against the wave

the house was quiet.

wonwoo sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of sunoo’s old room, the afternoon light slanting through gauzy curtains. the photo album rested in his lap, the spine creaking like an old song as he opened it. the pages smelled faintly of dust and citrus shampoo, a scent sunoo used to love when he was small.

he hadn’t touched the album in years, not because he forgot, but because remembering too much, too clearly, was its own kind of ache.

the first photo: sunoo’s first day of school.

with his little tiny uniform, red sneakers, gap-toothed grin. his backpack looked comically large on those little shoulders. wonwoo remembered crouching, adjusting the straps, smoothing down cowlicks that refused to settle.

and just before he ran off—sunoo had turned, flung his arms around wonwoo’s neck and whispered:

“daddy, bye! I love you so much!”

wonwoo’s throat tightened.

Schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile… 

he remembered how sunoo waved again and again as he walked down the hallway, how wonwoo had stood frozen at the school gate, watching, as if he could hold his son back with nothing but longing.

I watch him go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while… 

so he sat, right there, on the same floor where sunoo once built blanket forts and read aloud from picture books, mispronouncing every other word. where his tiny hands once tugged on wonwoo’s sleeve saying, “look what I made, daddy!”

the room had changed, but not really.

baby blue walls turned to movie posters, then beige when he left for university on the mainland, before coming back to decide that he wants to get married.

The feeling that I’m losing him forever
And without really entering his world… 

wonwoo flipped the page.

a birthday photo, sunoo was eight, there's cake frosting smeared all over his face. arms wrapped around Wonwoo mid-laugh, cheeks flushed with sugar and joy.

he remembered that laugh.
he remembered the way sunoo said: “you’re part of the party too, daddy. you’re always part of it.”

I’m glad whenever I can share his laughter
That funny little boy… 

another page.

a summer trip. sunoo who's eleven at the time, was standing at a cat café on the mainland, proudly holding a sleepy kitten to his chest. his bucket hat tilted sideways, eyes squinting in sunlight. the photo was blurry—he’d been dancing too fast for the camera to catch.

wonwoo never asked him to stay still, he just wanted his son to keep shining.

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute—
The feeling in it—
Slipping through my fingers all the time… 

he smoothed out the edge of the page with his palm, so many snapshots...

sunoo on stage during a school play, his homemade knight costume unraveling mid-line.
sunoo is building a volcano for science fair and spilling vinegar on the carpet.
sunoo curled into wonwoo’s side during cartoons, bowl of cereal in his lap, already half-asleep.

and then… the quiet years.

headphones, hoodies, and mumbled “good nights” and "i love you"
distance, growing pains, and a different kind of love.

Do I really see what’s in his mind?
Each time I think I’m close to knowing—
He keeps on growing—
Slipping through my fingers all the time

there were questions, too.
at sixteen, Sunoo began asking him, gently and hesitantly:

“Why do people say I don’t look like you?”
“What about when I was born?”

and Wonwoo… didn’t always answer because he didn’t know how, because saying anything meant facing things he wasn’t ready to name. he’d tucked it all away, like you do with things too painful to leave out in the open.

Sometimes I wish I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time… 

the last photo was recent.

sunoo, twenty now, standing in the garden. his arms crossed, shoulders broader, jaw sharper but still the same warmth in his eyes.

the sunlight tangled in his hair, he looked like someone who belonged in the world. not a boy anymore, not really even his.

wonwoo didn’t realize he was crying until a single tear hit the photo sleeve.

Slipping through my fingers… 

the song faded into silence. wonwoo stared at the last photo, fingers resting on the edge of the page.

he could’ve sat there forever, until—

“YAH, JEON WONWOO! GET YOUR HOT ISLAND DAD ASS OUT HERE—WE’RE DYING!”

wonwoo jolted, the photo album nearly slipping from his lap. the stillness shattered like a glass under a boot.

he scrambled up just in time to see two familiar figures dragging their suitcases up the rocky slope that led to the house.

seokmin, who's tall, sweating, and dramatic as ever, was fanning himself with a flip-flop, while Soonyoung, who's much smaller but twice as loud, was visibly fighting a chicken that had apparently declared war on his luggage.

“IS THIS THING EVEN DOMESTICATED?! WHY IS IT CHASING ME, SEOKMIN?!” soonyoung cried, flapping his arms. 

“I TOLD YOU, DON’T PACK SNACKS! THEY KNOW” seokmin wheezed.

“you two look like you lost a war” wonwoo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, lips twitching. 

