"Right there," Sung-Hoon declared, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive, sunlit room as the workers carefully lowered a stack of boxes onto the aged wooden floor. Dust particles danced in the golden rays sneaking through the cobwebbed windows, creating a warm, ethereal ambiance that enveloped the space now brimming with the promise of a fresh start. "There," he continued enthusiastically, pointing to a stark, unadorned wall that stood like a blank canvas. "That will be the spot for our sign. 'Strawberry Hanok.'" A broad smile spread across Sung-Hoon's face, a culmination of years filled with dreams and determination finally coming to fruition, all alongside his best friend, Yeon-Jun.
Sung-Hoon turned, amusedly observing Yeon-Jun as he traced patterns on the window pane with his finger, his mind evidently preoccupied with weighing the extent of the cleaning task ahead of them.
"So," Sung-Hoon approached him, both curiosity and excitement bubbling within him, "what do you think?" However, Yeon-Jun's face lacked the enthusiasm he had anticipated. With a heavy sigh, he responded, even his sign language conveying a hint of exasperation, "How do you think we're going to tackle all of this mess?" Sung-Hoon chuckled softly at his friend's adorably pouting expression. Grabbing a worn rag, he demonstrated by wiping down the dusty glass, a playful grin illuminating his face as he handed the rag over to Yeon-Jun. "Like this," he said, his enthusiasm infectious.
With a sudden surge of spontaneity, Sung-Hoon playfully grabbed Yeon-Jun by the shoulders and steered him toward the box containing the long-awaited sign. He handed it off to Yeon-Jun before sprinting back to the blank wall he had been eyeing moments earlier. "Alright, creative director," he called out, his voice laced with a playful challenge, "how high should we hang our proud new sign?"
Yeon-Jun contemplated the wall for a moment, cradling the sign in his arms as he surveyed the space. Then, without hesitation, he redirected his gaze towards the wall adjacent to the one Sung-Hoon had envisioned. "I think it should go here," he signed, his movements fluid.
But as Sung-Hoon followed his friend's gaze, he felt a wave of disappointment wash over him, the initial excitement dimming slightly. Yeon-Jun, noticing the change in his expression, gently offered the sign back and pointed once more toward the original wall. "You should put it wherever you want," he signed, his eyes conveying sincerity. "It's your café after all." With that gesture, the spark returned to Sung-Hoon's eyes, reigniting the flame of inspiration.
"You see, I had a vision for this place," he began enthusiastically, his eyes widening with fervor. "This goes here, that goes there…" Sung-Hoon launched into an animated description of how he had meticulously dreamt up the layout of his café over the years, and to his delight, Yeon-Jun listened intently, his own smile growing as he happily engaged in the brainstorming session.
As the night settled over the bustling streets of Seoul, the two friends finally had the opportunity to explore their new apartment, perched above the cozy coffee shop they had come to love. The room was sparse and echoed with emptiness, its cold hardwood floor offering little comfort, yet for Sung-Hoon, it represented a significant milestone. "Do you know how hard it is to own a building in Seoul?" he mused, folding his legs beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the floor. In that moment, he felt a profound weight of gratitude—not everyone had the luxury of claiming a space as their own, a sanctuary amidst the sea of concrete and dreams surrounding them. "I wish Dad were here to witness this moment with us. What do you think?"
Yeon-Jun, ever the introspective one, remained silent for a beat longer, his gaze fixated on a cherished photograph he always carried in his wallet. It was a faded snapshot of Sung-Hoon's father on the day he had made a choice that would change their lives forever. That day, a life that seemed to be at a standstill burst into vibrant color; an act of kindness that was offered without any expectation of return. For Yeon-Jun, being part of this journey meant honoring that kindness, even if it required him to let go of his own aspirations.
"Thank you for doing this for me," Sung-Hoon said, a hint of vulnerability traveling through his voice as he reclined against the barren floor, staring up at the ceiling that echoed his hopes and dreams.
"You're going to catch a cold," a cold, almost robotic voice echoed through the empty apartment, the phrase being read aloud from Yeon-Jun's phone. The digital intrusion broke the reverie, but it was quickly overshadowed by Yeon-Jun's warm smile as he too eased himself onto the floor beside his friend. Gently, he offered his arm, inviting Sung-Hoon to rest his head upon it.
Together, they succumbed to the embrace of sleep, the dim light from the nearby street lamp flickering softly over them, heralding the dawn of a new day. As slumber filled the space between them, it marked the first day of their fresh start in the vibrant city life—a testament to resilience, friendship, and the promise of new beginnings.