a/n: A snapshot of sorts. Title from the song by Japanese Breakfast (go stream Soft Sounds from Another Planet!). CW for discussion of child abuse, Christianity, violence and depression.

I recommend reading Sprout (ch. 3 of Difficult Situations), Now That I Found You and maybe (?) Going Digital (ch. 4 of Youth Line) before moving forward. Like NTIFY, this is set during adulthood. But also just read everything I've written as existing in the same non-canonical universe. :')

"Hey...Where did Shibe go?" Jun jumped back a little in his chair.

"Chill, Jun. He's just under the table."

Jun ducked to look underneath the table. Shibe was sleeping peacefully. Lying down with his legs curled in, Shibe looked an awful lot like a loaf of milk bread-the kind you could buy at the Asian supermarket's bakery aisle.

Min tapped Shibe on the head with her foot. "When he sleeps, he sleeps like the dead."

Min's wording wasn't exactly... comforting.

"ANYWAY, you don't need to worry!"

To be honest, Jun still found dogs (especially large dogs) to be intimidating, so when Min appeared at the door with Shibe (who wasn't even particularly large), he was a little taken-aback. Now a little older, this was mostly due to his landlord's vague policy around pets and his need to stay in her best graces, which only seemed to further justify his overly-cautious tendencies.

Jun remembers his first up-close interaction with a dog; in a community of mostly Asian families who were mostly afraid of dogs, Bacon, Hayden's childhood dog, had cemented herself in the forefront and backdrop of many of their early memories. Unfortunately, those were mostly memories tied to fear. While Min didn't seem to mind the large golden retriever and her overly-playful tendencies (which she seemed to take as a challenge more than anything else), Jun was scared of Bacon's seeming lack of self-awareness when it came to her relative size and strength.

It wasn't even that she was a bad or mean dog; in fact, Bacon seemed very attuned to the feelings of the humans around her. And, even as an adult, Hayden continued to refuse the possibility of getting another dog. That's how much Bacon meant to him-how important she was to him. He still remembers how upset Hayden was when Bacon died, the tremble in his voice when he shared this news with Jun, who had recently moved back to California from Florida. He still regrets telling him that it was wrong for him to cry, that boys shouldn't cry. Jun thought he was just being pragmatic, that he was doing the right thing by advising Hayden not to dwell on painful things, but really he was being dismissive; he was projecting.

He thought that by doing and saying these things, he was making things easier for others, but really he was just afraid and avoidant of the outcomes that would lay before him otherwise, that truthfully would lay before him regardless. He entered his 20s filled with an unsurmountable amount of doubt and fear. Despite having a 'meaningful' job in the medical field, he still felt lost.

Jun stopped attending church years ago; he really tried to keep going, sometimes he wonders where he'd be if he had continued going, but it became increasingly difficult and only seemed to reveal an unsettling guilt and shame that had taken the place and voice of his parents and had left him with a constant need to please others. Sometimes he wondered if his past actions and behaviour bothered others as much as it bothered Jun now upon reflection, but, of course, the only way to know was by reaching out and saying something. ...That, of course, was easier 'said' than 'done'.

"Wait," Jun narrowed his eyes at Min, "did you remember to bring the seaweed soup?"

"Oops. Hold on."

Min stopped chopping the peanuts for the rice cake filling and reached down to unzip her backpack, pulling out an oversized thermos.

"Of course I remembered. What do you take me for?"

Jun stared at Min with a look of disbelief.

"And by that, I mean, Diya reminded me, to remind myself."

Jun shrugged and sighed, unsurprised, but grateful nonetheless. "...Well, there's nothing wrong with a little help, I guess."

Diya had already texted Jun earlier to let him know she wouldn't be able to go celebrate halmeoni''s birthday with them. Pom, the newest addition to their family, had booked a last-minute veterinarian appointment. Luckily, it was nothing serious, not that Jun knew much of anything about dogs. (Though, based on his most recent visit, Pom seemed to be anything but a normal dog for her immense fascination with the computer, not that Min and Diya seemed to notice.) But, according to Min, it was just a routine visit and she just needed her booster shots.

