8. A Feeling Like Home
Y unho’s family is the epitome of boisterous. They always have something to discuss and laugh about. In fact, they were one of the reasons the quiet and studious Yunho rarely came home back in the day. While it’s only been a few weeks since they left the country on vacation, for a time-traveling Yunho, it’s been more than two miserable years since they last had a lively family dinner together.
It’s Sunday, and Yunho drives one hundred kilometers to go home and meet his family. He squares his shoulders as soon as he arrives and steps onto the ribbed welcome mat, unsure about how to greet the people behind the door. “Relax, don’t scare them or they’re gonna think you’re weird,” he mumbles to himself.
When the door swings open and his mother appears behind it, clad in a pink floral dress and a striped green apron covered with sauce stains and flour, Yunho’s first instinct is to pull her into the warmest embrace he has ever given her. He does the same to his father, who’s still wearing his work suit, and his younger sister Yunseo, who bears a striking resemblance to him, draped in her silver silk pajamas.
All of them seem taken aback by Yunho’s sudden display of affection, but Yunho ignores their prying eyes as he resists the urge to mention just how odd it is to see them looking ten years younger.
“I missed you guys, that’s all,” he says.
After a heartwarming welcome, Mrs. Ri sets out her special homemade kimchi , japchae , songpyeon , mandu, and various sliced fresh fruits on the table.
Mr. Ri plucks out the rice liquor from the fridge and pours each one of them a cup, except for Yunseo, who is forced to settle with plain water.
Yunho braces himself for his little sister’s protest.
“It’s not fair,” Yunseo gripes, her pale face turning sour, “Yunho oppa isn’t even nineteen, yet he gets to drink alcohol. How about me?”
“At least it’s filtered,” Yunho jokes.
Mrs. Ri scowls at her and says, “You are only fifteen, Yunseo, and you are supposed to be a decent young lady. Behave like one, will you? Your brother just got home, and you’re already complaining.”
“Your big brother needs it more than you do, sweetheart. He studies too hard,” adds their father. “He needs something to take his mind off of school for a little while.”
“Oh, wow,” Yunseo snorts. “What a logical reasoning, appa . I guess I need to be addicted to studying so I can drink rice liquor, too.”
“Don’t worry, baby doll, it’s not even that good,” chides Yunho, attempting to discourage Yunseo from continuing her tantrum. “If I’m being honest with you, it tastes like cigarettes and leather and aluminum. Do you really want to drink these kinds of things? I suggest you run away from it.”
“You’re acting like I’m seven. You know I’m only three years younger than you, right?” Yunseo retorts.
Yunho gasps playfully. “You are? But I thought you were the family’s baby doll?”
“Oppa, you are so annoying!” Yunseo whines, lightly slapping Yunho’s arm with her hand.
“All right, all right. Talk later. Pray first,” Mr. Ri interjects as he clasps his hands and leads them in prayer.
Afterwards, the Ri family digs in. They talk about their Hawaii vacation, with Mr. Ri showing off the suntan all over his arms and Yunseo gushing about her surfing lessons.
As they enjoy more of the meal Mrs. Ri prepared with her loving and calloused hands, Mr. Ri raves about how their love story started with a bag of mandu. Although it’s the same old story that Yunho and Yunseo have heard countless times, Yunho doesn’t mind revisiting it again. Meanwhile, Yunseo rolls her eyes the moment she catches her mother blushing like a living tomato.
“I was close to collapsing on the street that day. It was like I hadn’t eaten for days, but really it was only twelve hours of fasting,” Mr. Ri says, reaching for a piece of mandu at the center of the dining table. “Then your mother came up to me and offered me a bag of her handmade mandu. She saved my life with those fried dumplings of hers.”
“Aw, no, you saved mine, yeobo !” Mrs. Ri exclaims, her cheeks still red. “Did I not tell you I was having a bad day because my parents wanted to marry me off to some random old rich guy? Then you came.”
“I remember, yeobo. Then I asked you to make me more mandu. And you said, ‘Okay, as long as you marry me.’”
Mrs. Ri turns redder, but perhaps this time it’s for a different reason. Anger. Or something in between. “I did not! You asked me to marry you,” she rebuffs. “You said, ‘Hey, let’s get married and run away together.’”
“The point is that we got married, and I’ve never been happier.” Mr. Ri stuffs a mandu into his mouth and chews. “To eat your mandu is a blessing, yeobo.”
“Oh God. Why is that all you think about?”
“I’m kidding. You’re all I think about!”
“You promise?”
Laughter fills the room as his parents fall in love with each other all over again.
Yunho’s tears stream down his cheeks.
Yunseo, who’s sitting next to Yunho, notices him first. She drops her fork on her plate and asks, “Oppa, is something wrong?”
