book one ❧ [ii]

                                    

                                          
Your work agreed to let you move into a part-time  remote position. Most days you were able to get all your done, early  even. Not only was Hyukjun there, but a memory care aide named Nayoung  came by for an hour three days a week to assist as well.
It  had been a month since you moved into the primary bedroom on the second  floor, the bedroom that used to be your mom and stepdad's. You found  out that they moved their things into the guest room on the first floor  two months ago, when your mom hurt herself on the stairs. It had only  been a skinned knee, but Hyukjun didn't want to risk something worse.
That  night you laid in bed with your laptop open, desperately trying to  finish up a report that was due the next day. Today had been rougher,  your mom needing constant redirection and reorientation, not to mention  the conversation that you had with your stepdad earlier this evening.  Usually after your mom went to sleep, the two of you would watch a movie  or a couple episodes of a show, or just have a drink and chat. It was a  nice, slow, easy part of your day with just the two of you. But this  time as you rooted around the for the fresh tub of ice cream that you  had just bought from the store, and called to him over your shoulder  asking if he wanted a bowl, you saw him waiting for you with papers in  his hand.
One of the errands he'd sent you on  today, in addition to groceries, the post office, and the pharmacy, had  been to an attorney's office. You'd known that, you weren't stupid.  There, you had been handed a large envelope with the law firm's name  embossed on it, and your stepdad's name typed on a label under that. You  didn't inquire as to the contents of the envelope from the  receptionist, nor your stepdad when you delivered it to him upon  returning home. It was none of your business. But at the kitchen table  that night, he showed you the documents that he had drawn up.
Once he passed, you would own his house, the one that you lived in now, as a life estate pur autre vie.  For the life of another. Until your mother passed, you would own his  house, and could stay here and take care of her. Then, once she passed,  the house would go to his sons, your stepbrothers, as he'd always  intended. 
You sighed and deleted the sentence  you'd just written. "Stupid, stupid," you muttered to yourself. Looking  at the time, you let out another sigh and rubbed your face in  exasperation. "I'm never going to fucking finish this."
Setting  the laptop aside, you pushed your covers off yourself and got out of  bed. Keeping your footsteps light, you crept downstairs and into the  kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. After drinking a whole glass  in the kitchen, you refilled it to bring it back up to bedroom with you.  Halfway up the stairs, the sconce on the wall next to your head  flickered on, making you pause. You'd left all the lights off on your  way down. Peering behind the frosted glass cover, you reached your hand  back there and tightened the bulb. The light stopped flickering, and you  looked around at the empty, dark staircase again. Shrugging to  yourself, you finished your journey to your room.
─── * :✧˚ ·♡.
Cutting  up your mom's breakfast into small pieces, you hummed a song that had  been stuck in your head. The sound of something clattering startled your  peaceful reverie, and your head snapped up immediately. You darted  around the kitchen counter to get your eyes on where your mom was  sitting at the kitchen table.
"You okay, Mom?" You asked, eyes searching her for any signs of injury or distress.
"Oh,  I'm fine, sweetie," she reassured you, pointing at a point on the floor  further away from her. You saw that a silver utensil was gleaming up  from the tile. "I dropped my fork, that's all."
"I'll  grab you another one when I bring your food in, don't worry about it,"  you reassured her. "Leave it, I'll pick it up in a sec."
Returning  to the kitchen, you finished cutting her food, then prepared yours and  Hyukjun's plates. Carrying all three of them in, along with your mom's  clean fork, you cocked your head when you saw the fork sitting on the  closest edge of the table to the kitchen. Looking at Hyukjun, who had  joined your mom at the table in the interim, you said, "You didn't have  to pick up the fork, Hyukjun, I was going to grab it."