Jongho stands at the edge of the woods, Yunho and Siyeon beside him.

"This is as far as we go for now," Siyeon gives a sympathetic smile.

Once again, Jongho is plagued by doubt. Doubts which everyone - he assumes - faces during moments of uncertainty, of trial in the path of life.

But he is strong enough now, he tells himself. Strong enough to face his past with the freedom of a clear mind. He's seen another way, a way in which he feels free, like he can be anything, and anything he can be is enough.

"Are you ready? You have your water and everything, right?"

Jongho can't hide his smile at Yunho's concern. "Ya, Hyung," Jongho pats his sack, "I didn't lose it in the last ten minutes."

"Yeah, Yunho," Siyeon speaks up, "he's an adult."

Adult. Jongho cringes at that word, the notion of what it entails, and he tries not to become anxious. Everyone seems to hate being an adult. At least, everyone in the world he is used to.

Immediately, he recalls the words of an acquaintance. Standing over a grill, the young man had voiced his thoughts to Jongho. "Being an adult," he started, "is always working and sleeping but always being broke and tired."

That sounds atrocious.

Yet, even the adults who have it far better, are they joyful? Are they free? Only a dismally small amount.

But he tries to shake away those thoughts; he brings to mind, instead, the adults of Gidae. The way they laugh in the fields and play with their children. The way they call out to each other in passing as they trod barefoot, then sit down and not merely speak but listen in the heat of disagreement.

"Yes," Jongho states, "I'm ready."

Yunho just nods for a moment, hands in pockets.

Jongho hates how dramatic this all feels. "I'll see you soon, Hyung."

Yunho reaches his hands up, tucking the last strands of hair into Jongho's pale hat. Even in the chill, Jongho is warm. "See you soon, Jongho."

And they part.

The walk from his house to the forest's edge, it felt so much farther to Jongho when he walked it two months ago. So, uncomfortably soon, Jongho stands in front of his family's front door.

He'd always thought their particular door was painted red. He thought the handle a shining gold. But now, they look more similar to mudled versions of grey. The sole color as robust as his memory's is on the shutters: black.

Do I knock? He questions. He decides he can no longer simply walk in. Heck they might not even live here anymore. To be safe, Jongho checks the car in the driveway. It looks like Eomma's. Jongho hopes Mama is home, too.

Before he has a chance to think further, someone opens the door. Face to face with Wooyoung, all speech is caught in his throat.

Emotional whiplash smears Wooyoung's face as his eyes bore into his twin's. Jongho can't process. He wants to run away in shame and hug him all at the same time.

Jongho, again, attempts to speak. "Hi, Hu-" And the door is slammed in his face.

If his family doesn't allow him back, will he be able to find Geoncho on his own? He does not even have snacks like last time; and the weather has turned far colder...

"Who is it?" Jongho hears Mama call from inside. He doesn't think Wooyoung answers.

Again, the door is opened and he is eye to eye with a shocked relation: Mama. "Jongho," she whispers.

Inundated with a mother's premortal care, Wheein wraps her lost son in a hastened embrace. "Jongho," she repeats. And he cautiously hugs her back.

"Eomma and I went to the police for you," she stands back from her son, "filing report after report when you didn't come back. But when they heard you went to the community..."

Jongho knew law enforcement wouldn't bother in that case. It was no longer considered missing persons.

"Didn't you recommend that I go?" Jongho speaks softly, unsure.

"For a WEEK, Choi Jongho, I-" she closes her eyes with persed lips. "A week, Jongho. You were supposed to be gone a week."

He doesn't reply; what can he say?

Wheein runs her fingers through her hair. "Eomma is on an important case in Seoul." Of course she is, Jongho rolls his eyes internally. "She can probably catch a flight back tomorrow if need be."

They look at each other once more. "Come inside, Jongho. The kids will be home soon."

Sure enough, the school crowds start to pass by.

First come the high schoolers, herded into cliques of wealth and fame. Stragglers walk in between the groups, alone, headphones forcing a barrier between their minds and the world.

But Woohyeon is not among these crowds. Mama says she's not been returning home until far later these days.

Next, the younger classes walk past, less separated, yet one can still tell who is the top dog, and, unfortunately, the underlings.

All Jongho hopes is that his youngest siblings do not react as Wooyoung has.

His heartbeat rises at a click from the door.

Eunmin escorts Kyungmin inside, helping him unlace his boots. Jongho stands up from his seat, brushing his shirt and slacks until his hands rest in an awkward hold.

Then, the children look up.

"OPPA! HYUNG!" They scream in unison. Jongho watches their eyes light up with joy as all regrets and cares for the future are pushed aside.

"Hi guys," he softly calls. And before even removing her shoes, Eunmin runs through the room to launch herself into her brother's arms. Jongho barely catches Kyungmin as he follows a moment after.

And for a little while, they just exist: wrapped in the familial warmth.

How accepting the children are of their brother's return. Not upset, not betrayed, simply happy to have him returned. Jongho wonders at what age they will begin to hold a grudge, or need explanations, or refuse the love of another.