“WE DID, to this island! to the sun! to poultry!” soonyoung yelled.

and with that, seokmin threw his arms open, dramatically belting—

My, my, at Waterloo Napoleon did surrender

“YOU DID NOT” wonwoo muttered, half-laughing, half-mortified as seokmin grabbed a broomstick from the porch and used it as a mic.

Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way

soonyoung spun on the gravel path, striking a pose with his chicken-pecked duffle bag.

The history book on the shelf—is always repeating itself
WATERLOO! I was defeated, you won the war! 

wonwoo sighed but couldn’t stop the fond smile curling at his lips.

WATERLOO! Promise to love you forever more!

“please stop, the two of you, the neighbors will think i’m harboring theater kids” he said as they shimmied up the porch steps, still singing. 

“we are theater kids, just older and louder” seokmin said, breathless but beaming.

“and more powerful, and do you see this? this is what friendship and humidity look like” soonyoung added, pointing to the sweat soaking through his tank top. 

“why didn’t you pick us up at the dock? we almost died climbing here” seokmin whined as he dramatically collapsed onto wonwoo’s outdoor bench. 

“yeah, and the boat guy called me ‘sir.’ do you know what that does to my sense of youth?” soonyoung added, flopping beside him like a Victorian widow.

“i said arrive a day later, you weren’t even supposed to be here until tomorrow,” wonwoo rolled his eyes. 

“we missed you too much” seokmin grinned, kicking off his shoes.

“also, we heard you needed help” soonyoung chimed in, pulling out a still-cold can of soda from his bag like a magician.

“...with what?” wonwoo asked, suspicious.

“emotionally, obviously” seokmin said instantly. 

“physically, we’re here to build arches, decorate, drink wine, look pretty, whatever this wedding needs” soonyoung corrected.

wonwoo stiffened, he didn’t answer and seokmin noticed but he didn’t push, he just gave Wonwoo a soft nudge on the arm.

“hey... you okay?” wonwoo hesitated, then nodded once “yeah, just… lots to do.”

“well lucky you, babe since the cavalry has arrived” soonyoung looped an arm around his shoulders and grinned. 

“WATERLOO—wonwoo, you can’t do this alone anymore!” seokmin threw his hands up dramatically. 

“did you just rhyme?” soonyoung gasped. 

“it’s the song” seokmin whispered, dead serious.

they were inside in under ten minutes, leaving a trail of sand, open luggage, and snack wrappers behind them like overgrown children. wonwoo had given up trying to keep the floor clean after the third time seokmin spilled trail mix and soonyoung used a curtain as a towel.

“this house hasn’t changed at all” seokmin said, peeking into the kitchen like it was a museum exhibit.

“same mugs, same smell, same passive aggressive notes on the fridge—oh my god, did you write this one to yourself?”

soonyoung gasped as he read aloud, “‘don’t forget to buy eggs, you idiot.’”

“it worked, didn’t it?” wonwoo muttered, sipping his tea.

“i swear, you’re the only man i know who argues with himself and wins” soonyoung said, dropping his bags with a thud.

they kicked off their shoes and plopped on the couch, sighing in unison like synchronized swimmers who had finally reached land.

“so, where is the star of the wedding? is sunoo around?” seokmin asked, nudging Wonwoo’s knee with his foot.

"no, he’s out, probably touring jake's and his college friends around” wonwoo said, voice quiet.

“ah, with the fiancé, the one with the nose that could slice everything” soonyoung said with a teasing wiggle of his brows. 

“he’s nice” sonwoo said, lips quirking despite himself.

“can’t believe little sunoo is getting married, last time I saw him he was asking me if dragons were real and why his dad made broccoli taste like betrayal” seokmin leaned back, resting his head on the armrest. 

“that was the same week he tried to hide in the closet to avoid math homework and we found him asleep on your coats.” soonyoung laughed, flinging a cushion at him. 

“he used to call me working as ‘grown-up time.' said all I did was stare at papers and sigh” wonwoo smiled, small and soft. 

“you do sigh a lot,” seokmin pointed out.

“i do not—” wonwoo fights back.

“bro, you just sighed twice in the last sentences” seokmin rebutted.

“okay but he’s right, sunoo was always too smart for his own good. a little detective in light-up sneakers" soonyoung added, grinning.

there was a warm pause, not heavy. Jjst the kind of silence that settled between old friends who knew how to let memories float gently to the surface.
wonwoo didn’t say anything, but seokmin noticed the photo album still sitting on the edge of the coffee table, its corner folded from where it had fallen earlier, he nudged it lightly with his toe.

