He slips from the window sill, his fingers prying off the panes. When he walks to her, his feet leave behind the same dust she speaks of, not of this world. He ceases a foot or so before the lack of space allows them to touch, and now he’s looking at what lies between them. The space, the air – things that don’t belong to anyone in particular, like they do.
Her, to here, where time binds her to more than she asks it to.
And him, to elsewhere, where time only exists in it’s form of youth and knows of nothing else.
“You say you’ve changed and that you’ve aged, and yet you are still so cruel, saying things like that.” His face holds the same look of hurt he’s held since the last meeting. His skin hasn’t aged a day and neither has his heart, naive and so easily hurt. “You may have missed me, but yet you did not return. Never once, did you look beyond the window and ask for the dust to carry you across the sky to the island.” The next time he speaks, he’s quieter, enough to have the creaks of the floor beneath them be louder.
“You missed and yet you did not miss enough.”
When he finally holds her hands in his own, it’s like the first time. She always makes him remember, and he does just that: her hair in a braid, the warmth she held in each step, how she came and her presence never really having left the lost boys, the island, and him at all. How strongly she can hold him even after so much time.
“How could I not.” His voice exasperates, chest falling. “How could I not take you back, Jieun?” He brings her hands and places two kisses at the tips of her fingers. He smiles on her skin, and the night already hurts him. “Let’s go back.”
He spoke just as he always did: brutally honest and with a knife as a tongue. yet she felt no pain with it. he spoke far too softly with eyes that begged for her to feel that wonder she once felt when she was with him and the lost boys. she had wondered years after their last meeting what it meant for them to be lost. were they truly lost? or were they in search for souls that had lost their ways?
She exhaled, not realizing she held her breath until he was closer to her. the floor creaked beneath his feet, and it was her only indication that he was truly there and not some sort of figment of her imagination of wanting to return to the day where her wonder had been found.
“I didn’t know I could do such a thing. I should’ve tried harder then. Forgive me.” She whispered, almost afraid that he would run away if she spoke an octave louder. she offered him a smile, allowing the warmth of his hand to make her feel alive again. it warmed her heart, soothing the aches in her bones she hadn’t realized were there until they were gone.
“But you’re here now, and time has given us a chance to go back to where we were before.” He couldn’t offer much to her anymore. not when the world was so cruel to her soul. not when time had aged her, yet he stood before her without ever knowing or feeling the kiss of time on his cheeks (not even in his eyes though it held so much hurt, so much more than the world would offer to him).
she wondered how a boy like him could feel the gravity of loneliness, and how it slept on his skin as though it was a piece of him. but the kisses he placed on her fingertips told her he needed someone there. perhaps another adventure, or perhaps another companion to let him know that his hurt was only temporary. that it would fade just as she would when time gave its final kiss.
or perhaps he knew she wouldn’t always be here with him. that even if she wanted to call out to the dust in the sky to bring her back to him, there would be a day where there would no longer be breaths coming from her.
and he would be left alone knowing that he lived while she left with the wind.
“Take me back then.” She smiled wider this time. “I want to feel the wind in my hair like before. Maybe this time I won’t scream as much. You won’t let go of me, right?”
For starters, he should’ve remembered to put his alarm a little before dawn, he should’ve made himself some coffee before she woke up, and he most definitely should’ve not stayed the night at her place when he’s got work this evening.
The hallway feels longer than last time he came. He can’t remember much of that visit, too, other than it surely didn’t play out like today’s. Moonsik closes his mouth and grows more teeth at the sound of her speaking about her, about him, then grinds them in thought until they’re reduced to nothing. She speaks her truth with an odd smile and all he remains is attentive.
“Would you have wanted me to stay?” he’s making it sound so easy, telling someone about things you deduce in silence. But he doesn’t expect a concrete answer. With these many places to go and people to meet, he can’t believe she’d settle for one person in one place at one time’s moment.
Now that he’s walking towards her, every step or so dragged but a bit more alert, he realizes she’s closer than expected. And he doesn’t get very near. Enough to lean on the frame and glance at the stove, then to the pot she already had boiling, and it gets a sigh from him through his nose. It’s from relief, and he didn’t expect it to, but he’s not quite ready to go. Not after drinking a morning something. Not after sitting down with her a little longer.
“I’m already feeling a little off,” for no particular reason, he feels like offering a smile. Maybe because he owed her one. “Any tea will do.”
In his eyes, the clear expression of a déjà vu’s aftermath.
“Jieun,” in his mouth, the taste of a forgotten tea left to cool longer than needed. “Have you ever felt like you’ve lived a moment before, one too many times?”
His words were supposed to mean something to the both of them, and somehow they did. it was small, but she could feel the small point stabbing at her heart. all she could do was smile to him, tucking the locks of hair that escaped behind her ear.
“Not many do, even if I asked them to.” She could count on her hand the number of people who stayed after she begged them to stay. she could count more of those she begged to leave, but didn’t. they had stayed through the storm, and many of them were disappointed to see that she would be gone with it. she wondered which he would be, but tomorrow’s storm had not arrived, and she doubt she would leave. even if he asked her to.