When Wooyoung emerges to prepare dinner, Jongho carries the youngers to play in their room (since they still refuse to leave his arms). Jongho will probably have to sleep on their floor tonight; he doubts Wooyoung will be pleased to allow him back to their shared space.

"Oppa," Eunmin starts, nervous. Jongho's heart is pierced with self-loathing upon hearing the way she speaks that single word.

"Mmhmm?"

"Why did you leave?" She looks into her brother's eyes as he carries her.

"I'm sorry," he starts after a sigh. "I'm sorry that I had to. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you three. But... it wouldn't have ended well if I stayed."

"How do you know it wouldn't?"

And he doesn't know in what way to answer her question, because, in all honesty, there was no way he could be sure.

As they begin to play, the toys, to Jongho, seem to be different colors than he remembers: barely distinguishable from each other in that sea of shaded grey.

It's strange, only compared to light can one understand how utterly dark the opposite really is.

Dinner is awkward; Mama and Wooyoung don't speak much and Jongho can't tell if that's because they're mad or lost in thought. Maybe some of each. At least the kids are still just bouncing around, happy to be back with their brother.

Now, Jongho sits in the living room, waiting for his last sibling to return.

Kyungmin rests in his lap, head falling to Jongho's chest every other second until he bounces back into a fragile waking state. Cuddled into his side, Eunmin is the same.

Mama wanted them to go to bed. Jongho, too, tried to coax them into their room. But eventually Mama gave in; she was tired.

In the darkness, which wasn't quite as late as it felt, Jongho waited until the children were soundly asleep. Shifting slowly, he reaches for a pillow to lay Eunmin's head on. He barely breathes as he stands with Kyungmin against his chest. Kyungmin shifts in his arms, completely trusting, as he is carried upstairs. Jongho missed this; having this love, caring for people, being relyed on.

After laying him under the covers, Jongho walks back downstairs for Eunmin. She, too, he carries upstairs, tucking her into bed. He tosses some blankets onto the floor for his own sleep later.

Then, walking back downstairs, there is a click from the door.

- • -

Jongho tenses, folding his hands over his waist as he waits for Woohyeon to enter.

As she steps over the threshold, Jongho notices she looks to be more tired, more worn, than when he left. She slips off her boots and jacket, and, along with them, the chill of a late autumn night releases her.

Woohyeon pulls her cell and the dull, blue light illuminates her face. Her eyes seem to retract from the screen in pain, but still, she sends off a text. Then she slides it back into her pocket, rolling her eyes.

Mid-roll, her eyes catch the eyes of someone standing before her. Her heart spikes in her chest as she steps back, readying for questions. But then, she realizes who it is.

"Oppa," she whispers. "You're back."

"Yeah" Jongho holds his arms across his chest, rubbing his skin in self-soothing. "it's been a while I guess."

"Are you staying?" She asks, still standing by the door.

"For a little."

She nods.

"Mama says you haven't been home much lately." Jongho wants to hug her, but assumes she won't be receptive.

Woohyeon laughs, but her eyes hold a piercing darkness. Like venom, hatred simmers in her chest. "Yep." She locks the door behind her. "Because every time I step foot into this house I want to kill myself."

Jongho can feel himself deflate into saddness. Saddness that his sister is now going through what he did, and already knowing that he can do nothing to help.

For a long while, Jongho had wished for someone to save him; for someone to reach into his world and pull him from the darkness. A parent, a friend, a priest, a lover.

But no one ever did.

After being with everyone at Geoncho, watching them and talking with them, he started to understand something.

At this moment, juxtaposing himself with Woohyeon, he realizes something very important: no human can actually save him, because the one he is fighting is only himself.

And now, he will see Woohyeon, too, suffer against herself until she learns to live.

"I'm tired," she sighs, "good night, Jongho oppa." Walking towards the stars, she turns around a final time, "welcome home."

Dropping to the couch, Jongho feels something he had almost forgotten about. A dull, aching pain settles in his chest.

But, he remembers to close his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out: breath in, breathe out. He rests his hands on his thighs, feeling his chest move in rhythm.

Let yourself be who you are. Let others be who they are. Solutions will emerge.

(Jongho still isn't sure about that last one.)

Soon, Jongho, too, heads upstairs. He carefully enters the kid's room, snuggling under his blankets.

At night, a man with glowing veins pervades his dreams. Someone tall, with pure eyes and pines growing from his skin.

He dreams of an entrancing smile and an emerald voice which controls the flowers growing up around them. Two heads of hair are slicked back in the mist of a well-known waterfall.

Jongho doesn't realize how much he smiles in his sleep.

When Jongho wakes, before opening his eyes, he can feel the smile still on his lips.

But then, he smells the air: stale, musty, dull, like the breaths he takes cannot entirely satisfy. Jongho remembers he is no longer in the mountains.

It's funny, though. He could not understand the dark in which he had lived, until he saw the light of a new world.

The kids are still asleep in their beds as Jongho sits up.

It's early; he doesn't quite know why he awoke so early.

