SEO HANA
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Jiwoo was the best brother-like friend I ever had. We spent most of our school years together—though I have to admit, I never actually called him "brother," no matter how many times he insisted on it. Honestly, he might just cry if I ever did.
He had light brown eyes that always looked warm, and soft black hair that somehow stayed neat no matter what. His smile? Constant. Like he was happy 24/7. He was polite to everyone, especially elders.
He was close to his grandmother. I used to tease him, calling him Grandma's boy, even though I secretly envied that bond.
My own parents were always away on business trips—barely home, barely calling.
But Brother Jiwoo always made sure I never ate alone. His family was warm and welcoming.
He lost his parents ten years ago, and for fifteen years, he lived alone, working part-time jobs to pay his school fees and feed himself. I always wondered how someone who'd gone through so much could still be so kind—to me, to strangers, to everyone.
I often asked him how he stayed kind despite everything.
He'd just give me that same warm smile.
No real answer—just that.
He always brushed it off. I tried to support him as best I could. When he joined the army, he just patted my shoulders and said, "Hana, study well. I'm going on a trip."
As if I wouldn't notice.
Brother Jiwoo wasn't always that military-strong guy with lean muscles, back in our school days, he used to get bullied by a bunch of blockhead classmates. They'd call him names like "poor" or "orphan" and laugh at his worn-out shoes and clothes.
Most days, he came to class bruised and bandaged. I still remember finding him on the school rooftop once, sitting alone, I poked him in the back and he twitched like a startled kid.
His face was covered in cuts and bruises, I looked him straight in the eye.
"What happened, Jiwoo? Did they bully you again."
He just smiled and said, "It's fine. They'll stop eventually."
But they didn't, not for two whole years and he always stopped me from doing anything about it. Maybe he was worried I'd cause trouble… not that I'm scary or anything, I'm just a boxer with a flawless record—zero wins, zero losses.
I couldn't stand watching him take it anymore. So I did what any good sister would:I complained to the teacher. After that, the bullying stopped.
From then on, I told him to call me his guardian.
Ahem. But he never did.
Well... it was more than enough for him to thank me, instead of pulling his usual stunts.
Today, I finally met him again after years. It was fun—even if it was just a short conversation. I'd missed that old-time vibe.
Tomorrow we're finally going out to hang around. I can't wait to irritate him again, hehe. Though I don't even know if that dumbass will actually show up.
I'm graduating next month. I hope Brother Jiwoo comes to watch me graduate. I'd be so happy if he shows up.
I stretched my back and wandered into the kitchen.
Unwashed dishes piled up in the sink.
"Oh man, I wish someone would wash all my freaking dishes."
Raising my thumbs toward them, I muttered,
"Don't worry."
...I'm actually going mad.
I trudged back, filled my water bottle, and flopped onto the sofa with a soft thud. I slowly reached out for my pillow, brushing it with my fingertips, a few itches. I stretched my arms as much as I could, and slammed the pillow onto the sofa—then followed right after it.
I hope he comes tomorrow.
I've got so many stories to tell him.
"Ehh. Weather report's always wrong anyway... whatever."