Chapter Text
Geonwoo isn’t a stranger to grief. It knocked on his door when he was only a teenager; as he found out that both of his parents died in a car crash on a random afternoon. It was saddening, it was mad, and a piece of him died too that day. Eventually, growing up became just another cycle of healing and stitching up his wounds—because his grief was never directed solely at his parents. Sometimes, you too can grieve for people who are still alive. Although it felt odd. Like reaching for a high-rise shelf that’s taller than his height, even though he is about 6 feet tall.
But there’s always something so strange beating in his heart when he’s facing other people’s grief. Especially when it also happened in the same season that broke his heart years and years ago.
CHUNG YOUNG-IL, 54, CEO of the fintech leading company INVESTROOP has taken his own life in his house in Seoul, 12/01/2025. Previously, Chung has been accused of illegal fundraising and embezzlement, with the amount of the company’s total loss being 238 billion KRW.
His body is found by his only son, Chung Sanghyeon.
The funeral was awkward, to say the least. He remembered his parents’ funeral being gloomy and sorrowful, with everyone sitting there trying to hold back their tears from falling. Back then, Geonwoo was young and foolish, and he kept crying as he mourned his two first loves while trying to not freeze as the snow fell down in Seoul. Everyone else didn’t look much different. His parents weren’t famous nor wealthy, but they both had many friends who truly loved and adored their presence.
His uncle’s funeral was different. Maybe because it is also held in winter, but Geonwoo’s sure that the scorching heat of summer would never make this funeral feel less cold. Even with the amount of people going inside. Geonwoo didn’t know how to feel, when the last time he even had a proper meeting with Young-il was probably about four years ago.
The Chung family felt somewhat distant to him. His mother was the older sister of Mrs. Chung, who died at childbirth, leaving Sanghyeon as the only child to grow up alone. Chung Young-il was cold, never cared enough to appear in family functions. It didn’t even surprise Geonwoo when he found his name in the television a few months ago, as a suspect for the embezzlement case in his own company.
Now Geonwoo's eyes are only set to Sanghyeon—Young-il’s only son who’s currently sitting quietly in the given chair. His eyes looked horrifyingly empty, with unclear emotions expressed in his glassy eyes. Obviously, he should be sad, but there were no tears or screams like the ones Geonwoo let out when his parents died.
Maybe Sanghyeon has a reserved and quiet personality. Geonwoo had no clue, though. He was distant to Sanghyeon as much as he was to his father. He vaguely remembered meeting Sanghyeon when he was barely four years old, and the boy used to be all smiley and clumsy, wearing a fluffy panda onesie that covered his whole body.
But even though he doesn't know the boy that well, he knows what it’s like to lose two beloved people who raised him. So he got up from his seat to approach Sanghyeon.
“Uh, Sanghyeon? I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
His voice was so empty. No trembling, no shaking. Just a simple thank you.
“Yeah, um, hope you will feel better soon, Sanghyeon,” Geonwoo said again, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. God. Geonwoo is 27 and he still has no clue on how to nail a perfectly functioning conversation.
“Okay.”
“.. Okay."
Just like that, the conversation ended. Nothing changed from Sanghyeon, even when he had multiple people—probably his dad’s coworkers, giving him condolences. None of them looked genuine anyway. Geonwoo felt a pain stinging in his chest seeing Sanghyeon like this. All alone, with no one there to hold him. Eyes so sickened and cold like the pain is too much for him to even let out a tear.
Geonwoo silently wishes him the best, as he leaves the funeral.
Not knowing what news would strike his whole senses as soon as he got home.
“We are asking you if you could agree to be Sanghyeon’s guardian, and let him live together with you.”
Geonwoo’s heart dropped to his knees upon hearing the sudden news.
“Wh—what?”
“We know this is so sudden. But we’ve been struggling to talk to Sanghyeon and his father’s side of the family. They cut ties with Young-il a long time ago, after he failed to return the amount of money he borrowed from them. Sanghyeon hadn't met them for so long, and he disliked that family because the family disliked him and his father too.”
“And..? There’s no other option? Like his grandparents, or maybe he had other cousins that didn’t.. hate him?”
“As I said, he kept repeating how he didn’t want to be near the Chung family. Unfortunately, we looked into his mother’s side of the family, and most of the members are deceased, except, well, you.”
Geonwoo gulped. That one is in fact true. Her mom only had one sister, who is the late mother of Sanghyeon. Both of his grandparents from his mother’s side have died when he was pretty young. All that's left is himself.