When Min had arrived, Jun was in the middle of making the rice cake fillings-red bean paste, and a peanut-sesame seed mixture-having accidentally slept in a little late. (Thankfully they weren't due to visit halmeoni until dinner.) Seeing the freshly roasted peanuts and sesame seeds, she initially argued in favour of using crunchy peanut butter as a shortcut, only to begrudgingly but somewhat enthusiastically help prepare the fillings. They had already finished rolling out the little balls of red bean paste, which now rested on a baking tray in the freezer to set, so all that was left was the second filling and the dough (the easiest part of the recipe).

"I already put the gift for halmeoni in my car, so when we're done here, we can leave right away. It's kind of...big, but surprisingly very lightweight."

"Great! I'm pumped to see her reaction! Diya was really happy when she saw the photos of the finished frame; she couldn't believe that it fits up to thirty photos."

Jun smiled at Min's words. "We have mostly Hayden to thank. It was his idea."

Lucky for all of them that Hayden's ex-girlfriend's partner had a woodwork business. They were even able to choose the type of wood.

The open-style of the frame, from the use of clothespins and the lack of glass, meant that it'd be convenient for halmeoni to change out the photos whenever she wanted.

"Halmeoni still hasn't met him, Hayden, I mean... She really seemed to like Diya. Maybe all four of us can visit her some time?"

"Hmm... maybe, I don't know. I guess..."

"Hey, no pressure!"

Unfortunately, Jun rarely had time-off, despite finishing his medical residency last year, so he couldn't visit very often.

Most of the time, he came home in dire need of sleep, but still somehow struggling to sleep through the night. It was thanks to their shared struggles and exhaustion that Jun was able to bond with his medical school cohort, but it was still easy to feel isolated and disconnected from the rest of society after long days of work.

That's why he was grateful that Hayden lived nearby. They could still share meals together and carpool to the grocery store almost every week and even (very occasionally) game. Jun was thankful that after all these years, he was still in his life, even if things were different now.

Min had finished finely-chopping the peanuts and, with the edge of her knife, scraped them into the bowl containing sesame seeds, butter, brown sugar and a pinch of salt.

With gloved hands, Jun took the bowl from his twin and mixed the ingredients until well-combined. He then pushed the bowl towards the centre of the table, so they could begin forming the little balls of the mixture that would fill the glutinous rice dough.

"Thanks for your help, Min. Even though I really should have prepped the fillings last night..."

"It's fine! I'm here for you. ...And, just know that I'm really glad to have you in my life, Jun."

"...Wait, is... something wrong? You aren't normally this sentimental."

"Not exactly. I guess... I need to say these things now, or I'll never get to say them at all. What I mean is, I thought I was protecting you all those years ago, from dad... but I hurt you too. Even when I fucked shit up, I thought it was different, that I was different. I hated thinking about how similar we were. I still hate it. Sometimes it'd make me so angry, I used to wish I could just rip the skin from my bones and just make it all go away, but maybe I was just being weak." Min firmly pressed a handful of mixture between her palms. "I'm sorry, Jun. There's a lot I could've done better or could've not done at all. ...I haven't been a very good noona."

"That's fine, I mean... it's okay that it's not fine. ...I mean, I'm sorry too, for not being there for you when I should have or could have. Even when you were in pain and lashed out, I sided with our parents all of those times when you probably needed me the most. I wanted to believe they had our best interests at heart. We were just kids and I acted like you were to blame for things that really weren't your fault. I know I've hurt you too and I'm sorry for not saying anything sooner." Jun gently released the mixture from between his palms.

"...You know, I had to think about what to say, even though that's something I don't normally do. Putting things into words is hard, so thank you, Jun, for talking to me and being here with me right now."

Min was right. Neither of them learned to put any of the hurt and shame they felt into words. For their parents, it was as if this avoidance made the denial of their wrongdoings and the failings of the world that much easier to enact and live with...

