When Minho Was There • Minsung

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Jisung stood there quietly, waiting for her to continue. He didn't notice he was holding his breath until he began to feel dizzy. With his auntie, he could never really tell what she was feeling.

"We receive monthly subsidies to cover your expenses."

Oh. So she finally decided to tell me.

He nodded. Not knowing what to say. Should he tell her that he already knew? Or would that upset her?

His auntie sighed, assuming Jisung didn't know what a subside was. "We receive money." She reiterated. "I've hesitated to tell you, but—"

Jisung interrupted her; he could tell she was beginning to panic. "It's okay." He whispered, giving her a small smile. "But believe me," she ignored him, gnawing at her bottom lip. "Whether or not we receive money, it doesn't change our love for you." She rested her hand on Jisung's shoulder, as if that could provide him comfort.

He appreciated her honesty, but he wished she would've told him sooner instead of letting him suffer in silence for all those years. He couldn't just forgive and forget, and as much as he respected her, there wasn't really any room for him to form a special mother-son bond with her anymore.

Jisung looked down at his feet, not wanting to make eye contact with her. "I already knew." He spoke in a quiet voice, a sound so faint it was just barely noticeable. But she heard it and quickly drew her hand back.

There, I've frightened her.

It was always like that. They could never grow close; they were just too different. But that was okay with Jisung, so long as she kept looking after him. It was nice to have someone looking over his shoulder, even if it could get a bit annoying at times.

"I've been looking at the photos you sent."

"Photos?" Yoriko whispered in a questioning tone, her brows furrowing before they relaxed and she spoke again. "Oh, yes, while you were away I was looking at old albums," She trailed off, reaching into the pocket of her jeans and taking out a small square of paper. "And found this picture."

Jisung watched curiously as she grabbed his hand, placing the square of paper in his palm and clasping his fingers over it. It felt light in his hands. A sort of breathy laugh escaped his chest as he unfurled his hand and carefully unfolded the sheet.

His auntie didn't say much—not a surprise, but nonetheless, she watched him closely, observing the way his forehead creased and his lips twitched, as though he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words to say.

Jisung had never seen this picture before, but oh, how he wished he'd laid eyes on it sooner. The edges of the photograph were wrinkled, with small divots along the worn-out edges. The colors had been blurred and partially drained from the time it had spent stuffed in that dreary photo album, but it was still clear enough for him to make out the shapes of the building, the texture of the grass, and the light in the window.

"Do you remember?" His auntie asked, taking a moment to look at the photograph, which trembled in his hands. "It's that mansion."

She let out a gentle laugh, leaning back against the wooden railing of the balcony. "When you first came to us, you wouldn't let it go." Her eyes flitted up to the sky as a flock of birds flew overhead, their melodic chirping cutting through the fluffy clouds.

Jisung remained quiet, not yet finding the courage to speak.

"I was told at the orphanage," Jisung's eyes finally departed from the photograph, dragging up to look at his auntie, who he found was already intently staring back at him, the corners of her mouth in a strange smile, "it belonged to your previous caretakers."

Minho was a part of everything. Jisung was obsessed; he needed Minho back then as much as he needed him now. He was in the air he breathed, the moon he looked up at, the blanket he wrapped himself in, the gentle laughs he let out, the rustle of the trees, and the tears when he cried. Minho could never truly leave Jisung; he knew he wouldn't. They were both connected by love, and those memories they shared together.