“I…”
Losing both of your parents with the fear of losing everything hits different, and Geonwoo knew how hard it was for him when he kept crying because he didn’t want to leave his house and leave the remnants of what was once a happy family behind. Eventually, he was raised by his dad’s side of the family—his grandparents and his unmarried uncle would take turns living in Geonwoo’s house, making sure his life continues well without needing to leave his past behind. It was a lot of hard work, and Geonwoo is eternally grateful for their kindness.
“Well, I—uh.. wait. Why is he living with me in my house?”
His memory is hazy, but he remembered Sanghyeon’s house in Seocho being at least three times bigger than the house his parents had left behind. There was even a swimming pool in the backyard, the kind Geonwoo used to wish for when summer burned him too much. Although he could barely dig out the memory, as if the Chung’s house had always been distant and unwelcoming.
Geonwoo’s house is the average house a normal family with a normal income in Seoul would have. It isn’t bad, but it definitely couldn’t be compared with the beautiful gem Sanghyeon had before.
“Well, Sanghyeon renounced his inheritance. So, the debts of his father won’t be passed down to him, but all his assets would be taken away. His house, his cars.. he would need a new place to live.”
Geonwoo covered his mouth, hand covering his lip as it trembled listening to news that shattered his heart.
“He’s only 14..”
“Yeah, we feel sorry for him. So, uh, Geonwoo-ssi, are you okay with this? We could give you time to think if you’d want, considering this would also impact you financially and maybe also emotionally.”
There was a short train of silence as Geonwoo melted himself on the thought for too long. Geonwoo is now 27, and working as a software engineer has done wonders for his financial life. He’s been saving up a lot, barely going on vacations that could drain his wallet. He never thought of having a child, ever, but he’s sure his savings are enough for the basic needs.
“Uhm, what about school? Sanghyeon went to an international school, right? I don’t think I could afford it..”
“He’s going to be in his ninth grade this year. You could transfer him to a free public school.”
“Wouldn’t that be such a downgrade..?”
“Well, that’s the best choice, unless you want to pay his huge international school tuition.”
Geonwoo suppose there’s no harm in enrolling him to a public school. He graduated from one anyway. The kids were nice, the field was huge, the teachers would probably treat Sanghyeon well, and the food..
Wait. He’s already thinking about every little thing you need to consider when you have a child. Education. Food. Mental wellbeing. He’s sure there’s still a whole lot of other things he should list, but the thought of it is making him feel giddy. Something is moving in his heart that tells him to willingly accept the boy. He sure has the funds for it, even though Geonwoo isn’t quite sure if he is mentally sane enough to be a father. What do fathers even talk about with their sons on a regular dinner?
Somehow, even with all the haywire in his brain, there’s something so loud screaming in his head that he should accept the offer right now. As much as he doubted himself, he couldn’t stand the hypothetical image of Sanghyeon being all alone, absorbing all the pain by himself. Or worse, being next to the family that hated him. What if they send him to an orphanage? That would be even worse. Geonwoo’s hands shuddered.
Geonwoo bit his lips, gathering his courage.
“I—well, yeah. Well, after thinking about it, I think I’d be okay if he stayed with me.”
The admin audibly gasped, in shock with how Geonwoo agreed to the request as soon as possible, without further reexamining. Alas, they’re not wasting any bit of the chance.
“Really ? Oh my. This is great! We will inform Sanghyeon as soon as possible! You would need to sign some administrative paperwork first, though. We’ll inform you soon.”
“Alright.”
The beige walls of the family court faintly smelled like coffee. The size was smaller than what Geonwoo remembered, when he went to the same exact place ten years ago, with her grandmother by his side. The clock above the cabinet was ticking loudly, almost too loudly as it filled out the stretching silence while signing some papers beside a certain someone who barely spoke out any sentences for the past thirty minutes.
“I think I finished this one, sir,” Geonwoo said, as he handed out the first paper given by the clerk.
“Right. So, Sanghyeon, you are cousins with your new guardian, right?”
Sanghyeon’s eyes looked lazy, mouth parting too slowly before the sound finally came out from his throat. “Yes.”
The clerk nodded, hands fiddling in his drawer to find another set of paper. “This one is for residence registration. Where would Sanghyeon be staying?”
The decision is already fixed, but Geonwoo still felt nervous as he looked over to Sanghyeon, trying to dig out any sort of response from him. But the boy still sat in silence, refusing to speak unless needed to. There was no verbal rejection but none of his eyes sparked excitement and acceptance. Geonwoo didn’t know what to feel.
“He will be staying with me, in my house.”
“Hmm, alright. Please fill out the address.”
