Eun Ha’s POV:
With each step, the heat of the parking lot seed to rise, the sun's glare reflecting harshly against the multitude of cars that stretched out before them.
Yeong Gu was pacing back and forth in front of their parked sedan, the movent almost rhythmic. Eun Ha watched her husband, recognizing his nervous tic—a symptom of his deep investnt in Jae-il's success at the tryouts.
For Yeong Gu, this day held an almost existential importance for their family, as if the entire Cha family was riding on Jae-il's tiny shoulders, a taphorical burden far too heavy for a child. Their household was wealthy enough; they weren’t exactly pinning their future livelihood to Jae-il's success, but they certainly saw him as soone to be proud of.
And with his talent, they should. He's just one of those once-in-a-lifeti children, even in Eun Ha's limited experience as a parent.
But in Eun Ha's view, football wasn't about the glitz and the fa. Sure, there was money, and glory, but that wasn’t what mattered most. To her, football was a taphor for Jae-il's potential in whatever he chose to do.
It was his ambition, his drive to improve, to seek a better future—not just in sports but in every facet of his young, burgeoning life—that made football such a significant symbol for the family. After all, neither Eun Ha or her husband, Yeong Gu, would've ever gotten into football if it wasn’t for Jae-il.
Personally, she still wasn't into it, but her son certainly was. And so, in turn, was everyone around him.
Glancing at her daughters, Mia was predictably engrossed in an intense conversation, gesturing wildly with her hands before breaking into a mischievous grin and putting Jae-il in a headlock of sorts, sothing that looked halfway like a hug and an actual restraint. Su Ah, as always, was stoic in her participation, listening, offering occasional input but largely content to not partake in their activities.
As the trio engaged in their antics, a fondness touched Eun Ha’s lips. She cherished these little monts.
Yeong Gu, as he expertly drove through the city, glanced at Jae-il through the rearview mirror. "So Jae-il..." he started, his voice a mix of pride and a barely contained excitent. "Tell us. How was it?" This was a man ready to erupt into a full-blown celebratory dance in the confines of the vehicle if the answer aligned with his hopes.
"It was okay." Ca the slightly nonchalant response from Jae-il. A little disappointing at his understatent, to be honest. They had expected him to be more excited, to be jumping on his seat, or bouncing around, but their boy was as poised as always.
Eun Ha caught his gaze in the mirror.
"That’s great." Yeong Gu responded with palpable pride, despite his attempt at restraint.
"We should celebrate!" Eun Ha interjected, her enthusiasm finally bursting.
Mia imdiately seized the idea and ran with it. "I want fried chicken and cake!" Her voice was almost a squeal.
"Fried chicken and cake, please." Su Ah added softly.
"Girls, girls... Let Jae-il choose. This is his day, right?" Yeong Gu gently intervened.
Jae-il rely shrugged. "I'm fine with anything. Fried chicken and cake sounds good." He said.
"That's my lil bro!" Mia responded with her usual excitent, leaning over him. He gently pushed her face aside with his free palm.
"Unnie! Please leave him alone!"
"Mia, don't make your brother's head fall off, okay? We kinda need him." Yeong Gu chid in with a slight chuckle. “How is he going to get those sponsorships with an injured spine?”
Eun Ha chuckled at Yeong Gu’s joke. A bit too much for her husband’s sense of humor, to be honest. And her laughter only served to fuel Yeong Gu's enthusiasm. As the rrint inside the vehicle grew, Eun Ha thought that nothing, nothing, could ever ruin such a perfect family mont.
xXx
Mia's POV:
Dad had gone above and beyond for dinner. It was enough to even make the usually quiet Su Ah break into a smile and let herself go a little. Not to ntion the number of plates of chicken that Mia consud.
And, as the night drew to a close, everyone retreated to their respective corners.
Everyone but Jae-il.
She found him sitting in the living room, watching TV. An ongoing football match; his eyes were so intense that she managed to sneak behind him, snake her arms around him, and utter a soft 'boo' in his ears. She chuckled halfway through, expecting her little brother to jump, to yelp in surprise.
Yet, he remained calm.
The faintest flicker in his eyes indicated recognition, not alarm, and a subtle relaxation of his muscles followed her presence rather than the tensing one would anticipate at being suddenly grabbed from behind. What followed, however, wasn’t his usual reprimand or chiding, it was a soft chuckle and a gentle tug on one of her arms still coiled around him.
"Noona, go to sleep already. I'm gonna finish watching this."
