[EDITING]
When Jeon Jeongguk's sister gets engaged to his friend's brother, almost everything changes.
Desperate to hold onto a fragile friendship, Jeongguk is willing to get himself into sticky situations--even to the point of ruining his sister's...
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Room With a View
From the outside, the house looked small. The front door was a dark wood, and it appeared to be newly painted. A big metal knocker was in the centre of the door; a lion with a ring attached to its mouth. Freshly bloomed flowers surrounded the main entrance – their colours vibrant and they gave off an ambiance that made it appear as if a drop of colour had spilled onto a dull canvas of browns and greys. The walls were yellow, and the paint was peeling off in certain places, it looked old but warm and friendly, like it wanted you to come in for tea.
It was smaller than he thought would fit seven people (and a dog). They were all huddled in front of it, with all of their bags around their feet and on their backs. It had been a nice trip. He had sat next to his mother as she knitted and had listened to some music.
They were six. Three Jeons and three Kims, as Taehyung's dad was there too. But he wasn't joining them at the house as he had important work to do, so he needed peace and quiet – he was staying alone. Mrs Kim was not joining them right away, which did not surprise Jeongguk. She would arrive later. Who knew when that would be? Jeongguk thought it was a little peculiar how little she paid mind of her son's wedding, but apparently, she was paying for a big part of it, so maybe that made up for it. Perhaps if Mr Kim wasn't here, she would be joining them sooner. The two did not really like each other.
So, they would be seven inside the house. Three Jeons, the Kim brothers and their hosts: Mr and Mrs Jung. Eight if you counted Yeontan, whom Taehyung had brought with him.
As he stared at the house, he couldn't help but feel he'd been here before. The dark brown door and yellow stone walls, the French windows, and the pretty flowers; he had a feeling he'd walked around here, touched the plants and leaned against the walls. But he couldn't possibly remember it, how old had he been when he'd last been here? Three years old? Or was it four?
Perhaps it was the expecting smile of his mother, the glitter behind her eyes as she watched the door expectantly, almost as if waiting for a gift to pop out like a jack in the box. And perhaps it was his own self, wanting to remember the time he had spent with his father, by the sea, by the pool – didn't they have a pool? or in the kitchen, or on the balcony. Perhaps he longed so much for the past that his mind tricked him into remembering, just because he desired it.
The door opened.
Out came a middle-aged woman, around his mother's age. She was small, with kind eyes, a round face, her cheeks rosy. Her hair was short, it barely reached her neck and gave her a sophisticated feel. When she saw the group standing before her she gave them all a quick look, one by one and smiled fondly.
"Why aren't you a colourful lot?" she said and opened her arms. Her eyes glazed across the group and settled on his mother. She smiled even brighter. "Oh, Yuri darling. You look splendid!"