Geonwoo picked up the pen and scribbled the information needed, with the silence hovering between them both, yet again. The process continued again as Geonwoo filled out every one of the paperwork; school and education, emergency contacts, and some other administrative papers. Some needed Sanghyeon’s sign, and Geonwoo only passed the pen with Sanghyeon picking it up only to sign. Not once he spoke unless he was asked to.
“Your income per month is quite impressive, Geonwoo.”
“.. Uh, thank you?” Geonwoo responded awkwardly, the sudden statement taking him aback.
“I was informed that Sanghyeon had a quite wealthy family from his dad’s side, and I was confused on how they weren’t appointed as his guardian, but even though your savings aren’t as big as them, you are already pretty well off for a 27 year old.”
Right. Of course the compliment would be back-handed. Geonwoo already had another comeback stuck beneath his throat, but he was surprisingly cut off by Sanghyeon.
“I don’t care. I don’t want to live with them,” Sanghyeon said lazily, but his face looked almost red like he was holding something back.
“So I've heard,” the clerk answered, with a small grin on his face.
Sanghyeon must be a puzzle he can’t quite figure out how to solve. There’s almost no way he can predict the kid’s next move. He looked irregularly mad when the clerk mentioned something about his father’s family, and then he went back to being quiet, with the same empty eyes, not even looking back to Geonwoo’s confused eyes.
“This is the last document. We just need Sanghyeon’s sign over here.”
Geonwoo nudged the pen to Sanghyeon, as he recklessly picked it up to sign, without uttering a single sentence.
After a few administrative questions from the clerk, they both could finally go home, almost finishing all the legal process until Geonwoo could officially be Sanghyeon’s guardian, along with Sanghyeon renouncing his inheritance, which only means one thing—he couldn’t stay in his house anymore.
It’s been months since Geonwoo was contacted to be Sanghyeon’s guardian, and all of his meetings with Sanghyeon have been nothing but awkward. Sanghyeon never talked unless it was needed, and Geonwoo is too much of a loser to figure out a proper way for them to talk like a normal person. Maybe he would start talking to him like a real guardian once Sanghyeon moved into his house.
For the past three months, Sanghyeon’s still living in his own house. Most of the time, Geonwoo would come there after work to accompany him. When he’s too busy with work, he would hire a nanny to take care and watch for Sanghyeon. But since the house is so big, and he had a job during weekdays, he could barely meet Sanghyeon face to face unless it’s dinner time on the weekend. Even then, Sanghyeon would try to avoid him by bringing his dinner to his room.
Geonwoo tried to scold him once, but it ended with Sanghyeon talking back to him with a sneer.
“You’re not even my father.”
And Geonwoo haven’t yet had the guts to reply with something meaner. He thinks he should buy a parenting book to learn how to be close to Sanghyeon; a skill that he thinks is harder than his computer engineering major.
There were a few times where Sanghyeon would come home with a friend. He was a bit taller than Sanghyeon, who is already quite tall for his age. His face was round and small with sharp eyes. Sometimes he would stay over the night, but even then Geonwoo could barely face them. It seems like Sanghyeon is actively trying to avoid Geonwoo no matter what the condition is. Once, Geonwoo met the both of them, and the friend tried to introduce himself before Sanghyeon gave him an angry glare; so the boy shut his mouth. Sanghyeon wouldn’t tell Geonwoo what his name is. And Geonwoo gave up, the information that the boy was his classmate is enough. Kids do sleepovers a lot. Whatever.
With Geonwoo’s house being way smaller than this, he’s pretty sure things would change. Sanghyeon wouldn’t be able to avoid and hide from him anymore. And then they would finally have a proper conversation. Geonwoo hopes he’s not just procrastinating his unavoidable task.
“You know, you’re going to move into my place in a bit. Are you—are you okay with that?”
Sanghyeon nodded.
Of course he won’t talk. “Do you have any concerns about that? You can tell me, you know.”
Sanghyeon hesitated at first, thumbs rubbing at the side of his index finger. Until he decided to part his lips, finally saying something.
“You don’t need to take care of me that much. It’s also okay if you don’t want to give me allowance. I have a good amount of money I saved from my dad, and I can cook well so you don’t need to worry about food. I’m also planning to sell pastries I bake by myself, so I can earn money on my own. I don’t want to owe you anything.”
That must be one of the longest sentences Sanghyeon has uttered to him for the past three months. But Geonwoo immediately shook his head, putting the palm of his hand softly to Sanghyeon’s shoulders.
