The Two Through Their Parents' Eyes
The tail end of March, and another weekend had rolled around.
Thanks to the kind teacher he lived with helping him study, he hadn't fallen behind in class, and compared to before, he'd even managed to build something resembling a social circle. He could almost say he was settling into the new semester—almost.
"You okay?"
"…I have to be."
He said it, but he'd been like this since the crack of dawn. No wonder Seolhwa was worried.
He'd cleaned more thoroughly than usual and checked everything over so many times that no one could have found a single thing to criticize. There was no real reason to be nervous. And yet… he simply could not calm down.
He was on what must have been his dozenth heavy sigh when the cheerful chime of the doorbell rang out.
Yuseong, we're here~
The bright, carefree voice crackling through the intercom belonged, as always, to his mother on one of her home visits. But she no longer showed up out of nowhere with nothing more than a halfhearted heads-up the way she used to. The reason she'd done that before was because Yuseong, who hated the hassle of it all, had simply refused to deal with her coming over at all.
These days his life had settled into something resembling a normal orbit, and Seolhwa was here too. There was no longer any reason to hide. And so his mother had shifted to the ordinary approach of calling ahead—though lately even that wasn't enough for her, and she'd taken to dropping by on impulse more and more often.
But he was getting used to that as well. Seolhwa visibly lit up whenever his mother visited, and if Seolhwa was happy, he had no particular reason to mind.
This time, though, there was a difference. Not I—the word she'd used was we.
"You've tidied up well. Just as I heard."
A man who had never once set foot in this place… his father swept a glance across the room and delivered his assessment. Yuseong carefully bowed his head.
"…Thank you."
The strained relationship between father and son had been sorted out—but put another way, that was all they'd done. Sorted it out. They still hadn't really talked, not even after making peace, and the awkwardness lingered in every corner. His father knew it too, which was probably why he was trying to change things somehow. As a son, Yuseong couldn't exactly ignore that effort… but the tension that seized him of its own accord was another matter entirely.
"Mm, mm—it was always clean, but today it's practically sparkling. You must've gone the extra mile because Daddy was coming, huh, my sweet boy~?"
"Don't say unnecessary things."
She'd hit the bullseye dead-on, so there wasn't much he could deny. All Yuseong managed was a jab of his elbow into his mother's side. But if she'd been the type to stop at that, she never would have started.
Maybe she was just enjoying his reaction… His mother only beamed even more brightly at the scolding, and Yuseong dropped his head with a sigh, surrendering to whatever came next.
"If you tease him too much, Yuseong won't give you the time of day, dear."
In moments like these, his father was truly the only lifeline he had. Yuseong was silently thanking him for reining in his mother's energy just enough when the doorbell rang again without warning, and a chill ran down his spine.
Don't tell me…
He didn't believe in gods as a rule, but right then he almost wished one existed—if only so he could beat the deity responsible for this miserable fate to within an inch of its life. He checked the intercom, and there on the screen was the familiar nuisance, voice absurdly cheerful.
I came to hang out~!
He would have sent her packing on the spot, but his mother insisted firmly that you couldn't stand up a friend who'd gone to the trouble of coming over. Left with no choice, he let Eunha into the house.
"Wow, you're gorgeous!"
"My, you've got a good eye. Our Yuseong owes you a lot, doesn't he? He doesn't give you a hard time with that prickly attitude of his?"
"Oh, don't even get me started~ Cleaning up after him is a full-time job in more ways than one, you know?"
"Hey."
Wasn't this the kind of conversation you were supposed to have when the person in question wasn't standing right there? And more importantly, who exactly was cleaning up after whom? He told them to cut the nonsense, but neither of them showed the slightest sign of listening. Yuseong exhaled a silent sigh at the sheer force of their combined energy.
"Still, he's gotten so much better~ He's been coming to school regularly lately, and he's made a bunch of friends too. Love really does change a per—ow ow ow!"
Before she could spit out anything even more unnecessary, he grabbed Eunha by the head and yanked her back.
"In the short time I haven't seen you, you've made plenty of good friends besides Seolhwa, haven't you? Mom's so happy!"
"I'm sure you are…"
He had no immunity to this kind of talk. The embarrassment hit harder than any joy. Eunha, with her needlessly sharp eye for these things, caught his reaction even with her hair being pulled and flashed a mischievous grin.
"Aww, he's embarrassed~"
"It'd be weirder not to be embarrassed."
"Come on, come on~ Yuseong needs to get used to compliments! Right, ma'am?"
"Exactly! Eunha's so sharp, and she talks so well! Yuseong's wonderful in every way except he just can't be honest~ Oh, should we exchange numbers? Will you tell me more stories next time?"
"Excuse me, both of you."
One whirlwind was already more than he could handle. Two was simply impossible. He tried to stop them before things got completely out of hand, but an alert chimed—she'd already deftly texted over her number. Yuseong pressed his fingers to his brow in silence.
