chapter 15

257 39 14
                                    

Cyan's gift— the grey muffler — lay on Joon's desk, untouched and dusted, as pristine as the day when he had given it to Joon. Staring at the piece of fabric couldn't bring Cyan back. A week had passed, and Cyan hadn't contacted him. At all. 

Joon used to jump up and grab his phone the second it lit up, only to meet with an unending despair and hopelessness. He just never seemed to learn. Cyan wasn't calling him back. Joon sighed and pressed the phone to his ears, saying a dry hello to his brother. 

"12-06-07," Joon said. "Get inside yourself." 

Joon tossed the phone on his couch and resumed to stare at the steaming bowl of black bean noodles before him. Depression had him lazing around at home, skipping his daily workout and gorging on junk food. 

Minutes later, his doorbell beeped and an entire family was ushered in, completely uninvited. Joon's Harbinger-of-Chaos nephews rushed straight to the couch and plopped themselves without a greeting or a permission, while Joon's sister in law rushed after them to give them an earful. 

"Hey," Woong sat down before Joon. "How are you?" 

"Why are you here?" Joon put his chopsticks down and grabbed a tissue to dab his mouth. 

"You haven't been picking up my calls. Or anyone else's." 

"So?" Joon licked his teeth and resumed eating. The background was filled with the chatter of his nephews, and Joon wanted to yeet them out of the window. Noisy crickets. Lala was so much quieter than those two brats. And cuter. 

"You're way out of your rebellious phase. Grow up, Joon." 

"I am not rebelling. They are," Joon said. 

"You think I didn't know that you are gay? Come on, Joon. I know about those magazines. You could have hidden them better." 

"Oh well, you thought I didn't know that you knew?" Joon threw his brother a pointed glare. "Hyung, you could have taken my side." 

"That's what I am doing right now," Woong said with a smile. "Sara is cool about it, and my kids are excited about getting another uncle. So we're on your side, Joon." 

"It doesn't really matter now." Joon threw his dirty chopsticks in the empty bowl and stood up, walking across the dining area to dump the bowl in the kitchen dustbin. "And he has a daughter. He doesn't... he doesn't want her growing up with gay people." Joon's face scrunched. Speaking those words out loud disgusted him. 

"That's a massive internalized homophobia right there." Woong's eyebrows furrowed. "Joon, are you sure you want to date this guy?" 

Seo Cyan. He wasn't easy to deal with, in all earnesty. Joon didn't enjoy rejections, nor did he enjoy having Cyan trample over his emotions every damn time. But there was something about him, inexplicable, inevitable, just waiting to happen. Seo Cyan wasn't what he seemed. 

Joon knew his answer. 

"I do." 


________

"And then Cinderella lived with Prince Charming, happily ever after." Cyan closed the book softly and booped his daughter's nose. He reached over to flick the switch of the night lamp, but felt Lala snuggle against him. 

"Did you not like the story?" 

"I did..." Lala said. 

"But?" 

"But why did it have to be a Prince, Appa?" Lala suddenly climbed over Cyan's stomach and leaned to his face curiously, her wide eyes reminding Cyan of a cat momentarily. 

"Because Princes and Princesses are the heroes of the story?" Cyan felt unsure of his own answer. 

"Why couldn't it be a raccoon?" 

"Lala, listen. I know you like raccoons but humans can't be raccoons. And raccoons don't talk in real life. They can't even do taekwondo." 

Lala fell quiet. Cyan didn't like it when his daughter was soundless. It felt ominous. Like a question the size of a moral asteroid was going to crash on Cyan and shake the foundation of his baseless beliefs.

"Why didn't Cinderella learn taekwondo then? She is human." 

"Because she had no one to learn it from. And they don't do taekwondo in France." 

"What do they do in France?" Lala's sleep was evading at a dangerous speed. That was another question whose answer Cyan didn't know. And he had no idea what France was like in the times of Cinderella. 

"They build machines. And iron sculptures. Like the Eiffel Tower."

"Why did Cinderella's step sisters bully her, Appa?" 

"Do you have a hard time believing that story?" Cyan asked softly. His daughter rolled off his stomach and curled up beside him, her fingers coming up to play with his outstretched palm. 

"No," she said, "it's just that... It was weird how girls bullied Cinderella and a boy rescued her. It's the opposite in my class." 

Cyan frowned. "Who bullied you?" 

"Not me..." Lala pouted. "But Sungwon and the other boys keep calling Mirae fat. They said she looks like a pig. And no one would marry her. They also said she looks ugly." 

"Well those boys can go —" 

"I said I would." 

"Eh?" 

"I said I would marry Mirae. She's my friend. I can't leave her behind. And then I kicked Sungwon." 

Cyan chuckled. "I shouldn't encourage you but that was funny. Lala, remember what Yang said? Always use strength only when it's absolutely necessary. Use words when words work. That's what makes us different from humans." 

"But Yang also said that we are all animals deep inside!" 

Cyan needed to buy new, more complicated storybooks. His daughter wasn't going to be satisfied with Princess stories anymore. The girl was more interested in wildlife and mountains. 

"Appa, don't lie to me. Did you fight with Ahjussi?" 

Cyan couldn't lie to his daughter. She would see it through his face and then learn to lie herself. 

"Yes," he admitted softly. 

"Why?" 

"Because... people will laugh at us if we remain friends." 

"Then I will kick them. Like Yang does." 

"Lala, do you like Ahjussi?" Cyan couldn't see his daughter's face in the dark. Sometimes, she reminded him of all the good times with Haesun. Back when he had loved her. Lala reminded him of all the good things in his life, his positive memories, his happy times. 

And whenever he looked at her, he felt a little sad. His little raccoon was growing up. 

"Do you like him, Appa?" 

Cyan wasn't expecting that question. "Maybe," he smiled, "I just might."

2.2 | A Lifetime Of You ✓Where stories live. Discover now