He rushed out of the café, dragging Yang Inho — who had just bought the cake — along with him. They fled the place as if bolting out of a burning building, and when he glanced back, he was relieved to see that Choi Woosu hadn’t followed them out.
“What’s wrong with you? Is someone trying to kill you?”
“Kill me? No, it’s nothing.”
“Then why did you run out like that?”
“I just… felt a little uncomfortable.”
“Right. You don’t like crowds, do you.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. That’s right.”
That wasn’t really it, though. Yeon Juwoo must not like crowds. It was the first thing they had in common besides their names.
“Sorry, sorry. The person in front of me had some kind of problem with their payment and it took forever.”
“I see. But what did you even buy? That box is huge.”
“Oh, this?”
Wasn’t he just supposed to buy a cake his mom likes? Yang Inho was holding a considerably large cake box with both hands — one wasn’t even enough.
“There’s one for Mom, and we need some for ourselves too, so I bought a ton!”
“Isn’t that too much money? The prices there looked pretty steep.”
“It’s fine. This is exactly what Mom’s card is for.”
Yang Inho tried to reach for his card but, realizing his hands were full with the box, laughed it off with a sheepish “Oh wait, I don’t have any hands free.” That goofy look made me let out a small laugh too.
“You’re hungry, right? Let’s go!”
Suddenly, Yang Inho took off running. He used my hunger as an excuse, but it was obviously because he was the one starving.
“Hey, don’t run! You’ll spill the cake!”
I ran after him, and it struck me as funny — I was more worried about the cake getting ruined than about him falling.
Yang Inho’s house was an apartment not far from school. Just as they were about to head inside the building, a car horn honked from behind.
“Oh? It’s Dad!”
A hand shot out from the driver’s seat of a parking car and waved in greeting. The man finished parking quickly, stepped out, and walked over.
Even from a distance, he looked unmistakably like Yang Inho’s father — a testament to genetics. If Yang Inho matured a little more and took on a slightly kinder expression, he’d look exactly like his father.
“Juwoo, you’re here? It’s been a while.”
“Hello.”
Yang Inho’s father greeted me before his own son. When I bowed, he patted my shoulder with a familiarity that felt well-practiced.
“You’ve been well?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What brings you by today? Hanging out with Inho?”
“His mom invited me to have dinner together, so I came along.”
“Is that so? If I’d known, I would’ve bought more meat. You should’ve said something earlier.”
“No, really, it’s fine!”
“It’s not fine. We’ve known each other more than a year or two — Juwoo, you’re basically family.”
“……Thank you.”
Being told you’re family by someone you’re meeting for the first time feels strange. Not so much unfamiliar as… a little moving.
It’s odd that I’d feel this way out of nowhere. Maybe these were emotions Yeon Juwoo had been carrying all along. Or maybe it was making him think of his real family. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t dislike what he was feeling right now.
Somehow, he ended up going upstairs together with Yang Inho’s father. The moment they stepped out of the elevator, the rich scent of doenjang jjigae drifted over. When the front door opened, the smell grew even stronger — no doubt it was coming from inside.
“We’re home!”
“Inho, is that you?”
“I’m here too, honey.”
“Oh my, you’re home too?”
Yang Inho had only gotten a simple reply, but the moment his mother heard his father’s voice, she came rushing out from the kitchen. The couple must have a very warm relationship — they smiled at each other and went straight in for a hug.
“How did you two come together? Where did you meet?”
“I spotted the kids walking by while I was parking. Doenjang jjigae today?”
“You can’t have meat without doenjang jjigae. Oh, and — Juwoo’s here and I’ve been so rude, I haven’t even said hello yet. Juwoo, have you been well?”
Yang Inho’s mother welcomed me with a hug, just as she had her husband. The unexpectedly warm greeting made me stumble over my words a little.
“Oh, hello. I’ve been well.”
“Have you? That’s good. Your parents are doing well too?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Mom! What about me?!”
“Oh, you. Getting jealous over something like this? Dinner’s ready. Go put your bag down and wash your hands.”
“Yes……”
I was taken aback. Just how close are they that his parents dote on their son’s friend more than their own son?
He went to Yang Inho’s room to set down his bag, then came out after washing his hands in the bathroom. The food was mostly ready, but since his mother had been preparing it alone, the table hadn’t been set yet. Once I, Yang Inho, and his father all pitched in, the table was set in no time.
They all sat down together at the dining table. Even with me there — someone who wasn’t family — it felt completely natural, not out of place at all.
“Thank you for the meal!”
“Thank you for the meal, honey.”
“Everyone eat up. You too, Juwoo, eat plenty.”
The warm touch of Yang Inho’s mother patting his back, urging him to eat, made something well up inside him for a moment.
It was a scene you’d see in any ordinary happy household — but it was something that had, at some point, drifted far from his own life, so he had to hold back the tears that nearly sprang to his eyes. He found himself wondering how his real family was doing.
“……Thank you for the meal.”
“There are no more photos of me after this.”
“You moved away and completely cut off contact. That was around when we were ten, wasn’t it? Yeah. This is exactly the photo from when we were ten. After that year, there are no more photos of us together.”
“I see.”
After finishing dinner and heading into Yang Inho’s room, the first thing that caught his eye was the album tucked into the very top of the bookshelf. With Yang Inho’s permission, he opened it and, under the guise of reminiscing, gathered information about the past.
They’d started out as next-door neighbors in childhood, and Yang Inho had been Yeon Juwoo’s closest friend then as now. Though they were the same age, Yang Inho had always been bigger than their peers, and he’d looked after the comparatively slight Yeon Juwoo, who in turn had always followed his lead. Even back then, Yang Inho had been outgoing, while Yeon Juwoo was said to have been a little timid but warm and full of affection.
Their parents had been close in age too, so the families had been close as well — but when Yeon Juwoo’s family suddenly moved away the year they were ten and cut off contact entirely, they’d gone seven full years without any news of each other.
Their reunion had come this year, at school. After seven years apart, they were in different classes, but they’d grown close again so quickly that they now went to lunch together every day.
“I haven’t opened this album in forever. It brings back memories — it’s nice.”
“I know. So this is what I looked like when I was little.“
“Yeah. But… these are photos of you as a baby, and you’re talking about them like you’re looking at a stranger’s pictures?”