At this point, it was easier to just think of himself as caught in a natural disaster. He dropped onto the sofa in defeat, and his father, who had been quietly watching, sat down beside him.
"You've gotten lively."
"…Have I?"
Get any livelier and someone might actually get hurt. He was so drained that the tension had somehow flown off somewhere far away, and he found himself answering his father naturally.
"It's a little late to say this, but I was worried in my own way. Still, it looks like you're doing well."
If that was the case, it would have been nice if he'd come by once or twice sooner—the thought crossed his mind, but he didn't bother saying it out loud. The version of himself from before he'd met Seolhwa probably would have let the bitterness well up all over again.
"…As you can see."
If anything, this timing was probably the best it could have been. He was looking forward properly now… because someone who made that possible was right there beside him.
He answered while watching Seolhwa fondly—caught between his mother and Eunha, flustered under a barrage of praise—and his father, saying nothing, lifted the corner of his mouth and reached for the coffee cup on the table.
"So? Feel better?"
Time had passed. It was late enough that Yuseong and Seolhwa had already gone to bed. Eunha had suggested that since they'd come all this way, they might as well stay the night, and neither of them had any reason to refuse. And so here they were.
But the two adults hadn't gone to sleep. They sat at the living room table, talking.
"Yeah. He's doing better than I expected. I'm relieved."
"Heh. Oh, Minwoo. You could have just been honest and come sooner. I wonder if this runs in the family? Neither of you can be straightforward to save your lives."
"Who knows."
He was the one who had brought things to this point. He was aware of that much, at least. He had only one son, and all he'd wanted was for him to chase a steady, reliable success rather than some uncertain dream. But that had only tightened the noose around Yuseong. In trying to prove his dream was worth something, the boy had pushed himself far too hard.
Because he loved him, he had tried to be strict. Because he wanted to raise him strong, he had said nothing.
That day, after hearing the story, Seolhwa had told him: if you don't say it, no one will know. She herself had struggled so desperately to be acknowledged by her family, by her father, and had never heard a single word. She hadn't wanted Yuseong to end up like her.
The look in Seolhwa's eyes when she'd faced him that day was still vivid in his memory. Eyes shaped by a tragedy of never being treated like family, of trying and failing to earn that place—eyes full of sorrow and despair. And Yuseong must have worn those same eyes, because of a father who had never once sat down and properly talked with him, even after becoming an adult.
"Do you regret it?"
"I can't exactly say no."
If only he'd realized a little sooner. If only he'd set things right—those were the kinds of thoughts that had been occupying him lately. Seojin seemed to catch the drift of Minwoo's mind, and she smiled.
"It's all right. There's a saying that regret is always too late, no matter how early it comes, right? Looking back doesn't change anything. Yuseong got through it somehow. What good would it do for you to fall apart over it now?"
"…I suppose."
And there was that other saying, too—all's well that ends well. Taking comfort in Seojin's words, Minwoo drained the contents of his mug in one go.
"Well, personally, I wouldn't mind if he leaned on us a little more~"
"He'd have a fit if he heard you say that."
"Honestly, not a cute bone in his body~ Yuseong's improved in so many ways, but I wish he'd take a page from Seolhwa on this one."
"…I'm still not sure about that other matter, either."
"…Saebom?"
At Seojin's question, Minwoo answered with a silent nod.
The despair of never earning his father's recognition, of failing—and the loneliness of being betrayed when the one precious friend he'd had left without a word… Either one alone would have been cruel enough. Yuseong had broken under it and shut himself away. Looking at him then and looking at him now, he might as well have been a different person, living so well—but the worry wouldn't go away.
"Well… we didn't ask, so maybe it's better not to poke at old wounds."
"You're probably right."
In the solemn quiet, a soft creak sounded, and both of them held their breath. They turned toward the hallway door and found their eyes meeting Seolhwa's.
"Oh my, you weren't asleep? Is something wrong?"
From what Yuseong had told them, Seolhwa stuck to a regular routine—but apparently she sometimes woke from bad dreams. Seojin spoke carefully, trying not to let her concern show too much, but Seolhwa lowered her head with a hesitant air.
"I—I woke up thirsty, so…"
"Oh, you should have said something. I'll get it for you right away~"
"I—I'll do it. You really don't have to go to the trouble…"
"No need to be polite. Just wait a moment."
Feeling the cool air of the refrigerator, Seojin poured water from a bottle and handed it over. Seolhwa bowed her head deeply.
"Um… I'm sorry for interrupting your conversation."
"Oh, nonsense. We were just chatting. Don't worry about it—we're family, after all~ Right?"
"Yeah. You don't have to be so formal."
"Family…?"
"Goodness, I've already been picking out names for the grandchildren. Was I getting ahead of myself, Seolhwa?"
"W-what…?!"
"You really shouldn't tease her that much, dear."
"Teasing? I'm completely serious! Anyone can see those two are in it for the long haul! …Though speaking of which, we shouldn't tell Yuseong, should we?"
