grief worked through cycles and every stage showcased itself across her face, scenes from a grotesque film reel: the sharp disbelief, the search for humor, the rocking devastation, and the abrupt stop at denial. he kept his lips tightened into a line as she spoke, a rejection, a plea, an ardent statement, another plea. his eyes traced the lines of her face, memorizing how each one deepened, stretched, twisting around the heartbreak that she refused to claim as her own even as it cracked through her voice.
" i care, " he choked, words overlapping hers ⎯
and for a minute, that was all it was: speaking over each other, dovetailing, a messy etude of discordant harmonies, notes falling off the sheet:
" don't say who cares, that's all ⎯ that is all i care about, jihye. you're all i care about. " buried under her words, shot through them, an argument that defied timing, communication ran thin with desperation. " i'm ⎯ i know you can protect yourself, i know, but ⎯ isn't it my choice, too? don't i ⎯ " her words at their end, his an empty beat of air behind. " ⎯ get to choose how i lose you? " silence. his hands in hers, hers in his. he couldn't tell anymore. he held one, she held the other. a fight, even in that. even with tears in his eyes and lungs threatening to drown or dry out. " isn't that my choice? "
and then, as with any shared piece, there was a response. her response, tearstained and hurt but strong, even now. through the holes in the walls of the dilapidated treehouse, the world existed and peeked in on them. a car horn blaring down the street. someone's music offensively loud a few houses over. a cluster of children biking down the block, meaningless chatter that must have held the weight of the world at their age. and inside, within the cupped hands of a treehouse they found and adopted, yukhei exhaled. his forehead pressed against hers, inhaling as if he could hold her breath in his lungs and keep her safe that way. as if there were any other options than the decrescendo they were already facing. " i would marry you. do you know that? if you'd ever wanted ⎯ if i'd ever asked ⎯ " his voice cracked at the end. fracture imminent, a demolition of self. " but you know that's not in the cards. you always knew that, jihye, don't tell me you didn't. "
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