I open the door and he's standing there, not acting like I've ever seen him act before. His proud smirk is washed out. His straight back is slouched forward in defeat. His sharp eyes, usually so mischievious and playful, are dull, and worn down. He looks up at me, directly at me, and his expression is full of pain and regret. It's clear he's been beating himself up for hours on end, and it's not hard to guess why. Heck, in his situation, I know I'd be in the same state. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but he hesitates, trying to find the right words.

"I know I..."

"I...I'm sorry, I..."

"I've been..."

"Please, can you ever-"

Suddenly, I'm out in the rain with him, the cold droplets sinking into my clothes as I tighten my warm embrace. He's caught by surprise, but his waterlogged sleeves eventually settle around my shoulders, and despite the constant roar of the rain and the faint buzz of the television inside, I can hear him crying, gentle sobs almost undetectable to someone not wrapped around his chest. A whispered thank you breathes through the cold night, and is repeated like a mantra. I can feel his burden being lifted, hopelessness moving aside for happy relief, and I know that by doing this, I have given him a second chance.

"LEE! What is taking so long?!" my mother cries, getting up from the couch to investigate. Instinctively, we pull away from each other, just in time to see her enter the hallway and stop dead in her tracks.

"Ki-tae," she whispers, the sound barely wafting our direction. Tears build up in her eyes, and suddenly her rigid frame fades into a whispy ghost of itself, her body racked with emotion. Slowly, she extends her arms towards us, and with a start, I realize she's beckoning us inside. Without thinking, I obey, stepping out of the rain to avoid her usual snappy nature. She doesn't seem to notice, however, because she continues to stare past me out the door. I turn to see my brother hesitating outside, his foot hovering over the threshold, not quite ready to cross that line. To enter into this family. To...start a new life.

He looks up at me again, eyes filled with apprehension and worry. The one look seems to say a thousand words, each versed in longing questions. Quiet tears slip down his cheeks, wondering, hoping, but incredibly lost.

I reach out and grip his shoulder, my own tears beginning to slide.

"It's okay," I assure him.

And for the first time, I see him really smile.

There's a dull thud as he steps inside.