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The thing is, Chungwoo does ask again. Of course he does.
"Do you know him?"
"Who? Ryu Gunwoo?" His mother hums over the pile of dishes in the sink, gloved hands already reaching deep into the basin. Armoured warrior ready to do battle against an unrelenting enemy. Chungwoo will have her attention for just about another 30 seconds before the water will run and the clanging starts.
He delays this by bringing over another pile of dishes from their dinner. They do have a dishwasher now, but his mother swears it doesn't do as good of a job as fifteen minutes of scrubbing with a sponge and some soap.
"Thank you dear!" She holds out the sponge for him to squeeze dish soap onto, loading her weapon. "I can't say that I know him very well. I've only seen him a few times at the big gatherings. I did meet him when your father was introducing me to the family." Chungwoo hands her the dirty serving spoons. "He was such a cute little baby, I remember. He had a serious face, but those round cheeks! Adorable. Huge eyes, and a little nose, just like you."
Chungwoo snorts, dodging his mother's soapy finger as she tries to tap said nose.
"Your father will likely know more, darling," she says, shooing him away when he tries to help.
His father.
As long as Chungwoo had known him, his father had always been quiet and unexpressive. Even during the aftermath of that accident when Chungwoo was young, his father had calmly dealt with the hospital staff and concerned relatives, even as his mother had wept over his hospital bed.
So it surprises Chungwoo a little when he mentions Ryu Gunwoo's name and his father's head tilts, eyes heavy, like he's trying to remember the lyrics of an old, sad, song.
"He was a good kid. Good at studying. Last I heard he wanted to be a civil servant."
"When was that?"
A hum. "He must have been in his second or third year of high school, I suppose. You would have been in middle school then."
Chungwoo tries hard to think back to any memories of that time in his life. It's difficult to remember anything beyond the endless loops of school, archery practice, friends, and homework.
The blankness must show on his face because his father waves it away.
"You wouldn't have remembered. I just heard it from an elder. They checked on him every once in a while since his parents…"
His father sighs, the sound deep and cavernous as if it came from a mountain. Heavy.
"Well, he never came back for any of the reunions after they passed, and the times before that he mostly sat in the corner with a book while the other kids chased each other around. You were also so young then, it's not surprising that he didn't really make an impression on you."
It's true, Chungwoo had been young enough during those big reunions to have mostly stuck to his mother's side. He remembers once being pulled by the wrist by an older cousin into a game of hide and seek, which quickly grew into something more like an epic quest in the maze-like interior of the main clan house. But the serious faced boy that Park Moondae had pointed out in that video last Chuseok doesn't look like the type who would have joined in, crouching behind the big doenjang onggi, shoulder to shoulder with Chungwoo, and giggling at nothing.
But his father pulls out a picture from the old family album and there is someone there that looks like a younger him, down to the stubborn cowlick that his mother always fought to flatten for formal occasions. He never really understood until now when his grandparents would pinch his cheeks and say that he looked just like his father, but it's so obvious in this photo.
And standing there, right beside his father as a child, is another boy. Older by maybe two or three years, skinned knees and a muddy shirt, a face caught mid-laugh.
He looks just like that boy Moondae found in the video.
"My cousin," his father says. "Not sure how we're actually related, probably twice or three times removed at least. But a few of us were sometimes sent back to the clan house during the summers to give our parents a break, and we played together since we were the only boys for a bit."
"And that's Ryu Gunwoo's…"
"Yes. That's Ryu Gunwoo's father. Jeongho-hyung."
Jeongho-hyung. His father had called Ryu Gunwoo's father hyung.
But more than that, standing side by side that way, the two of them—
"You look like brothers."
His father laughs a little. "We did look alike back then, less so as we both grew. Jeongho-hyung was on the basketball team in high school and he got tall. But you can still tell we were related."
A finger traces the edge of the photograph, the tip of a nail catching slightly at one corner.
"I think… I think that may be why he never came back. We Ryu clan folks have too similar features. Like clones, your mother said once. Copy and paste," he shakes his head. "Looking at us… Well, I can understand why Ryu Gunwoo wouldn't have wanted to spend too much time here."
A quiet child, good at studying. His father's cousin's son.
