see through even my emotions. It was uncomfortable. When I made eye contact with the child, I somehow felt disgusted with myself for having the impression that Kkotmoa was pretty and for stealing glances at his nape.
“…It’s fine. Just watch the kid.”
I coldly spat out the words and walked away. I couldn’t bring myself to take the bus holding a flower basket, so I caught a taxi.
All the way home, Kkotmoa’s scent came from beside me. The scent of Kkotmoa, who was always surrounded by flowers and gave off a floral fragrance, caused dizziness.
Even though it was a flower basket with no one to give it to, I couldn’t throw it away either. Maybe it was because I’d seen how it was made. No, more than that, just the fact that Kkotmoa’s touch had contributed to this meant I couldn’t throw it away. If it were just fifty thousand won, I could throw it away, but I couldn’t throw away the flower basket.
‘…How can you throw it away when it’s flowers?’
Kkotmoa’s clear and beautiful voice brushed past my ear. I couldn’t throw it away, but I couldn’t keep it either. Without knowing the reason, the thought that I shouldn’t keep this was dominant.
“What’s with the flowers? Did you get confessed to? These days even girls play it this big?”
I silently handed the flower basket to Mom.
“Happy birthday, Mom.”
“What? What’s this kid saying? What’s with this sudden nonsense? You don’t even know your mom’s birthday?”
Without responding, I went up to my room on the second floor. Behind me, Mom was saying things like how could I not know my mom’s birthday, this is why raising a son just means raising someone else’s husband, but still the flowers are pretty so that’s good—as if for me to hear, but I pretended not to hear anything. Having slammed the door shut loudly and come in, I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with Mom right now.
My head was full of Kkotmoa. The image of him buried in flowers flickered before my eyes. The prettiest flower among all those flowers made me dizzy in a hazy way. My heart was floating and it was troublesome. The fluffy emotions were bewildering. I was annoyed by impressions I had no immunity to. I was tormented because the white nape the child had rubbed his face against came to mind. I was frustrated because I didn’t know why I was like this.
From me, came Kkotmoa’s scent.
