After the Darkness, the Dawn

Epilogue: Chanyeol

The first day after his parents had died, Chanyeol had woken up late, and briefly, he had forgotten what had happened. He'd panicked when he saw the clock beside his bed flash an angry 10:54 at him, and he'd wondered why his mom hadn't woken him up for school. It wasn't until he stepped outside his bedroom, half dressed in his uniform, thinking up ways to sneak out so his dad wouldn't catch him, and walked in on Chorong sitting dejectedly in the living room, pouring over the contents of their parents' paperwork, mortgage, and business accounts, all spread out on the coffee table before her as she argued on the phone with the insurance company, the subject of which he can no longer recall, and suddenly, he'd remembered. They were gone. Forever. Never would his mom chide him for his dirty clothes or help him bandage his bruises with a gentle hand again, never would his dad tousle him on the head for a good sparring match, excited at his high chances at getting into a university with a good taekwondo team, already boasting about it to anyone who was around to hear.

"Chanyeol," Chorong had greeted him, hanging up quickly on the phone with assurances that she would call back later. "Why are you dressed? I called your school already, they know. You don't have to go." She gets up, walking over to gently take his bookbag from his hand. "You must be hungry," she says as she urges him towards the dinner table, "I'll heat some lunch up."

Chanyeol had stared at the small dinner table, at the two empty seats where his parents used to sit, and he'd been hit with an unknown terror. Never again would he be able to taste his mom's homemade meals or listen to his dad grumble like an old man about the rising interest rate. Never would they be a happy family again. Chanyeol had turned at this thought and ran, out the door and down the stairs, refusing to even acknowledge his sister calling worriedly after him. He'd ran that day, for blocks and blocks, until the streets turned unfamiliar, until his lungs burned and he could barely breathe, until the memories of what had been suffocated away, if only temporarily. And for three years, he didn't stop running, not sure if he ever wanted to go back.

Presently, Chanyeol sits again at that same table, the five of them cramped around as they dig into lunch, Chorong doling out the stew into separate bowls for everyone before she portions the rice while Junmyeon separates the big chunks of meat and vegetables into smaller bite-size pieces for the kids, letting them cool a bit before serving.

"Uncle's crying!" Haeun notices, announcing it worriedly to the table, and Chorong and Junmyeon look up.

"What's wrong?" Chorong asks. "Do you still have some glitter in your eye?"

"No," Chanyeol shakes his head.

"Is it the stew, then? Is something wrong with it?" Junmyeon asks, taking a sip of his to check, but again Chanyeol shakes his head no as he wipes his eyes.

"Does Uncle want chicken?" Haeun offers him, holding up a bite of hers on her fork.

"It's okay. Nothing's wrong, I'm fine," Chanyeol assures them all, patting Haeun gently on the head as he does. His mind is already thinking of tomorrow, of when Namjoo will be here with her and Junmyeon's parents, and they will have to bring up the extra folding table and chairs from downstairs to make room for everyone, the atmosphere no doubt even warmer and livelier than today. Chanyeol smiles. "Just happy to be home."