It was difficult, but if they never learned to say things, too many things would continue to be left unsaid; this was the burden they inherited.

"I think it'll take at least a lifetime to understand even half of what we went through growing up. All I know right now is that I'm grateful to have a twin who I can process these things with, so thank you too, Min."

"A-Amen," Min said, as she finished shaping the last of the peanut-sesame filling and proudly placed it onto the tray.

"...Pfff, this must be the first time in a decade that either of us is even saying 'amen'. The context is wrong, but at least it's on our own terms."

"You've got that damn right."

Jun got up from his seat and took the tray to the freezer, but stopped to stifle a bubbling laughter.

"A..." Jun was in tears from laughing too hard. "A...AMIN."

"HEY! QUIT IT WITH THE PUNS."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it." Jun clumsily wiped the tears from his face, as he regained his composure.

"Jeez, Hayden's influence has really fucked with your humour. Only old people make those kinds of jokes."

"Well, if I'm old, by extension, you're old too!"

"...True, true..."

"I guess, even though we've both made a lot of mistakes, we're okay now, right?"

"Yeah. We'll fuck up today, and be okay tomorrow!"

"Yeah. But, for now, let's get started on that rice cake dough."

Min was a strong person. While both of them, according to their parents, failed to live in God's image and their 'faithlessness' would only sentence them to eternal damnation unless they repented, Min never really 'gave up'. If anything, her faith was recalibrated in her desire to live as herself and together with the people she cared about.

In contrast, Jun often felt ungrounded and unmoored, as if the floorboards had been torn from underneath his feet, leaving him one step away from slipping into nothingness. When he woke up in the morning, his body felt heavy and tired, fixing him in-place and leaving him wishing he could just disappear into his sheets.

But, despite it all, he was still here; blood was flowing through his veins.

And here he was, with the person he had entered the world with.

Maybe one day, maybe even tomorrow, he would feel that was enough.

"...Oh yeah, before I forget to say something for another ten years, I wanted to apologize, for your Tamagotchi."

"That's oka- wait, huh?!"

"In tenth grade, when you asked me to keep an eye on it while you were at baseball practice. ...I lied, I bought you a new one so you wouldn't think I broke it, but I should've just told you the truth..."

"Min, I already knew that you broke it."

"WHAT? But how?! I literally got you the exact same one, even scratched it up a little to make it look used."

"That's... not a great admission. But, no, never mind that, you forgot one important detail."

Min gave Jun a questioning look, as if to urge him forward.

"Remember how I'd always put laminated labels with my initials and our address on all of my things, just in case they ever went missing?"

"Yea- OHHHH...Jun, shit dude, I'm getting shivers just remembering how nerdy and 'metabolic' you are."

"Okay, now you're just being rude."

...'Metabolic', she means 'meticulous', right?

a/n: "Your body is a blade that moves while your brain is writhing/ Knuckled under pain, you mourn but your blood is flowing"

I finished replaying Butterfly Soup in its entirety at the end of November and the stuff with Min and Jun's father hit a little too close to home. I used to think that it'd be easy to just 'not be' like my parents because of how they've hurt me and how I've learned to acknowledge this, but I've also come to the realization that it'll always be harder to not make the same mistakes and behave destructively. If it were 'easy', then there wouldn't be these increasingly apparent intergenerational patterns of violence and I wouldn't need therapy.

I think that the empathy that we learn to feel, especially when we come from Asian immigrant families and come to recognize the difficulties our family members and ancestors have faced thanks to the failed or perpetually unfulfilled promises of the 'immigrant dream', is important. However, it then becomes important to learn not to disregard the ongoing and already-lived painful consequences of these promises (which will always be construed as lesser within the logic of filial indebtedness), if we are to learn to be accountable in our own lifetimes. Love and care aren't something pre-existing; they are things we learn to do, actions we take.

"We'll fuck up today, and be okay tomorrow"; I want these words to be my moor into 2020.

Thank you for reading.