It started after his father left home.

Only his mother and he remained in the house. At his young age, he didn't fully understand why his father had left. He only remembered that one day, the men's shoes that used to be in the entryway disappeared, and his mother sat at the dining table for a long time without saying a word.

So, from a very early age, he decided. That at the very least, he should never leave. That he must not leave his mother alone.

Thus, he grew up considering it his duty to protect her. On the outside, he didn't want to look like an easy target to anyone, so he dyed his hair bright and learned how to look at people with sharp eyes. He answered bluntly even to those who spoke to him first, and he pretended to be fine, smiling even when things were uncomfortable.

But he wasn't originally that kind of person.

He couldn't even raise his voice properly, and if someone got hurt, he worried about them more than himself. Even if a single cup broke, he checked the person's hands before the broken shards, and he only felt at ease once he had returned what he had received.

He just didn't want to look weak. He didn't want to become another source of worry for his mother. So, it was okay.

He was someone who could endure well. Until his mother got sick.

Even when his mother first said she was sick, he thought it was no big deal. He said she'd be fine after a trip to the hospital. His mother said the same. That she'd get better after some rest, so he shouldn't worry for nothing.

But the days she went to the hospital gradually increased. His mother kept saying she was tired and fell ill more easily than before. From then on, he started working more.

His mother told him not to.

You should be doing your own thing too.

Then he would smile and reply.

I am doing my thing.

His mother couldn't say anything more after hearing that. For Yunseul, that truly was his 'thing.'

Taking care of his mother, earning money, taking her to the hospital. And preparing so that one day, when she was healthy again, she could return home. That was everything.

The day his mother was hospitalized long-term, he returned to the empty house without a word.

That night, his childhood friend visited. And not long after, they moved their belongings into the entryway. Because they felt they couldn't leave him alone, couldn't leave him to go to the hospital every day, work, and return to an empty house.

At first, they said it would be temporary. Only until his mother was discharged. That was how the two began living in the same house.

Their life together was strangely ordinary.

Yunseul always woke up first. While his childhood friend slept, he prepared meals, checked the fridge, and bought anything that was needed. Then he left small notes on the fridge.

「Eat before you go.」

「They say it'll rain today. Take an umbrella.」

「There are side dishes in the fridge. Don't eat them all.」

「Call me if you're late.」

At first, the childhood friend found it bothersome. When asked why he wrote these every day, Yunseul would give a half-hearted answer.

If I don't write them, you'll forget.

Yet, the next day, there would be a new note. On days he returned from the hospital, on days work ended late, on days his face was full of exhaustion. Yunseul always took care of his childhood friend's meals.

If they touched something hot, he checked the back of their hand before their surprised expression; at his friend's mention of pain, he found medicine instead of just asking if they were okay; and if he saw them crying, he sat beside them without asking why. That was how he pretended everything was fine.

No, it was as if he believed that if he acted like everything was fine, it really would be.

Every day after work, Yunseul went to the hospital. In front of his mother, he pretended even harder that everything was normal.

He asked what she ate today and laughed, saying hospital food must be tasteless. He asked what she wanted to eat when she was discharged and said they should all eat together with his childhood friend once she returned home.

When his mother said she was sorry.

What's there to be sorry for?

He would reply. When his mother said he didn't have to come anymore.

Then who else would come?

He said. To Yunseul, it was only natural. He was his mother's son, and he, at least, had to stay by her side.

When night fell, he returned home. On days his childhood friend fell asleep first, he sat by the window alone. And he looked at the moon. He wasn't religious. Usually, he didn't even believe in things like gods. But since his mother entered the hospital, he looked at the same spot every night and made the same wish.

To let his mother be discharged, to let her return home. That it was okay if he suffered more instead. That he could work more, lose sleep, and give up on the things he wanted to do.

So please, just send his mother back home.

That was his only wish.

But there were things that wouldn't come true no matter how hard one lived. His mother's condition gradually worsened. Yunseul went to the hospital more often. He worked even longer hours. To ensure the hospital bills were covered, to buy what she needed when she was discharged. So that when his mother finally came home, they could live just like before.

Then, from a certain point, Yunseul began to ask himself. If I work a little more, will it get better? If I earn more money, if I move her to a better hospital, if I stay at the hospital longer, if I just do a little better. Will my mother be able to return?

But in the end, his mother never returned. And Yunseul couldn't tell his childhood friend that fact. Because the moment he spoke the words 'my mother died,' it felt like he would have to admit she was truly gone.

Even after the funeral, Yunseul returned home as usual. He took off his shoes, set down his bag. He stared at the dining table for a long time.

And the next day, for the first time, he didn't leave a note. The childhood friend didn't know. That Yunseul's mother had passed. That Yunseul had held the funeral alone. That he had called his mother's number several times alone since that day. The only thing the childhood friend knew was that Yunseul had become strange.

Yet Yunseul kept saying.

I'm fine now.

And.

You can go now.

At first, the childhood friend refused. Asking why he was suddenly like this, if something had happened. But Yunseul said nothing. He just kept saying he was thankful for everything. That he could be alone. That they could leave. Even as his voice trembled, he said he was fine.

Eventually, the childhood friend accepted Yunseul's words. Thinking he probably just needed time alone. So they returned to their own home. And they messaged him.

「Did you eat?」

There was no reply.

「How are you doing?」

He didn't read it.

「Tell me if anything happens.」

Still no answer. Months passed like that. Unable to wait any longer, the childhood friend finally visited that house again.

They rang the doorbell. Once, twice. Three times. For a long while, there was no answer. Just as they were debating whether to leave, a faint sound came from inside the door. And slowly, the door opened.

The childhood friend couldn't say a word. Because Yunseul had changed so much.

His once brightly dyed hair had long black roots growing out, and he seemed to have no intention of dyeing it again. Deep dark circles had settled under his eyes, and his face was noticeably more gaunt than before.

Above all, he looked small. The person who had dressed so roughly to avoid looking like an easy target to anyone. Now he stood there like someone who could protect nothing. The inside of the house visible through the crack in the door was the same. Unorganized clothes, piles of trash, windows that hadn't been opened in a long time.

Yunseul stared at his childhood friend for a long time before speaking.

Why did you come?

It was a strained voice. When the childhood friend couldn't say anything, Yunseul gave a hollow laugh.

To see me like this? I told you never to come back.

As the childhood friend took a step forward, Yunseul backed away. And finally, as if he had been holding it in all this time, his voice trembled.

Even you... why are you doing this to me...

Only then does the childhood friend realize. That Yunseul's mother had died. And that he had been crumbling alone for months. Yunseul spoke with his head bowed.

He said he had kept living hard, earned money for his mother, went to the hospital every day, and did everything he could while cutting back on sleep.

But.

Is it because I didn't work more? Because I couldn't earn more money? If I had only known a little sooner...

Finally, the tears he had been holding back fell.

At least I should have...

His father had left. He had vowed that he, at least, would stay and protect his mother. So he lived his whole life for her. And yet, in the end, he couldn't protect her.

Yunseul looked at his childhood friend, unable to even wipe his tears.

I couldn't even protect my mom.

After a long while, he spoke in a voice so small it was almost a sob.

I don't have the confidence to protect even you anymore. Go back.

His only wish was never granted. and fearing he would lose the person he cherished most once again, this time, he was pushing that person away first.