"That's—um… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop…"
Trying to change the subject, Seojin had ended up touching on the very thing weighing on her mind—and her guess proved correct. Seolhwa bent at the waist in a deep, flustered bow, and Seojin waved her hands rapidly.
"Oh, there's nothing to apologize for! We weren't going to scold you. Minwoo, don't just sit there—help me out!"
"He means he'd rather you didn't say anything, because knowing we're worried would just embarrass him. He puts on that front, but he's actually quite shy underneath."
"You—honestly! Of course parents worry. Every time I call he tells me he's fine and not to fuss, but how am I supposed to just leave it alone?"
Minwoo was fondly placating Seojin's grumbling when Seolhwa's expression suddenly darkened, and both of them fell silent, holding their breath.
"…Did we say something strange?"
She looked like she might actually cry. Far worse than the misunderstanding a moment ago—like the dam holding back her tears was about to give way. The second that look crossed her face, she seemed to decide she mustn't let them see her cry, and she dropped her head hard. When Seojin asked, worried, Seolhwa shook her head vigorously.
"N-no, of course not!"
"I just… thought how envious I was."
They didn't need to hear another word. Both of them understood exactly how Seolhwa felt.
They'd heard about her circumstances from Yuseong. The environment she'd grown up in, and how she'd come to wear an expression like that—all of it. It was a cruel irony, really. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and what family remained had offered only indifference and contempt. In Minwoo's case, he and his son simply hadn't communicated well—but the love in the family had always been genuine. With Seolhwa, there had been nothing of the kind at all.
For a girl who had never been treated as family by her own family, a household like this must have been hard to take in. A silent why seemed to ride the air from Seolhwa's sorrow. A soundless but unmistakable cry of pain reached them, and Minwoo felt something close to anguish.
Two people who had loved each other, and the precious proof of that love. To neglect and break a child who should have been treasured above all else… Seolhwa's family—he didn't know their faces or their names, but a revulsion unlike anything he'd ever felt rose up inside him. Just keeping it from showing on his face took considerable effort. He could only watch Seolhwa in silence as she stood there on the verge of tears pouring down like rain.
Seojin must have felt the same in her heart. She gave a soft little laugh and beckoned Seolhwa over. When the girl hurried to her side, Seojin pulled her into a firm embrace without a word.
"Um—Seojin…?!"
"'Mom' is fine too, you know. Right, dear?"
"That's right."
She looked thoroughly flustered by the sudden closeness, but there was no sign of her pulling away—and the revulsion from a moment ago began to give way to a warm fondness.
"We already think of you as our child, so you can lean on us as much as you want."
"You're the one that hopelessly closed-off boy of ours says he truly loves, aren't you? We've seen it for ourselves. And look how sweet and kind you are."
The person who had helped Yuseong—who had suffered for so long—finally look forward again. The person he said he loved more than anyone. There was no reason in the world not to call her their child.
"That's—I—I…"
She clearly had no defense against this kind of talk. From what they'd heard, Yuseong showered her with affection constantly, but hearing it from parents was apparently another matter entirely. The sorrow on Seolhwa's face had been replaced by a flood of bewilderment and confusion.
"You care for Yuseong, and we know you take those feelings seriously. Wanting to be happy together, the way you look toward the future… that's more than enough for us to think of you as our daughter."
Unlike Seojin, Minwoo had no particular gift for sentimental speeches—but it was only after hearing Seolhwa's story that he'd finally been able to untangle the knotted thread between himself and the son he'd hurt for so long. Including everything he hadn't managed to express back then, he added his own words, wanting her to feel at ease.
Relying on each other was only natural—that was what Yuseong himself had said. How thoroughly the boy had fallen for Seolhwa, and how thoroughly it went both ways, was obvious at a glance. They were his parents, after all. Coming here and seeing the two of them living together, watching him bicker with his friend—it had brought a relief deeper than he'd expected.
"See? Even he can say something like that. We already think of you as our daughter~ Honestly, we can't wait for you to become our daughter-in-law."
For now, no matter what they did, they couldn't become this child's family. But someday. Once their son properly conveyed his heart, and once the two of them confirmed their love for each other, they would be able to say the word family with their heads held high. Lately, Minwoo found himself hoping that day would come just a little sooner.
He and Seojin had been a one-and-only pair from the start, and if nothing else, he believed that particular quality had been properly inherited. Above all, he hoped Yuseong would never have to go through something like that again. He sincerely wished he would never lose someone precious and thrash in that kind of pain. Which was another way of saying that Seolhwa had already become someone this household couldn't do without.
"You're still just a kid. Helping you through that is what adults do—what parents do. Lean on us whenever you need to, all right? If you'll have us, we'll help you anytime."
Seojin murmured it like a whisper, gently patting Seolhwa's back. Seolhwa couldn't seem to find her voice; she only nodded quietly.
The floorboards had grown a little damp, but for now, they would pretend not to notice.
That, after all, was what family meant.