In her world of unshakeable convictions, there had been a fundantal, albeit unspoken rule: her brother—her only true rival, her comrade in a shared world of mischief and laughter, wasn't supposed to grow up.
Not so fast.
Not faster than her, at the very least. This was new and different to what she had grown used to, but for so inexplicable reason, Mia didn’t hate it.
She released her grip. A small smile, as she stepped around and plopped down next to him on the couch, taking up a significant amount of space and not really sorry about it. "Don't wanna." With a defiant smirk, she draped herself over his legs, her head nestled comfortably.
"Why not?"
"You know, being awake, being cool. Stuff." She quipped with her usual sass and confidence.
"Right. So cool."
"What's so special about football, anyway?" She redirected the conversation as she turned to look at the match.
"You've asked the sa thing before."
"Have I?" Her tone feigned ignorance.
"You have."
"Really? Well, what's wrong with asking it twice?"
He exhaled softly, a brief, patient pause hanging before answering. "There's strategy, precision, athleticism..." He trailed off.
"Strategy? Like what? Kicking the ball into a net?" She cut in, a teasing grin stretching across her features. He arched an eyebrow, his expression a mirror of mild exasperation. "I can kick a ball too, y'know."
"Strategy, yes, but it's not just about kicking the ball. You have to be clever, move in ways that your opposition wouldn't expect, exploit their mistakes. It's not as easy as you're trying to make it sound."
"Sure it's not." She dismissed, her grin undiminished.
He knew she was simply ssing with him, but that's how it had been between them for quite so ti now.
She sighed, shifting and nuzzling deeper into the pillow that was her brother's lap.
He stilled, tearing his eyes away from the ga to look down at her. He seed... weirded out, for so reason.
Mia couldn't understand why he was making that expression.
Then the first half of the ga ended, and an advertisent break comnced. A very beautiful blonde Unnie was displaying an expensive shampoo. There was a lot of exposed skin involved, even as the young woman's wavy blonde fluttered in a cinematic way in a wind machine's gale.
She then applied the product on her head and began shampooing. 'Weird.' Mia concluded, wondering why the hell did anyone think this was the most effective thod for selling a shampoo brand. She had already forgotten about it the mont it went away from her screen.
However, Jae-il's eyes seed to be more interested in that woman than her.
Then it got Mia thinking. "Do you like blondes, Jae-il?" Mia asked, her curiosity piqued.
"......"
Jae-il went uncharacteristically silent for a bit. Then...
"Why are you asking that?" He queried back.
"I'm curious, is all." She smiled.
His look grew increasingly weird, and she didn't like it one bit. However, after a drawn-out sigh, he composed himself. "I'm not sure about what I like, to be perfectly honest. I just… haven’t given it much thought." His gaze, typically so direct, wandered.
A knowing smile stretched across her face. "Don't be like that. Tell ." The mischievous twinkle in her eyes matched her tone as she shifted to prop her chin up with one hand.
He shrugged. "I guess blondes have their appeal, sure."
Mia’s fingers found their way to her dark, silken hair. "So not dark hair, then?" Her tone held the barest hint of a challenge.
"No, that works too. It's a look, for sure." His response was asured.
"Well, then what is it? Short or long?" Her line of questioning continued.
"Length is irrelevant." Jae-il said simply.
"Irrelevant, is it?" She leaned in slightly. "How about height? Taller, shorter?"
"Doesn't really matter."
"No preferences? That's surprising."
"I have preferences. It just depends on who it is."
"You don’t say? Then... body types. What are you into?"
"Again, depends on who it is." His patience was clearly waning. "Noona..."
"Huh?"
"It's late." He pointed out, nodding towards the digital clock at the far end of the room which read 9.55pm.
"Mhmm..." She agreed without any actual intention of moving.
"Go to sleep." His command, laced with brotherly authority.
As if that would work on her.
"Okay, I'll sleep here." She declared. There was a stubborn set to her chin that promised this would be a battle of wills. "I'll keep you company."
"Oh, would you look at that? I'm so tired. Must've been all the football. Think I'm off to bed." With a yawn that was far too dramatic, he reached out and ruffled her hair, ssing up her neat bun. Then he slipped out from beneath her.
She puffed up indignantly, "Yah! Co back here!" But it was a token protest as he vanished around the corner.
"Night!" He called out.
"Night!" She grumbled back, her annoyance palpable as she rolled over. She glanced back at the TV. The comrcial was long gone, and now it was so kind of detergent that cleaned better and whiter. Still... "Blondes, huh?"
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