Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started with silence.

Too much silence. In fact, something Hyunjin had learned to fear in a house with the twins.

She’d been folding laundry in the living room, humming to herself, when it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn’t hear the usual thumping of little feet, the squeals of “mine!” and “no, mine!” or the suspicious sound of toys being tossed down the staircase.

She froze, her hands stilling on a neatly folded shirt. “Uhm …Jiji? Jinjin?” she called, her voice carrying down the hall.

No answer.

Not even a giggle.

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “No. This is not good,” she muttered, abandoning the pile and heading toward the bedrooms, and finally to the art room where she usually kept her sketchbooks and paints locked away.

The door was ajar.

She pushed it open and gasped.

There they were, her twin whirlwinds, standing in front of the biggest, brightest mess Hyunjin had seen in her life.

Jihan had one of her paintbrushes gripped backward like a spear, proudly dragging fat blue streaks across the pale beige wall. Beside him, Hyejin crouched with her little tongue poking out in concentration as she slapped her tiny palm into red paint and pressed it right next to Jihan’s masterpiece.

The wall was already covered in rainbow swirls, stick figures with too many legs, blobs that looked suspiciously like monsters, and random streaks of color shooting in all directions.

Hyunjin’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. God.”

Two guilty faces spun around to look at her.

Well, not exactly guilty. More like… gleeful.

“Mama! Look!” Hyejin squealed, showing her bright red handprint. “It’s meee!”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Jihan puffed his little chest out, holding the dripping brush. “Dragon!” he announced proudly, pointing at a green-and-yellow mess that climbed halfway up the wall.

Hyunjin pressed her hand against her forehead and shook her head. “You two…”

That was when Jisung arrived, drawn by the noise. He leaned into the room, still holding a screwdriver from fixing something in the garage, and blinked at the scene.

“What—” He cut himself off and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, they killed the wall!”

“This is not funny!” Hyunjin snapped, though her lips twitched, because how could she stay mad when her children looked so proud of their... ahm... artwork?

“Look at them,” Jisung said, crouching down next to the twins, and he ruffled their hair. “That’s talent right there.”

The twins squealed, delighted at their father’s approval. Jihan dipped the brush back into the paint pot, flinging little droplets everywhere.

“Sung!” Hyunjin exclaimed. “Don’t encourage them— this wall is ruined!”

But Jisung only grinned wider. “Ruined? Babe, this is modern art. And—” he tapped his chin dramatically, “—my kids clearly inherited it from their mother.”

Hyunjin stared at the splattered, chaotic wall again, her exasperation softening just a little. Underneath the mess, she could see their joy. Pure, unfiltered joy, and maybe a little piece of herself in it too.

And that was the exact moment she knew there was no way they were repainting that wall.

The paint wasn’t even dry when the front door swung open.

We’re here!” Minhee’s voice floated in, cheerful. Little sneakers smacked against the hallway floor as Yongbok bolted in first, her curls bouncing wildly. She stopped dead in her tracks, mouth falling open.

“Ahm... mommy?” Yongbok pointed at the wall with the kind of horrified awe only she could muster. “Did the house get sick?”

Jisung let out a strangled laugh, quickly covering his mouth. Hyunjin, who had been trying to clean Jihan’s green-stained elbow, groaned into her palms.

Then Minhee walked in, Jeongin trailing behind her with a bag of snacks, and Seungmin following with his usual amused expression.

The moment Minhee saw the wall, she gasped. “Hyunjin! Ooh my god. Wow.” She clapped a hand to her mouth, torn between laughter and despair.

“It was their idea!” Hyunjin cried, pointing accusingly at her twins, both of whom were proudly showing off paint-covered hands.

Jeongin leaned sideways to get a better look, crunching loudly into an apple she had pulled from the bag. Her eyes widened, and then she snorted.

“Wow. That wall’s gone forever. Should I… bring flowers? Or light a candle? Bring my black dress.”

“Innie!” Hyunjin hissed.

Seungmin, finally stepping into the room, glanced at the twins, then at the supplies on the floor, then at Jisung who looked far too pleased with himself.

“Let me get this straight. They started painting the wall.” He raised an eyebrow. “And instead of stopping them… you just watched?”