“were you looking through the past again?” wonwoo didn’t answer right away, he just looked at the album, then at the familiar walls of the house he’d raised a son in. a son who used to drag paintbrushes across these floors, who wore pirate hats to breakfast and cried when he outgrew his favorite hoodie.

“i just… wanted to remember,” he said finally. “before everything changes.”

soonyoung sat up slowly, expression gentler now. “nothing wrong with that. you’ve done good, wonwoo.”

“yeah, you gave that kid a beautiful life, the best you could,” seokmin added, tilting his head to look up at him. 

wonwoo didn’t speak, he just nodded, throat thick, then of course, soonyoung ruined the moment in perfect timing.

“so... important question, did you finally fix that haunted-ass toilet upstairs? or is it still doing the ‘phantom of the opera’ every time you flush?” he asked brightly.

“still sings,” wonwoo said dryly.

“YES! i missed that weird, tragic ghost!” soonyoung pumped his fists. 

“we should name it like gerald or bartholomew,” seokmin clapped.

“bartholomew the bathroom banshee,” soonyoung declared.

“i should’ve never invited you” wonwoo rubbed a hand down his face. 

“no you couldn't, you love us.” seokmin said, beaming. 

“and we love youuuu,” soonyoung sang, draping himself over wonwoo’s shoulder like an overly affectionate cat.

 Honey, honey, how you thrill me—uh huh, honey, honey!

“stop.”

 Honey, honey, nearly kill me—uh huh, honey, honey!

“i will lock you in the chicken coop.”

“do not threaten me with a good time,” soonyoung said, and then screamed when the actual chicken reappeared in the window like a vengeful spirit.

the sun had dipped behind the cliffs, and the island buzzed with cicadas and low waves. the radio crackled, caught some static, and then—

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life

“OH MY GOD IT’S TIME” soonyoung shrieked. 

“WAIT. NO. START IT FROM THE TOP” seokmin nearly dropped his wine bottle. 

he scrambled to the radio like it was a defibrillator, hitting the rewind button while soonyoung stood in the middle of the garden clearing, already shimmying like it was 1979.

Friday night and the lights are low
Looking out for a place to go

“wonwoo! i swear to god if you don’t get up—” soonyoung barked. 

“i’m cooking” wonwoo said flatly, turning a fish on the grill.

“you’re stalling!” seokmin shouted as he jumped up behind him and stole the spatula “you’re outnumbered!”

Where they play the right music, getting in the swing
You come to look for a king

“betrayal,” wonwoo muttered.

but the intro was already picking up, and soonyoung had turned his bucket hat backwards like it was part of the choreography.

Anybody could be that guy
Night is young and the music’s high

“THERE. THE DANCEFLOOR!” soonyoung pointed dramatically at the jungle behind them. 

seokmin joined him, swaying with mock sultriness.

With a bit of rock music, everything is fine
You’re in the mood for a dance
And when you get the chance

“i'm not doing this,” wonwoo said.

“you are,” soonyoung said, already dragging him by the arm. wonwoo resisted for exactly two beats before the chorus dropped and then—

You are the dancing queen
Young and sweet, only seventeen

DANCING QUEEN!
Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah!

all three of them screamed it into the island air. wonwoo gave in completely, throwing his arms up, offbeat and unbothered. seokmin did a dramatic dip in the grass while soonyoung twirled himself into a bush and kept singing.

You can dance, you can jive
Having the time of your life
Ooooh, see that girl, watch that scene
Diggin’ the dancing queen

by the second verse, seokmin had grabbed two spatulas as makeshift maracas, and soonyoung was trying to do high kicks in flip-flops. wonwoo laughed until his ribs hurt, until his eyes watered, until the weight in his chest cracked wide open and something warm spilled out.

You're a teaser, you turn 'em on
Leave 'em burning and then you're gone
Looking out for another
Anyone will do

wonwoo looked out at the stars overhead, music bouncing off the cliffs, his friends harmonizing like drunk backup singers. he wasn’t sure when the ache in his heart had become a song. but tonight, it felt a little easier to carry.

they sang it again and again and maybe a little too off-key the last time, but they didn’t care.

Dancing queen… young and sweet, only sev—okay no, twenty,

“but come on! you get it. HE’S YOUR WHOLE HEART.” soonyoung slurred, throwing an arm around wonwoo’s shoulders. 

wonwoo just smiled, quiet, full, and sang along again.