She lets the kettle sing a little while longer before turning the heat off, grabbing two mugs from the right cabinet. “All I have is earl grey. I must’ve run out of the others before it I realized.” maybe she would ask him to come along with her, to walk around the city to the shop where she gets the tea leaves she always used.
When they settle, she wondered whether the chaos in his mind would ever quell. she knew hers never would, but she remained calm through it. she remained as unconcerned for it as she could, hiding the pain that came with it.
“Yes.” She left the tea to cool, never taking a sip of it because somehow the way they sat in front of each other made her feel as though she couldn’t move. and she almost hadn’t for a long time. she shuffled then, one hand on the handle of the mug while the other wrapped around the curve of it. “Every day feels like the last. Sometimes even the moments that make you feel as though they’re special, feel as though they’ve happened before.”
Because they have. “And sometimes it’s not fair, but even if I’ve lived a moment for far longer than I should.” She looked up at him then, giving him the softest smile she could offer. “They’re what I need most to wake up for tomorrow.”
Somehow he beams when her touch collides with his, even if the sun’s about to dethrone all things unrelated to her for the day. He’d taken off from home five minutes earlier than usual for this reason, even if he’d only been solidifying it on the way here. The frigid air welcomes his last breath before anything else can, even if it’s already done this once before.
What’s present to you, are two truths and one lie. But please don’t bother figuring it out right now. We have days that aren’t either one of ours to sort out first.
Now’s not the time to think about yourself.
(You don’t even know him.)
He looks at her unblinkingly, the hat on the top of her head a bit more out of place than usual. About after… he scribbles in the back of his mind. The clearing of his throat makes up for lost time, a placid smile on tired features coming in display. “You have forever for promises to mean something,” Boy teases. “So I won’t hold this one against you.”
Today’s cards replace her hands in his grip when he turns away. He’s not going to shuffle through them anymore if it means starting off the century with a tradition that’s new and equally welcome. You wouldn’t mind talking about that, would you? Who do you say this to? And why not out loud?
Someone else will care about these things when it’s the time for them to listen. Death will happen the way it needs to after all, and it’s never in your power to decide when or how no matter where the cards lay.
“There are no mass casualties today in my roster,” he says definitively. Before Jieun asks. Before she thinks about whatever she needs to think for the start of this budding 24-hour cycle. There’s no flinching when he continues with, “That’s sort of a win, isn’t it?”
she shifted, aware that standing in front of him like this made it easy for boy to read her expression. but there were worlds between them, keeping boy unaware of the things she knew of. she sighed, eyes closing at the trembling thoughts that were close to breaking before her. now was not the time for them to form bonds, but she had been desperate to save his sinking ship.
but somehow boy always made it easier to forget the blackness of her world and her endless desire to seek peace for him. she smiled then, hearing his attempt at teasing her. it made their work a little more bearable, and that meant more to her than anything that has happened today. “I’ll try not to forget it though. It means a lot to me to keep these promises alive.”
It meant that she hadn’t lost the entirety of her humanity, if she had any to spare.
“Good,” her voice wavered for only a second, realizing that this was only the beginning of their partnership together. there was no reason for her to work with him. she worked better alone anyway, but boy was now connected to her. a link that had been attached to the chains that bounded her. yet the initial surprise had turned into empathy. boy was now someone she wanted to save, but then again, she was never good at being the hero in stories written in history.
if anything, she was particularly good at playing the villain.
a wannabe hero dressed in black. how fitting.
“We’ll start here then, and go from there until we’ve come back to this stop.” The stop was their beginning and end, the cycle only breaking when jieun left for a period of time without ever telling boy where she’d gone. But she’d always promised him that she’d be back, and she has yet to break those promises. “Mass causalities aside, the ones we have right now are bit heartbreaking either way.”
The first stops were always the hardest ones. They stood by the flickering lamp post, hats hiding the top halves of the face while the moon lightened the bottom. she wasn’t particularly fond of working like this, but work was work and she almost hated herself for thinking that. “Souls are fickle. You remember how to take them, don’t you?”
She leaned her weight on her right foot, index finger pointing to their entrance way. “Lead the way this time. You’re in charge today.”
“I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.”
leaves these here for another day.
- dream au. there's a world out there that only the two of them know of, a world that becomes alive only when they're asleep. it starts out as accidental meetings in their dreams, and it morphs into a place of confidence because nothing makes sense outside these images.
- violinist au. she wished to be a great violinist who composed her own songs but in return of that talent, she loses a piece of herself each time she creates a new piece. take a piece, lose a piece. you try to collect her pieces and make her whole again (it's like a hocrux kind of thing with this).
- orange au r/t the manga/anime. where muse a finds letters containing diary entries of things that happen in the future and the goal is to prevent muse b from dying by changing the events contained in the letters.