Tiptoeing out of the room, he smells coffee from downstairs, so he drags a deep inhale into his lungs before moving forward, because there are only three people who coffee might be for, and all three of them will be awkward meetings.

But, armed with a calm mind, he enters the kitchen.

At the counter, Wooyoung looks up from his laptop, then goes back to typing; he has the touchscreen on, so it emits no noise. The only sound is spluttering coffee as it steams and drips into the pot.

"Good morning," Jongho says softly as he takes a seat across from his brother.

"Morning." Wooyoung says harshly. He's simply adhering to courtesy; familial care is gone. Wooyoung stands, closing up his laptop, and Jongho wants to cry. These actions wouldn't have hurt him much before, so, he thinks, perhaps in the safety of Geoncho, the walls around his heart had begun to crack.

Wooyoung packs his textbooks and laptop into his bag (his bag of horribly dull color) and throws both coat and satchel over his shoulders.

"Wooyoung-ah," Jongho tries again, but he is ignored.

As the spluttering stops, Wooyoung pours his coffee into two single-use cups. Looking on, this practice now seems horribly wasteful to Jongho.

One cup is still half empty, so Wooyoung pours it full with filtered water. He zips his jacket, shoves his phone in his pocket, and picks up both coffees; he sets the americano - silently - on the counter next to his brother.

"Hyung." Jongho tries, the name he rarely calls his brother, the one used soly when Jongho wants something from him, to invoke their bond.

And Wooyoung sighs.

"We'll talk when I get back, Jongho."

Jongho's skin prickles as bitter wind blows into the house with Wooyoung's exit. Alone, he sips his coffee, but it does not entirely satisfy.

Woohyeon doesn't walk the kids to school this morning, she seems to be avoiding just about everything, so Jongho ends up walking them. Of course the youngers are ecstatic.

It is good to see them, his family, but the entirety of Jongho's life path seems far more confusing after returning home.

The route to school feels just as familiar as the day he left, the billboards, the exhaust, the people scurrying from house to car to building. Sometimes Jongho smiled at those passerbys, but they do not acknowledge his presence.

Upon reaching the school gates, Eunmin and Kyungmin hesitate to take another step. "Noona..." Kyungmin whispers, pulling on her hand. And the two look nervously between each other.

Jongho's heart sinks.

"What is it, Kyungmin-ah?" Jongho softly asks.

But Kyungmin doesn't answer, instead he pulls more violently on Eunmin's hand. "Noona," he says, more urgent.

She sighs, taking on her older sister role. "Oppa," she starts, "are you leaving again?"

And Jongho's heart breaks.

He hesitates. Isn't he? Isn't he leaving in just a week? Maybe he could stay... He loves them. If he truly loves them, wouldn't he stay?

"I..." Eunmin's face drops while Kyungmin's lights up in hope. "I don't know. But if I do leave, it won't be for a little while. I'll be home when you return from school."

And they are satisfied, if only barely, so Jongho enjoys a quiet walk home. Or, at least, he tries to enjoy it. Because walking is an entirely different experience when the ground is obscured by shoes and layers of cement.

It's just... grandly more lifeless.

In front of his house, Jongho stops on the sidewalk.

Eomma's car is in the driveway. Sleek and black - pristine - just like a corporate lawyer should be. Above suitcases, he sees a suit still hung in the car window.

Let others be who they are. Let yourself be who you are. He breaths.

With that, he walks inside.

— • —

Wheein and Hyejin are seated at the dining table. In sync, they look up as the door clicks open as Jongho walks in. Jongho, on the other hand, looks down as he slides off his shoes, placing them neatly in their cubbies.

Eomma must've caught a very early flight to be home so early in the morning.

Jongho is both touched and concerned by the effort.

Eomma rushes to her son to engulf him in a hug. Again, he is touched and concerned. He doesn't really know what to do in this situation, the level of concern shown by Eomma here is... unusual. Jongho looks over Eomma's shoulder, giving a questioning look to Mama. But Mama isn't much help. She just nods, which Jongho assumes means hug back, which he does.

Eomma moves a hand from Jongho's back up to the back of his head, caressing him, protecting him. The way Eomma is holding him, the way her hand presses against his hair, it has Jongho melting into her chest.

And he hates it.

Because this warmth, this care, is what he craved. For ages. And now, when she finally does this simple gesture, it's as if all the distance is washed away.

Pathetic, he says. Desperate.

How quickly he can resort to his old ways.

But, Jongho catches himself. He no longer allows his mind to run wild in its downward spiral.

This is all I wanted as a child, he tells himself. I don't know how to feel about it now.

And not knowing how to feel is perfectly okay.

Then, Eomma lets go. She hesitates, silently stuttering between speaking or keeping her thoughts to herself. It's hard for her to know what to do as a parent. Jongho knows this, and he understands why, but still...

Hyejin chooses to walk away, leaving Weein to deal with their children's emotional needs. As usual.

"She was really worried about you," Mama says to her son.

"I know," he replies. But he doesn't know, since she does not show it.

•

12-29-22 3k words.

A/N: Sorry the updates are taking so long! We'll see how it goes lol. Also I turn 20 tomorrow!