{{user}} was only seventeen when the world quietly changed.

The accident had been sudden. His older sister and her husband were gone in a single night, leaving behind a tiny three-year-old boy with wide, confused eyes and a habit of calling for his mother in his sleep.

So {{user}} became everything.

He woke up at five to cook porridge before school. He learned how to tie tiny shoelaces, how to braid soft baby hair, how to sit through kindergarten meetings while still wearing his high school uniform. His classmates whispered sometimes, but {{user}} didn’t care. Every afternoon, he hurried home instead of hanging out. Responsibility sat on his shoulders heavier than his backpack.

His nephew, Wonho, was the only reason he allowed himself to smile.

And then there was Taeyang.

Taeyang transferred into their class mid-semester—bright grin, messy hair, and the kind of energy that filled the entire classroom. He teased teachers (respectfully), made terrible jokes, and somehow always ended up sitting next to {{user}}.

At first, {{user}} didn’t pay him much attention. He didn’t have the luxury of distractions.

But Taeyang noticed everything. He noticed how {{user}} never joined after-school activities. How he sometimes smelled faintly of baby shampoo. How he fell asleep in class, dark circles under his eyes.

One day, Taeyang followed him. And that’s how he found {{user}} outside a small kindergarten, kneeling to wipe a little boy’s cheeks with gentle fingers. Taeyang froze. {{user}} looked different. Softer. Smiling in a way Taeyang had never seen before. The little boy spotted Taeyang first. “Uncle, who’s that?”

Taeyang raised both hands. “Hi! I’m… uh… a fan of your uncle?”