Spring that day was too bright, almost unbearably beautiful. The air smelled of freshness, sun, and flowers, and cherry blossoms slowly fell along the park alley — light, pink, as if woven from breath.
Min ran ahead, clumsily but confidently, clutching a small branch he had found under a tree. His laughter rolled along the path, blending with the chirping of birds and the hum of distant voices. Do-yun walked slightly behind, watching to make sure he didn't fall. In one hand, the baby's light jacket, in the other, a glass of water. Everything was ordinary, everything was calm, and it was precisely in this simplicity that true happiness was felt.
Seungho walked beside him. He barely spoke, but his gaze was constantly on both of them — as if he was trying to memorize every movement, every ray of light touching their faces.
— He's growing fast, — Do-yun noted, looking at his son. — It seems like just yesterday he couldn't stand on his feet.
— And today he's already commanding us, — Seungho chuckled.
— Do you think that will pass?
— No, — he replied with a slight smile. — The stubbornness comes from you.
Do-yun snorted but didn't argue. Petals rained down from the trees, touching their hair, shoulders, and clothes. Min turned around, saw them, giggled, and stretched out his hands, as if trying to catch the air.
— Aba! Apa! Look! — he cried out clearly, pointing at the rain of flowers.
Do-yun smiled, raising his head to the sky.
— Looks like someone up there threw a party.
— Maybe it's truly worth celebrating, — Seungho said.
— What exactly?
— All of this. — He swept his hand through the air, as if trying to outline the world around them. — That we are here. That we are breathing. That he's laughing.
Do-yun looked at him more closely. There was that very peace in Seungho's eyes that hadn't been there before — not false, not feigned. Genuine.
They reached the gazebo where the alley ended and stopped. Min was engrossed in a pile of petals, playing a few steps away from them, under their watchful eyes. Do-yun was about to say something — about the weather, about the child's jacket — but Seungho suddenly touched his hand. His fingers were warm, trembling slightly. He didn't let go. He just stood there, looking at him — too seriously for such a quiet day.
— What's wrong? — Do-yun asked.
Seungho exhaled.
— Nothing. Just… there's something I should have done earlier.
— Earlier?
— Much earlier. — He smiled, a little awkwardly. — When everything was falling apart. When I thought I was protecting you, but in reality, I was hiding.
Do-yun frowned, not understanding, but his heart clenched for some reason.
— Seungho…
— Wait.
He let go of his hand, and the next moment — he knelt down on one knee. The world seemed to stop. Even the wind died down. Only the petals continued to fall, gently swirling between them. Do-yun froze, unable to believe he was actually seeing this.
— You… what are you doing?
— Correcting something I should have done a long time ago.
Seungho pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. Simply, without any theatrics.
— Everything we had — fear, blood, fire — we went through together. — He looked up, and there was neither doubt nor solemnity in his gaze — only sincerity. — Now I want to go through what comes next. Without war. Without masks. With you.
Do-yun couldn't answer immediately. His throat seized up; his breathing became ragged. Min, as if sensing that something special was happening, stopped and looked at them, clapping his hands.
Seungho quietly added:
— I'm not asking for promises. Just your consent to walk beside me.
Do-yun exhaled and stepped closer.
— Fool, — he whispered. — Have I ever walked behind you?
He knelt down beside him, covering his hand with his own.
— I agree, — he said. — I have been for a long time. You just didn't ask.
Seungho laughed, briefly, with relief.
— Then I made it in time after all.
He opened the box — a simple ring gleamed inside, thin, without a stone, but with the words "in one breath" engraved inside. Do-yun couldn't suppress a smile. Seungho slipped the ring onto his finger. All around — cherry petals, sun, light, a child's laughter. And in that moment, everything felt so right that it no longer required words or explanations.
Do-yun reached out and kissed him. The kiss was light, but everything was in it: promise, peace, home. Min laughed again, and one of the petals fell right onto their intertwined hands.
Seungho whispered, without pulling away:
— Do you know what the strangest thing is?
— What?
— I'm not afraid of the future anymore.
Do-yun smiled.
— Because now it's not an enemy. It's our home.
And the wind stirred the branches again, lifting pink petals into the air, like a blessing. They stood in the middle of this spring rain, under a dome of light and the scent of flowers, and the world, finally, became what they had once been afraid to dream of.