“Sanghyeon. You’re literally still 14. I will give you money, and what you only need is to study well. You don’t have to work like that.”
Sanghyeon’s jaw tightens, pressing his lips together like he’s holding something back. “Hyung, you don’t even know anything about me. Why do you care so much?”
“Because I want to. And I’m willing to learn, okay? I hope once you move in we will get to know each other better. And, oh, I always forget to say this, but I’m also really sorry that I’d need to move you to a public school. I hope you’re actually okay with it..? I mean, we signed the paperwork and all, but I haven’t yet seen your genuine opinion on it,” Geonwoo confessed, a bit worried that the decision would silently hurt his cousin without him knowing.
His gaze immediately dropped, and the corners of his mouth twitched. Geonwoo almost asked him what’s wrong, before Sanghyeon answered in a low voice.
“No. It’s actually okay. I don’t care.”
“Uh.. really? You seemed surprised when I said that.”
“What? No!”
Geonwoo isn’t in the mood to pick a fight with Sanghyeon, so he just nodded, even though he’s pretty sure there’s something Sanghyeon’s hiding from him. Not even pretty sure, he’s 100% sure that Sanghyeon’s hiding a whole lot of other things from him. He just doesn't know how to get the information out from Sanghyeon without making the boy angry again and again.
God, this is why Geonwoo had always said that he never wanted kids. He’s really bad at this. He really needs to buy that parenting book.
The inevitable finally happened as winter started to fade. His house still smelled like the soup he simmered for too long, to prepare for the moment he’s been waiting for three months; Sanghyeon moving in.
As always, nothing much was said as Sanghyeon stood just inside the doorway, with him taking off his shoes. He pushed a bunch of bags and suitcases to the living room, and Geonwoo helped him with a smile on his face.
“That one will be your room, Sanghyeon. Let me help you with the bags,” Geonwoo said, as he pointed to a room on the left side of the house.
“Okay,” Sanghyeon answered flatly, following Geonwoo through the hallway, as the floorboards creaked faintly with the slide of his suitcases. The door of his new bedroom is already open, and it was significantly smaller than his former bedroom. A single bed was pushed against the corner, along with a simple desk by the window. The sheets were clean and new, looked fluffy and soft even without touching.
“Uh, I know this is not much compared to your house, but I tried my best so you’d like it, Sanghyeon-ah,” Geonwoo confessed, and Sanghyeon only replied with a nod. He doesn’t seem bothered.
“Do you need help moving your stuff?”
Sanghyeon shook his head. “No thank you. I’ll pick it up all by myself.”
“Alright then. I’ll be in my room if you need anything. It’s on the second floor, okay? I cooked some soup too, you can eat it if you want.”
“Okay.”
He lingered only for a second, a part of him wanted to stay longer, but he knew better than to piss off Sanghyeon who prefers being alone rather than have his cousin overseeing the process of him settling in.
It’s better this way. For about an hour or two, Geonwoo dwelled in his bedroom, with a parenting book in his hand. The thought of it made him giggle, because never once in all his new year’s wishlist did he write ‘having a child’ or even ‘getting married’, or anything else that would lead him into grabbing a parenting book in the bookstore.
Come to think about it, he never had plans for marriage. Few of his friends already had their rings sealed with a ring, some others are still enjoying their life with their boyfriends or girlfriends with a locked promise that some day they will intertwine their lives together in marriage. The concept came across as strange to the life of Kim Geonwoo, who drowned himself in his own hustle that he never had space for love.
It’s not that important, really. When did he even ever fall in love? It’s not like there’s anyone who could possibly tug his heartstrings.
Except..
No. Geonwoo shook his head, grabbing his parenting book. He does not want to think about what he left behind in winter ten years ago.
Since Sanghyeon is sort of a teenager, Geonwoo thought it wouldn’t be that hard. Like, if he was mean enough, he could’ve just passed him some money and called it a day. But there’s indeed a different kind of complexity when you raise a teen where they’re already old enough to form a separate identity from their parents, but not yet an adult to be left alone. He needs some guidance, but Geonwoo can’t occupy and control his world. He needs to understand Sanghyeon whole but he also needs to accept the nature of a boundary between them.
But Geonwoo can’t run away for too long. Sanghyeon is already living with him, and he needs to have that vulnerable conversation that keeps getting postponed. How is Sanghyeon feeling? What does he want for both of them? Maybe he could finally dig the emotion out from him once they both sit together in his warm house while eating a nice meal.
Geonwoo knocked Sanghyeon’s door carefully. “Sanghyeon-ah, I ordered some pizza, do you want it?”
