It started from the time his father left home.

Only his mother and he were left in the house. At a young age, he didn't fully understand why his father 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 very early on, he thought: at least he should never leave. He must never leave his mother alone.

In that way, 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 with a smile 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 before himself. Even if a single cup broke, he checked the person's hands before the shards, and he only felt at peace once he 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 hospital visit. 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 kept increasing. 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 reply with a smile.

I am doing my thing.

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

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

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

That night, his childhood friend visited. And not long after, they walked through the front door with their luggage. Because they felt they couldn't leave him alone—the one who went to the hospital and worked every day, only to return to an empty house.

At first, they said it would be temporary. Only until his mother was discharged. That's 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 made food, checked the fridge, and bought whatever was needed. Then he left small notes on the refrigerator.

「Eat before you go.」

「It's supposed to 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 always wrote such things, Yunseul would give a half-hearted answer.

If I don't write it down, you'll forget.

Yet the next day, there would be a new note. On days he came back 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 startled expression; at a mention of pain, he brought medicine instead of just asking if they were okay. If he saw them crying, he sat beside them without asking why. He acted as if nothing were wrong.

No, it seemed he believed that if he acted like nothing was wrong, things really would become okay.

Every day after work, Yunseul went to the hospital. In front of his mother, he acted even more like nothing was wrong.

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

When his mother said she was sorry.

What is there to be sorry for?

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

Then who else would come?

He said. To Yunseul, it was only natural. He was her 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 gods. But after his mother went into the hospital, he looked at the same spot every night and made the same wish.

Please let her be discharged, please let her return home. He said he was fine with suffering more in her place. He could work more, he could lose sleep, he could give up everything he wanted to do.

So please, just send his mother back home.

That was his only wish.

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

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 by her side longer, if I just do a little better... will she be able to come back?

But in the end, his mother never returned. And Yunseul couldn't tell his childhood friend. Because the moment he spoke the words that she had died, he felt 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, and 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.

But 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 thank you for everything. He said 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 went back to their own home. And they reached out.

「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.

He rang the doorbell. Once, twice. Three times. For a long while, there was no answer. Just as he was debating whether to turn back, a faint sound came from inside the door. And slowly, the door opened.

The childhood friend couldn't say a word. It was because Yunseul had changed so much.

The hair he had dyed bright had black roots grown out long, 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 just to avoid looking easy to anyone... now stood there like someone who couldn't protect anything. The inside of the house visible through the crack in the door was the same. Unorganized clothes, piled-up trash, windows that hadn't been opened for a long time.

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

Why are you here?

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

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

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

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 breaking down 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...

The tears he had been holding back finally 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 away his tears.

I couldn't even protect my mom.

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

I don't have the confidence to protect you too, not anymore. Go back.

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