The Warmth of a Person
The day after she'd wished for something interesting to happen over the dull holiday stretch, she received an invitation from Suyeon.
The home of a friend—her first visit to one, and a girl her own age, no less.
Had she actually gotten permission for this?
Yeoncheong, who had set out to match the notice to come by in the evening, was nervous herself... but she was hardly the only one.
"Aaargh! Siyeon, what do I do? She's already on her way!"
Suyeon's home.
The one who'd extended the invitation was every bit as flustered as Yeoncheong.
Siyeon sat perched on her own bed with her arms crossed, watching her twin spiral into a full-blown panic.
"You invited her. Why are you freaking out now?"
The room was even messier than usual when she'd come home that day.
Suyeon shoved the clothes strewn carelessly across her desk and chair into the closet.
"I invited her on a spur of the moment!"
"Then you should've said it was a joke."
"That's—!"
Suyeon closed the closet door, hesitated, and her lips wavered.
"...I couldn't."
She simply couldn't stay quiet after hearing that Yeoncheong had watched a movie alone with Seoha.
The twin sisters' faces flushed red.
As if she'd seen something she never should have, Siyeon's expression curdled.
"Ugh... this is gross."
Rising from the bed, she picked up a stray piece of underwear from the floor at Suyeon's feet.
"If you're going to clean, clean properly. I can't have the room looking like a pigsty. It's my room too, before it's yours."
"Siyeon..."
Suyeon's eyes sparkled with emotion.
"I knew I could count on my little sister!"
When she lunged in for a hug, Siyeon twisted away to dodge her.
"Don't call me your little sister. It kills my motivation to help."
"O-okay, Siyeon."
They were just dividing up the chores and planning the cleaning when Suyeon's smartphone rang.
Seeing Yeoncheong's name flash on the screen, she shrieked.
"What! Is she here already?"
Suyeon answered the call, nodding along repeatedly, and exchanged a look with Siyeon.
From the way she was grabbing her jacket, Yeoncheong had apparently arrived a little early. Siyeon waved her hands frantically, and Suyeon flashed a one-handed apology.
Finishing the call, she headed out of the room.
"Mom, I'm going down and coming right back up!"
"Is your friend here?"
"Yep."
Jacket slung over her shoulders, Suyeon hurried down to meet the friend waiting below.
Considering she could've simply texted Yeoncheong the front door code and let her come up on her own, the fact that she went down to fetch her personally proved Suyeon wasn't entirely in her right mind either.
She briefly considered turning back, but the moment the elevator reached the first floor and its doors slid open, her eyes locked squarely with Yeoncheong's, waiting outside.
Going back now would only make things weirder.
"...Hi."
"Hey."
In the end, Suyeon held the door open from inside and rode back up in the elevator with her friend.
A low mechanical hum filled the air.
Some inexplicable awkwardness sealed both friends' mouths shut, and the elevator—utterly indifferent to its passengers' turmoil—rose at its usual leisurely pace.
An eternity compressed into moments later—
Ding.
The moment they reached the right floor, Suyeon bolted out the instant the doors opened, practically fleeing.
Behind the light patter of Suyeon's slippers came the heavy thud of Yeoncheong's shoes.
"Here we are."
"...Thank you for having me."
Following her friend through the opened door, Yeoncheong stepped inside with nervous courtesy.
It was the first time in her life she had ever visited a friend's home.
After greeting the twins' parents, Yeoncheong—
"Perfect timing. I'll bring you a chair, so have a seat."
—was promptly captured by the friend's mother with a jerk of her chin.
Watching the dishes fill the table, Yeoncheong couldn't sit still, her bottom bouncing restlessly on the chair.
Suyeon, the very person who'd invited her, said she'd pop up to her room for a moment and showed no sign of returning.
Her friend's parents told her to make herself comfortable, but having never experienced anything like this before, Yeoncheong naturally couldn't.
"Um... could I help with—"
Her lips wavered with awkwardness, but—
"Just sit and relax."
"Yes, ma'am."
At the mother's firm cutoff, Yeoncheong quietly glued herself back to her chair.
Come to think of it, this really wasn't the right timing to show up...
It might have been a little easier if she had any experience visiting a friend's home.
Yeoncheong glanced around as if she were sitting on a bed of nails.
Stealing occasional glances at her daughter's friend, the twins' mother spoke in a soft voice.