Sanghyeon didn’t answer, but he immediately opened his door. Even an emo avoidant teen can’t resist the smell of a mozzarella pizza.
They sat across from each other at the table. It was quiet at first, only the sounds of pizza-munching became audible. But Geonwoo braced himself up.
“Uh, Sanghyeon? Since you’re living with me now, and I’m officially your guardian, I think we need to be at the same point together.”
“Like.. what?”
“Like.. Well, no, what I mean is—what I mean is that we need to actually talk. Don’t ignore me. I need to know how you’re feeling and what you want from me, okay?”
Sanghyeon shrugged, his slight smile from the delightful pizza faltered after Geonwoo spoke out his thoughts. “I told you, you’re not my father. I’d do whatever because I owe you this place, but not that.”
“Sanghyeon-ah, you don’t owe me anything. I’m not your father, but I am your guardian.”
“And?”
“Well I’m supposed to take care of you, Sanghyeon! And how am I suppose to do that if we never talked?”
Sanghyeon’s grip on his spoon tightened. “I told you, you don’t need to take care of me.”
Geonwoo bites his lips, a stirring mix of disappointment and nervousness rising through him. “But I need to, Sanghyeon. You know I also lost both of my parents in a young age. I know how it hurts. We’re similar in many ways.”
Sanghyeon audibly snorted, and let out a dry laugh that was completely humorless.
“We’re not the same.”
The appointed guardian sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. “Then tell me, what makes us different? I want to understand you, Sanghyeon-ah.”
“You won’t.”
“What? How hard would it—“
“You won’t.”
Geonwoo massaged his forehead with his thumb, looking visibly drained in his attempted conversation with Sanghyeon. Sanghyeon refused to look at him, eyes focused on the food on his plate.
“Well, if you won’t let it out on me, you can spill your hearts out to the school counseling.”
The mention of that word triggered something within Sanghyeon as he dropped his remaining pizza while it was about to enter his mouth.
“The—what? No!” He almost yelled out, brows knitting together in rage.
Geonwoo gulped. All the sarcasm in Sanghyeon falters as it transitions to something more displeasing.
“It’s just the school counseling.. they heard about the case, and they offered a little counseling to understand you better. They won’t do any harm.”
Sanghyeon's face was red as he stood up with his cutleries held tight in his hand. He looked angry, his chest rose and fell too fast.
“How would you know that..?”
“Because it’s just the school counseling? I knew it because I experienced it too, Sanghyeon! I got hurt too! You know my parents died in winter too, right? I know exactly how—“
Sanghyeon cut his sentence, anger flaring in his whole tone. “Well your mistake is thinking that you truly know what’s best for me. None of you do. Not even my dad. Especially my dad. All of you adults think you know everything, when you don’t!”
“Sanghyeon-ah..”
“Your parents died in winter too, hyung? Then we have one thing in common. Why can’t we just leave all this winter depression behind? Fuck winter, actually. I hate it, and I know you do too. So let’s just never talk about it again.”
Geonwoo was about to scold his cursing, because that’s probably the most sensible thing he should do. But before he could do that, Sanghyeon already scoffed and scurried away towards his room like nothing ever happened.
Geonwoo was left alone in the dining room. He closed his eyes briefly, head tilting back in exhaustion. It was only the first day and he already ruined the beginning of their relationship. He should've done better, but Sanghyeon should’ve also been nicer. Geonwoo knows how big grief could impact someone’s life, and it’s manifested in many different ways, but he wished he knew how Sanghyeon navigates through it. He shouldn’t have been afraid to be honest with his own guardian. Geonwoo is trying his best, he really does.
But now he could only rub his face with his two hands, wishing something could’ve turned out different. He’s not regretting his decision, and he’s not giving up, but the frustration is getting into him.
It’s probably selfish to think that he could fully understand Sanghyeon’s grief only because he experienced it too. Sanghyeon’s right. His own trauma might’ve been different—but how different can it be? It still hurts Geonwoo just thinking about it.
The wound was no longer fresh, it didn’t bleed anymore. But his memory of ten years ago remained sharp; he missed the people he left behind, back in the winter of 2016.
His mother and father. Died in a sudden car crash.
It would’ve hurt less if it was only them.
Kim Geonwoo lost Lee Sangwon a week before the accident, and while grieving his dead parents hurts like hell, grieving Sangwon who is still alive somewhere in Seoul stings a lot more because it's been ten years and he still thinks about what could’ve been if he only said sorry.
Sangwon didn’t die, but the guilt surely felt like Geonwoo stabbed him with a knife.