“Baby, are you crying?” Mrs. Ri attempts to rise from her seat, a hint of concern clouding her face, but Mr. Ri holds her hand to stop her, to let him take the lead.
“Son,” Mr. Ri mutters, sliding a cup of liquor toward Yunho, who simply stares at it with watery eyes.
“Tsk. You haven’t changed at all,” Yunho mumbles. “I used to hate it when you encouraged me to drink, but now I just... I missed you all.”
“Son, is everything okay at school? You know you can tell us anything, right?” Mr. Ri reaches across the table to take Yunho’s right hand.
Yunho meets his father’s soft gaze, then his mother’s and his sister’s. He remembers the last time he saw them like this—sad and confused.
He was still in prison back then. They had visited him during his first year, brought him his favorite food, updated him about the outside world, protected him in their own ways—until Yunho begged them to stop.
He didn’t want to fake it anymore. He didn’t want them to witness his misery. He hated seeing them suffering just like he was, so he pushed them away.
A hundred times, maybe? A thousand? Yunho lost count, but eventually, they listened and never returned.
Now that he has his family back, Yunho doesn’t ever want to go back to being alone again.
He wants to stay.
Here. With his family.
Yunho feels his emotions rising, his tears cascading.
“Appa, eomma ,” Yunho calls for them as he chokes on his own sobs, “Yunseo. Promise me. Promise me you won’t give up on me even if I give up on myself.”
Mr. Ri tightens his hold on Yunho, as if his son would crumble into pieces any minute now. Despite not completely understanding the situation, Yunseo wraps her arms around her older brother. Mrs. Ri’s lips curve into a sad smile as tears begin to well up in her eyes as well. Gently, she reaches out over the dining table for Yunho’s other hand and says, “We’ll always be here for you no matter what, Yunho, baby. Always and forever.”
This timeline feels more like home, Yunho thinks to himself. At least I have my family. I won’t be alone again.
Another memory surges in his mind.
“Yunho.”
Yunho had always loved the way Wooju called his name, always so gentle and sweet, as if he were relishing the taste of nostalgia for the first time.
“Hm?”
“I was wondering ... Have you ever heard the saying ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling’?”
“Not really,” was Yunho’s slow response. His eyes roamed the isolated area framing the bridge, tracking fireflies dwelling within the forest, only to land on the smile etched on his best friend’s glowing face.
Yunho didn’t even tell the boy he’d been there before. He just went along when Wooju said he’d take him somewhere beautiful, somewhere magical.
The lantern bridge.
“Yunho,” Wooju started, inclining his head a little bit, his fingers twitching, “I need to tell you something.”
“Go ahead,” Yunho urged as the biting cold swept through them, sending shivers down his nape.
“The lantern bridge is very special to me,” Wooju said, and for a moment, Yunho couldn’t help but breathe him in.
Wooju smelled of fresh strawberries, of wet grass on a rainy day, and of lilac trees on midsummer’s eve. All the essence he exuded almost took Yunho’s breath away.
Unaware of the effect he had on Yunho, Wooju continued, “But the thing is, it keeps on haunting me, too.”
Yunho arched an eyebrow, drawing himself closer, but not too close, just near enough. “Haunting you how?”
“My father died here while trying to save me from drowning,” Wooju said, leaving Yunho speechless. “We used to hang out here. He loved taking pictures and videos of me, the bridge, and the fireflies. Since we spent a lot of time here together, I used to call this bridge our second home. I know he died here, but it’s the only thing I have left of him. Sometimes I feel like... he’s still here.”
Yunho didn’t know what to say, but his heart ached for his friend. He finally understood the lies concealed behind Wooju’s benevolent mask—the air of grief and sorrow, the one he spotted the first time he laid eyes on him.
It was because of Wooju’s father.
“Then I met you.” Wooju’s glistening blue eyes fell on Yunho, as if he were a rarity to behold—as if Wooju had been waiting to tell him all those years. “And I realized something.”
“W-what?” Yunho stammered, stunned by his friend’s outspokenness. “I mean, what did you realize?”
“I realized that I don’t want to live in a world without my best friend,” Wooju replied. “Ri Yunho, you’re all I have left. So, from now on, you are my home. You’re going to take responsibility, right?”
Wooju’s smile widened. There was no regret in it, just pure warmth and honesty.
After a moment of silence, Yunho laughed it off as if what he just heard was nothing but a mere joke, a childish request that didn’t need to be taken seriously.
Nonetheless, in Yunho’s heart, the promise had already been sealed. I’ll take responsibility and protect you no matter what , Yunho wanted to say, but the moonlight whispered it for him instead, and it never reached Wooju’s ears.
And so, the memory of that night clung to Yunho like a bug burrowing under his skin.