"You're Yeoncheong, from Suyeon's class, right?"
"Ah, yes..."
"You're even prettier than I heard. And so well-mannered, too."
"...Sorry?"
Flustered by the sudden compliment, Yeoncheong fiddled with the hair falling down to her shoulders.
"Our girls won't come out to help until you beg them to. Your parents must have raised you very well."
At the word parents, Yeoncheong flinched, then managed a nod.
"...Yes. Thank you."
"Hey! Mom, what are you talking about? When have we ever been like that?"
A grumbling voice came from behind, and two identical twins appeared.
The mother set down the spoons and chopsticks on the table and looked at her two daughters scooping rice with utter exasperation.
"Oh, look at that. Don't put on your good-daughter act just because there's a guest. This is all an act—don't fall for it."
"Ah, why are you badmouthing us, Mom!"
The words flowed from Suyeon and Siyeon's mouths in perfect, flawless unison.
Unable to hold it in, Yeoncheong burst into giggles.
"You look more at ease now."
Only then did the twins' mother relax, her face softening into a warm smile.
However—
"Yeoncheong, you... you're not crying, are you?"
At the same moment, Suyeon noticed the glimmer at the corners of her friend's eyes and studied her with concern.
Memories she now had to reach far, far back to recall even faintly.
Tears welled up unbidden at the warm, tender scene growing more distant and hazy with time.
"No, it's just— you were all so funny."
Chasing away the uninvited guest settled at the corners of her eyes, Yeoncheong forced a smile.
The meal itself was nothing out of the ordinary.
"So when did you and Suyeon get so close?"
"You're in the same club as Suyeon? Must be tough keeping up with her."
—the kind of ordinary things any parent says to their child's friend.
"Where do you live?"
"Are you studying hard?"
—mostly the sort of typical questions anyone would ask.
Except, given Yeoncheong's circumstances... not a single answer was anything close to ordinary.
"Oh my! You live on your own? And you're spending this holiday all by yourself too?"
Hearing Yeoncheong's story, Suyeon's parents' eyes went round.
"...Yes, well, it just sort of worked out that way..."
"Even grown adults say they get lonely living alone. Doesn't it bother you?"
"She's right. It's dangerous, too."
A friend their daughters' age, living all alone—the worry soaked through the parents' voices.
"I'm fine. At school I'm with the others, and Suyeon and Siyeon are around, so I don't spend much time at home anyway."
Even so, the father of the two girls pursed his lips in clear disapproval.
"No offense to your parents, but just how busy can they be, leaving a girl on her own in this harsh world?"
"That's what I thought. I figured at least one of them would come to Korea."
There was the father of Suyeon, making the reasonable concerns of any parent raising a child of their own—
—and there was Suyeon, who had no idea that Yeoncheong had only one parent left.
Siyeon just stared at Yeoncheong with round eyes, as if wondering whether she'd truly never been told.
This wasn't the reaction she'd hidden it to provoke, so Yeoncheong spoke up hesitantly.
"Well... the truth is, my mom passed away a long time ago. My dad raised me alone."
Yeoncheong scratched her cheek awkwardly.
"..."
The silence that settled over the house laid bare exactly how embarrassed and flustered Suyeon's family felt.
"Oh... um... I'm so sorry..."
"Yeoncheong, I'm sorry... I'm really sorry..."
They hadn't meant it, but a mistake was a mistake.
As Suyeon and her father apologized, Yeoncheong waved her hands in alarm.
"No, no! It's fine. I never really told anyone properly, that's all."
Her throat seemed dry; Yeoncheong took repeated gulps from the glass of water, and the meal carried on in an awkward atmosphere.
The moment the meal ended, the twins' parents insisted on doing the dishes themselves and shooed Yeoncheong off to the room with the two girls.
It was her first time ever setting foot in a girl her own age's room, so she should have been nervous—but she'd long since been swept up in a far bigger shock.
Besides, Yeoncheong had no chance to even look around the room.
"I'm sorry!"
The instant she stepped inside, Suyeon—who'd been fidgeting with her fingers—bowed at a rigid ninety degrees and apologized.
And she declared she'd stay bent like that until Yeoncheong's heart softened. Yeoncheong, barely enduring, hauled her friend back upright with a groan and shook her head.
"Nobody knew except Siyeon. So it's not your fault."
"She knew?! And told you?!"
When Suyeon shot her twin a look brimming with reproach, Siyeon averted her eyes.