“They were already halfway done when I got here!” Hyunjin protested, and Seungmin looked at Jisung again.

Jisung lifted his hands innocently. “They were having fun. I mean, look at their faces. This is art! It’s like… a mural.”

“A mural?” Seungmin repeated flatly. “It looks like a pack of crayons got murdered.”

Hyunjin smothered a groan. Minhee was laughing now, not even trying to hide it. Yongbok, meanwhile, had stars in her eyes. “It’s so pretty! Bbokkari would love this! Can I draw too, please? Pleeease, Papa?”

Before anyone could answer, another voice called from the hallway. “What’s all the yelling?” Changbin appeared, followed closely by Chan who looked like he’d been dragged along whole evening class. Both froze at the sight of the wall.

“Oh… oh,” Chan said carefully, tilting his head. “That’s… new.”

Changbin blinked at the rainbow chaos and then burst out laughing. “Mom, dad, that wall’s not coming back.”

Hyunjin slapped her forehead as Jihan, green streaks still up his arm, puffed his chest. “Da.. dagon,” he declared, pointing at a shapeless blob, declaring it a dragon.

“And me!” Hyejin squealed, smacking another handprint onto the wall.

Changbin squatted down to their level, smiling in awe. “Did you guys really do all of this?”

“Yes!” they shouted in unison.

Jisung beamed proudly behind them like a coach whose team just won a championship. Seungmin muttered something about utter chaos under his breath. Jeongin kept crunching her apple like she was watching the best drama unfold live.

The debate rose into a storm of voices.

Hyunjin insisting the wall can be painted again, Jisung defending the twins’ creativity, Seungmin demanding to know why nobody thought about consequences, Minhee giggling into her sleeve, and Yongbok tugging at her father’s pant leg, chanting, “Papa, papa, let me draw too!”

It was a mess.

A loud, chaotic, colorful mess.

And yet, under the frustration and laughter, something about it felt… warm.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wall wasn’t ruined.

It was just beginning.

For a while, the room was nothing but noise. Twins shouting about dragons, Yongbok begging to join, Minhee trying (and failing) to keep her laughter quiet, Hyunjin half-panicking, Jisung playing defense for the kids, Seungmin muttering like a judge at a trial, and Jeongin crunching away at her apple like she isn't even part of it.

Finally, Jisung raised both hands. “Alright, alright. Everybody, breathe.”

The room stilled. Sort of. Hyejin still had paint dripping off her fingers, Jihan was eyeing his sister’s hand like he wanted to add more blobs to the wall, and Yongbok had both hands tugging at Seungmin’s arm. But at least no one was yelling.

Jisung turned toward the wall. His lips quirked up slowly. “Look… I think this could actually be something. Why don’t we all add something instead of just arguing?”

Hyunjin blinked at him. “Sung, are you seriously—” But before she could finish, Jeongin, of all people, stepped up. She tossed the apple core into the bin, wiped her hand on her jeans, and picked up a brush from the floor. Without saying a word, she leaned forward and drew a small, lopsided star in the corner of the wall.

Everyone stared.

Jeongin shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, if it’s ruined anyway…”

The twins gasped like they’d just witnessed history. Yongbok squealed, grabbed a brush nearly as big as her arm, and ran at the wall. She made a very determined circle, yellow, messy, streaky, but definitely a circle.

“It’s Bbokkari!” she declared proudly.

Seungmin groaned, but when she looked up at him with sparkling eyes, he sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and crouched beside her.

“Alright. Let me help you make it look like an actual chick.”

That was the turning point.

Soon, Minhee was painting flowers around Yongbok’s Bbokkari, carefully adding petals in soft strokes. Changbin took a brush, muttering something about balancing the chaos, and started drawing clouds to frame the twins’ dragons. Chan followed with bold, blocky shapes that somehow looked like shields.

Jisung, unsurprisingly went all in, doodling a smiling sun with sunglasses. “Look, honey, he’s cool like me!”

“Please never say that again,” Minhee muttered, on behalf of the woman. She was already kneeling with Hyejin, helping her paint bunny ears onto her blob of color.