Chungwoo wonders what it would've been like to grow up calling Ryu Gunwoo "hyung". Maybe they would have played hide and seek with the younger children, or sought refuge in a side room from the aunts and uncles, sitting quietly. Maybe Chungwoo could have asked him what he was reading, and Gunwoo would show him, at first wary and reluctant, and then, maybe if Chungwoo shows interest, Gunwoo would open the book on a table so they'd both be able to read together.
It would be a photography book, wouldnt it? Or maybe a mystery. Park Moon- Ryu Gunwoo's skill at either doesn't seem like it was something he attained recently, most likely hobbies from when he was young. Maybe he would have pulled out his camera and shown Chungwoo a few shots. Then they could have roamed about the countryside taking pictures. There's not much around, but maybe they could've taken a picture together, like the one Chungwoo's father has with his Jeongho-hyung.
Or maybe they would've both sat quietly in the corner in awkward silence. Chungwoo is his father's son. Maybe Ryu Gunwoo would have avoided looking directly at him then too, just like that time during the summer package. They wouldn't have been old enough to talk it out over drinks though, so perhaps Chungwoo wouldn't know any more about his cousin, the oldest of their "woo" generation, than he does now.
And his father…
"Why didn't I know about Uncle Jeongho?" Chungwoo asks, his head tilting without any accusation.
And yet still his father turns away, eyes guilty. "We weren't exactly close after we both went back home at the end of the summer. And then…"
His father inhales roughly and reaches out for Chungwoo's hands. He does this sometimes, when there's something he wants to say to Chungwoo but it's a little difficult. Chungwoo reaches back, looking at his father's face carefully.
For the first time in his life, Chungwoo thinks that his father looks old. It startles him, seeing weariness pull at the corners of his eyes, the lines and creases there.
"I don't regret it at all," his father starts, squeezing his hands gently. "You needed me. Your mother was handling everything with the family and the hospital. She's always been fierce, your eomma. A fighter. But I knew she couldn't handle it alone. I needed to be with you and your mother after your accident, and that's where I was. But…"
Chungwoo understands. "But Ryu Gunwoo's parents."
His father nods grimly. "Jeongho-hyung and his wife… I don't know why they called Ryu Gunwoo over after the fire when so many of us could've done it instead. But he was only a kid then, not much older than you were. He had to come over to Gangwon-do by himself to identify his parents, and I-" His father shakes his head, thumbs rubbing over the back Chungwoo's hands. "I don't regret being with you, but Ryu Gunwoo needed an adult too and no one was there for him."
Chungwoo squeezes down on his father's hands. "Abeoji, that's not your fault."
"No, but I still feel sorry anyway. The thought of you being that small and alone…" another squeeze, "I know Jeongho-hyung would've hated his son being put in that position."
Chungwoo can do nothing else but nod. Because he would've hated that too. He still remembers the late night rush to Kim Raebin's hometown, the dark mountain roads, the tense silence. Park Moondae gripping his phone in a white-knuckled fist, refusing to rest until they've heard that Kim Raebin's grandmother was stable.
They'd had a car then and Chungwoo's driver's license. A middle schooler would've probably had to take a train, a bus.
The thought of that solemn-faced boy from the video sitting at the back of a bus alone hugging a backpack to his chest breaks Chungwoo's heart.
Park Moondae had also lost his parents in middle school just like Ryu Gunwoo. Chungwoo has no proof that his aversion to fire, his reaction to traffic accidents, are anything but coincidences. But Chungwoo's instincts has never led him astray and he accepts what his gut already knows is true.
And while this isn't something that would affect TeStar in a professional capacity, it also doesn't feel right to him to continue quietly ignoring the number of so-called coincidences piling up.
He doesn't want Park Moondae to have to continue shouldering things alone.
"You were looking for him, weren't you?" his father asks.
Chungwoo nods. He'd called around to a lot of his older relatives about his prodigal cousin and no doubt his father would have heard of his efforts.
"When you find him, could you bring him back home?" his father says. He traces the side of the yellowing photo again, the only trace remaining of his and his cousin's laughter on that bright summer day. "I have some stories that I think he'd enjoy listening to."
Ryu Jeongho's son Ryu Gunwoo has been alone without a family for a long time. And Ryu Chungwoo is his father's son.
"I will," Chungwoo says, and plans a mountain hike.