Information she'd kept hidden, wondering if she could use it to tease Suyeon someday.
Coming clean was guaranteed to go over badly, so Siyeon kept her mouth firmly shut.
Just as Suyeon was about to unleash her fury on her silent twin—
"No. I told her not to."
Yeoncheong placed a hand on Suyeon's shoulder. The memory of that day, when they'd spoken with hands on each other's shoulders, surfaced, and her gaze was caught by the blue of Suyeon's eyes.
Turning her attention away, Yeoncheong finished what she'd started to say.
"...If I told people my mom had died, they'd see me as some poor pitiful kid—like something about me was broken. So I hid it."
Siyeon, who'd brushed it off pretty lightly, and Suyeon, who'd been ready to scream at her sister mere moments ago, both froze.
Honestly... it was practically a lie.
But even Suyeon, expert at catching Yeoncheong's lies, couldn't detect it now.
It was a lie only because she could say it so calmly now—back then, every word of it was something Yeoncheong had genuinely experienced and felt.
"I-I wouldn't do that..."
"M-me neither."
Suyeon shook her head, insisting she would never see her that way.
For some reason, Siyeon hurriedly chimed in as well.
Yeoncheong gave a small laugh.
"I know you two aren't like that, obviously. Especially you, Suyeon—you mess with me so much, there's no way you'd ever pity me."
"Heyyyy... now I just look even worse."
Confirming that the mood had loosened up considerably, Yeoncheong rose from her seat.
"You're not leaving already?"
"I have to."
"Stay a little longer."
Siyeon clearly wanted her to linger too, but Yeoncheong herself—the one who had set the whole house on edge—didn't trust herself to sit there acting composed.
"Invite me over again sometime."
As she gathered her things, a familiar object caught her eye.
"Looks like you're getting good use out of it."
Melted wax had pooled at the base of the wick—as if it had just been lit.
Noticing where Yeoncheong was looking, Suyeon's lips wavered.
"Y-yeah. Siyeon and I burn them together. Twice the atmosphere."
"So I see."
Yeoncheong checked the candle sitting on Siyeon's desk as well, and a gentle curve spread across her lips.
"It's getting late—I really have to go."
Glancing at the clock on the desk, Yeoncheong headed for the door.
"Hey, wait a second!"
Flustered, Suyeon blocked her way and stumbled over her words.
"I mean... you came all the way here today and we didn't even hang out. I didn't do anything for you. And, and also..."
Yeoncheong gazed quietly at her friend, doing her desperate best to hold her back—
—and then, "Huh? What? Wh—" she threw herself forward and wrapped Suyeon in a tight hug. Siyeon, standing beside them, swallowed hard in shock, and Suyeon, experiencing this for the first time, was visibly flustered too.
"What do you mean you didn't do anything for me today?"
Like a child fussing, Yeoncheong nuzzled her head against Suyeon's shoulder as she clung to her.
"Your parents, who fussed over me like I was their own daughter. A table set with nothing missing. Small talk about nothing in particular..."
Reciting the utterly ordinary scene any household might show, Yeoncheong murmured softly.
"Just letting me feel it—the warm, cozy, long-missed sensation that I never felt living alone with Dad, or living by myself the way I do now—that's more than enough."
Yeoncheong had always believed such feelings were far beyond her reach.
In truth, she'd lived just fine until now, and she'd gotten through this very summer break without a single problem.
And yet—
The freedom called living on her own had passed beyond novelty and was settling into familiarity.
At some point, as if by magic, the world around her—the friends who kept watch at her side—had changed.
And somewhere in the middle of this long, long holiday, she'd realized: she needed the warmth of a person, too.
Suyeon had opened her arms, and for a long while, she held the Yeoncheong who had been searching for something.
How much time had passed?
"Ah, sorry. This wasn't what I meant to do."
Feeling she'd acted childishly spoiled for her age, Yeoncheong fidgeted awkwardly.
"Have a good rest of Chuseok."
When Yeoncheong refused to budge despite Suyeon's protests that she was leaving too soon, Suyeon's father offered to drive her, and they left the house together.
"Wow... unbelievable."
Nothing of the sort had actually happened, and yet Siyeon scratched at her reddening cheeks.
Suyeon, standing there in a daze, quietly closed her eyes.
Determined not to forget the faint warmth of Yeoncheong lingering in her arms.