At some point, Seungmin caught himself actually sketching a little house with careful, neat lines. “Don’t look at me,” he grumbled when Jeongin teased him. “It’s architectural balance.”

Minhee snorted. “It’s cute, admit it.”

And Hyunjin, began filling in details, blending colors, shaping the mess into something whole. Her kids were laughing, Minhee’s laughter mixed with Jisung’s teasing, Seungmin’s low voice guiding Yongbok’s strokes, Jeongin whistling while adding tiny stars everywhere, and Chan and Changbin bickering over whose masterpiece was better.

The chaos had melted into something else, something warm, noisy, alive.

The wall wasn’t just scribbles anymore. It was a story.

Their story.

And when the last brush stroke was made, the room went quiet in that satisfied kind of way. The wall, once a battlefield of mess and panic, now stretched wide with dragons, suns, chicks, flowers, stars, clouds, and doodles that somehow wove into each other like patchwork.

The kids stood shoulder to shoulder in front of it, chests puffed out. Jihan pointed proudly at the dragon he and Chan made, Hyejin tugged Hyunjin’s sleeve and demanded she look at the bunny ears again, and Yongbok clung to Seungmin’s leg, squealing.

Hyunjin crossed her arms, still torn between laughter and despair, but her lips couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at them. Jisung, grinning ear to ear, slung an arm around her shoulders.

Minhee wiped her paint-smeared hands on her jeans, stepping back. “You know what…” Her voice softened. “We should leave a space.”

Everyone turned.

She pointed at an empty patch in the middle of the wall, clean, untouched, like it was waiting. “For their Grandpapa and Grandmama. When they come back from their trip. They deserve to be part of this too.”

The suggestion hung in the air, and slowly, heads nodded. “Yeah,” Chan said gently, lowering his brush. “They’d love this.”

Jisung’s grin dimmed into something warmer, more tender. “Appa would probably draw something ridiculous.”

“And mom,” Seungmin added, the smile on his face softening, “would make it beautiful anyway.”

The twins, picking up on the shift in mood, exchanged a glance, then clapped their painty hands together.

Yongbok giggled. “Okay! We’ll save the best spot for them!” she waddled forward, stretched her arms, and carefully taped a piece of paper over the blank space with big scribbles:

Reserved for Grandpapa & Grandmama.

The room filled with laughter again. Soft, not chaotic this time. They all stood there for a moment longer, paint-stained and tired but full, staring at the wall of memories they’d just built together.

It wasn’t perfect.

The lines were crooked, the colors clashed, the shapes were messy. But it was theirs. And now, it was waiting to be completed.

By the time brushes were dropped into jars of cloudy water and the last streaks of paint dried, everyone gathered back, shoulder to shoulder, in front of the wall. The kids were buzzing with excitement, pointing out their masterpieces like tour guides.

“My dagon!” Jihan shouted, almost bouncing out of his shoes.

“Bunny has crown. She is queen!” Hyejin declared, tugging Jisung's pant so he wouldn’t miss it.

Chan proudly smacked his palm against the messy but bold robot he and Yongbok had scribbled together, while Changbin explained the streak of rainbow in the corner like it was a professional piece in a gallery.

Hyunjin and Minhee couldn’t help it. They laughed until their cheeks hurt.

Jisung, arms crossed, leaned against the wall opposite and let his grin soften as his eyes moved over every wild, crooked, colorful part of it. “Look at us,” he murmured. “We made a mess… and somehow, it turned into this.”

Seungmin slid an arm around Minhee, paint still smudged on his cheek, and nodded. “Not bad, huh?”

Jeongin, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up with a small smile. “It’s not just drawings… it’s us.”

The room fell quiet at that.

They all stood there, staring, not at the mess, but at what it meant. Every crooked line, every too-big smiley face, every splash of color told a story. A piece of them.

Hyunjin let out a soft breath, almost like a laugh, and whispered, “Now... it really is a wall of memories.”

The kids clapped at the phrase, repeating it like a chant. And in that golden-lit living room, covered in paint and surrounded by laughter, the family knew this wall would never be painted over.

It wasn’t just a wall anymore.

It was theirs.

Forever.