Episode 3. Question

“Sour!”
At first, I doubted my ears.
However, it was clear from Yondu’s voice and the trembling of her body, which was clearly different from the previous one.
I really don’t like it.
Taken aback by the furious response, I went back to the question I had just asked in my head.
What question did I ask?
“Do you hate it? It’s going to be my family.’
It wasn’t a big question.
Just a second. I feel like I’m going to get really hurt. Why do you hate it so much?
Do you hate living with me so badly in the future?
Swish.
I shook my head and gathered my thoughts.
It was only then that I felt uncomfortable.
No, no matter how much I thought about it, Yondu’s reaction was something strange.
Up until this point, my conversation with Yondu had been okay.
If I wasn’t mistaken, at least I didn’t get the feeling that Yondu hated me to the extreme.
But now, Yondu’s reaction was completely different.
‘.. This isn’t a reaction that hates me.’
Yondu trembled and said to me, ‘Sir!’ I replied.
It seemed more like a fear of something than a rejection of me.
So what are you afraid of?
To figure it out, I needed to remind myself of the question I asked.
That’s how he reacted to my question.
“Do you hate it? It’s going to be my family.’
On second thought, it seems.
Something uncomfortable.
‘Family.’
When I asked what ‘family’ meant, Yondu replied, ‘It’s living in value.’
So I asked without much thought.
Becoming a family and living together, and maybe he didn’t like the idea of becoming a family with me.
But Yondu might have interpreted the meaning of that question differently.
I don’t know if I’m thinking too deeply, but if my thoughts are correct, I might find an answer to this situation.
‘Just until yesterday.’
This child’s ‘family’ was my uncle, Kim Dong-seok.
Judging from the words of relatives and the state of the child, he was probably a wretched person.
Was growing up under such a father’s wing a normal environment for a child? I can’t be sure.
Then I can make one guess.
‘Trauma.’
The response the child showed seemed like trauma, as commonly known.
Anxiety symptoms or rejection reactions manifested for mental reasons.
Perhaps Yondu associated the word ‘family’ I mentioned with his father?
Of course, my guess could be wrong.
Although I muttered about trauma and whatnot, I’m just an incompetent bum, not a psychiatrist.
It might simply be that he really dislikes me.
So, I’m going to check.
“Yondu.”
There was no other way but to ask the child directly.
As I called his name, Yondu hesitated and then replied.
“Yes..”
“You don’t need to be scared for now. I’m not a bad person.”
It felt like I was trying to coax the child with some kind words, but I had no choice.
For now, it was important to reassure the child emotionally.
Fortunately, Yondu nodded slightly.
I spoke in the calmest and gentlest voice I could manage.
“If it’s okay, may I ask why? Why do you dislike becoming a family with me?”
If Yondu responds with ‘I hate it!’ again, then there’s no way around it.
I’ll have to come up with another solution besides living with me.
It’s not my role to live with a child who has a rejection towards me from the beginning.
For the sake of the child, for my sake too.
A little while later, a small voice came from Yondu’s mouth, hidden under his hair.
“.. Scary.”
“Huh?”
“Frightening..”
It wasn’t a response of dislike. It confirmed my expectations.
Yet, I didn’t feel particularly pleased.
Scary. That’s the emotion this child feels from the word ‘family.’
Unconsciously, I bit my lower lip.
Yondu’s answer didn’t stop there.
“It hurts.. Family. It hurts…”
While saying so, Yondu walked closer with small steps and hugged my leg.
Once again, whether he was sobbing or trembling, my leg felt it. I could hear him whimpering.
I couldn’t see his expression, but I felt like I could guess what kind of expression Yondu was making.
There were still many things I was curious about. But trying to extract more answers here would only trigger his trauma.
I just stroked the child’s head and said,
“Don’t be scared, Yondu. There won’t be anything scary or painful in the future.”
It’s strange.
It might be an irresponsible statement.
No, it’s highly probable that it’s an irresponsible statement, but I had no choice but to say it.
Seems like I’ve developed a sense of responsibility that doesn’t match my subject.
To this child, who’s trembling and hugging my leg without even knowing his face.
“It’s Yondu. May I ask you one last question?”
“Ugh. yes..”
“You don’t hate me, do you?”
“Silchi..”
“.. Huh?”
No, not really.
Drawing a line here again?
Yondu looked up at me with an anxious look on his face.
“I don’t know!! Joa!”
“Haha.”
“…”

“Hahaha! Thanks, Yondu!”
I burst into laughter as if overcome with joy.
I felt like I knew something.
The rollercoaster of emotions with just one action and response from the child, typical of a parent’s heart.
… Is it already too much to handle?

As soon as I entered the house, the bleak household environment caught my eye.
Even though it’s my own home and I’m used to it, it feels like a pigsty.
A few sets of clothes are scattered around, yesterday’s pot of noodles sits on the table, untouched.
“Haha, sorry. If I knew you were coming, I would have cleaned up, Yondu.”
I started tidying up in a hurry.
I tossed the scattered clothes on, and the pot I quickly put in the sink.
The house is small, so in a short while, it looks quite clean on the surface.
But why does the house feel so cramped today? Oh, it’s because Yondu’s here!
With just one small girl standing, it feels like the house has shrunk by a third.
Well, to begin with, it’s a small one-room apartment with a living room connected to the kitchen and a tiny bathroom attached.
It’s cozy enough for me to live alone, but it’s ridiculously small for two people to live together.
“You can sit comfortably, Yondu.”
“Yes… but…”
“But?”
“What’s this…?”
Yondu pointed with a small finger at something.
I answered right away.
“That’s a pull-up bar.”
“Pull-up…?”
Her pronunciation was cute, and it made me chuckle.
She was pointing at a piece of exercise equipment used for chin-ups and other exercises.
I ambitiously bought it to get rid of my anchovy physique, but it’s been taking up space for years.
It’s hard to dispose of, and its unnecessarily large size ruins my living environment.
‘Ridiculous.’
Now I’m blaming the pull-up bar.
Just thinking about it makes me embarrassed again.
I should answer Yondu quickly.
“Yeah, it’s a pull-up bar. I..brother.”
I stopped myself from speaking.
The word “brother” slipped out unconsciously.
But am I really Yondu’s brother? There’s a twenty-year age gap.
Honestly, with a twenty-year gap, I could be her dad.
‘But I can’t keep speaking awkwardly like this forever.’
There was a need to establish a title.
But it’s pointless to make her call me dad.
First of all, it felt awkward for me.
Even if it’s a special situation, I’m only twenty-five, calling me dad is too much.
Besides, what worries me the most is the presence of Yondu’s father, my uncle.
I’m not sure about the details, but it’s certain he wasn’t a good father.
‘So Yondu might have resistance to the word dad.’
I wanted to talk without causing too much hurt.
Without realizing it, I asked Yondu, who was crouching down.
“What would you like to call me, Yondu?”
“…”
Did she not understand the question? There was no answer.
I clumsily continued speaking, one finger at a time.
“Well, you know, there’s that. Brother, or you can call me uncle. There’s also dad.”
Oops. Did I just say dad for no reason?
Even though I was thinking about it just now, I feel like such a fool.
I still feel quite immature to be a parent.
Amid self-blame, Yondu’s voice reached me.
“Can I… call you dad?”
“Huh?”
“Call you… dad?”
It was a question with a difficult-to-understand meaning.