- jieun's verse where she meets someone who is similar to her, someone who makes her feel not alone. they recreate their tales through their stories, exchanging silent words because loud ones mean everyone but them can hear them. They're more penpals than anything else. they send each other emails on things that have been on their minds, only meeting when necessary.
- time traveler au (maybe not au). i liked the idea of jieun having met someone when she was just new to the world post death. she meets someone who makes her feel safe because they've met her in the future already and know how she is and will be.
- alice in wonderland au. the story of a girl fallen into a world not her own. i kind of wanted to tackle the more grotesque/horror side of this rather than the colorful world we see in the animation.
Technology, to say the least, is phenomenal. Not to state the obvious, even if no one in the general norm is exactly keeping track. But it’s fairly valid of said population to be highly amused by what new breakthroughs occur in this day and age, millennial-oriented or not. How fun is it to be in the loop of the latest gadgets and gizmos, always? Depends on your interest and life span, exposure to blue light as of today since birth, et cetera.
Those are mere mortal statistics. Whether it’s vain or not is up to you, but. You’re never quite conscious of that now, are you?
Not the technology bit, no.
That other thing.
Exhibit A:
It’s funny how FaceTime works. Because… isn’t that just looking at yourself in a mirror of some sort? You know? Face… time…
Sigh.
Five and a half bad jokes in his head later, Boy answers the call. She gets to see the ceiling for the time being even though he could technically just hide his surroundings entirely with the camera off. It’s only on because she needs to know he’s alive, he thinks. One would be technically wrong though if that’s what they actually think they are, knowing them.
That’s how and why nobody does.
“Hello,” he coos immediately, lightly biting his tongue as he examines the fabric swatches in his hands. He’s in a good mood this afternoon, never minding the lack of sun through the windows. The corner of his screen tells him it is, in fact, not afternoon though. And so the mood returns to something more stagnant, stale when he’s back to focusing on varied material. “What time do I meet you at the bus stop?” The gritted smile he wears says it’s in fifteen minutes and not fifteen hours. Shame.
Shame how… crafting hats is becoming more of a hobby than a job to make ends meet at this rate, as mundane as it may be in the long run. His fourth cycle’s begun just recently, and —
I was wondering if we could drink to that -
I was thinking we could dine at that one place…
I just wanted to know if,
well. Hm.
For now, hm.
in some place not here, she was someone whose hands were not tainted black and boy was not so fallen as he was. in some place that has already forgotten them, they were not a part of each other’s lives and she decided that they were happier that way. to not be in each other’s lives meant that there was no need for them to meet here, or to be in a place that had been forgotten by God and full of death. But here she was, sitting in a cold room with nothing but four walls protecting her from the reality of what was happening around her. she sighed, hands dangling off her bed while looking at the technological device that she had no idea how to use.
“Hi,” She heard him say, his face shadowed by the darkness of the sky. she wondered if boy was aware of the time that slipped away from him.
“I’d really like it if the two of us didn’t have to meet.” Because meeting at the bus stop meant work. For them to see each other meant they were doing things that she didn’t want him to do. But boy was nothing more than a tool for the watchers of the underworld.
Then again, so was she.
“Soon,” She drawled as she rolled over in her bed and sat up at the other side of it. She let the phone rest on her bed, the camera now facing the ceiling rather than her tired face. She looked out the window, the sun gone and with it her hope that today wouldn’t leave boy so soon. “I’ll see you there.”
the connection broke, and she was left in her room that seemed smaller than it had just a minute ago. the black corner of her room seemed to breathe like it was real, and it was. it sucked the life out of her room, her only plant withering as quickly as he came. boy would have to wait longer, and she hated making him wait.
“Not today.” She pleaded.
“Today.” and she was up on her feet, forgetting the contraption of a phone on her bed, missing the way the phone lit up as boy called back.
“Sorry I’m late.” She’d been thirty minutes late, watching closely as boy stood in an outfit so dreary, she almost wanted to scream. but she wouldn’t. instead, she walked up to him and took his hands. The cold of the night was fresh on his hands, and she squeezed to give boy her warmth. “I’ll make it up to you after. I promise, Nico.”
jieun was a mess of pieces connected together by red twine. it was flimsy and could easily be broken, but she lingered and crept across the shop as though she had never left. as though she had nothing to lose. she pretended for hyeri, so she saw the beautiful flowers hyeri saw and told her all she wanted to know. from the tales of forgotten women and the pleas of men in love, she told her all the things she knew from fear of being left behind.
I never wanted you to leave, she whispered to the particles of dust that lingered thickly in the air when the rusted bell sung off tune and echoed through the room with withered flowers and forgotten footsteps. but it is unfair to have you here.
“Hyeri, come here for a moment.” the girl peered up from where she was watering the flowers, smiling softly as she left the watering pot on the ground and walked over. her footsteps made indentations to the dust on the ground, the only indication to jieun that she was ever truly here. There’s a tense look on jieun’s face, one that matched the grim smile that she gave in a silent plea for some sort of reassurance that she was more than just a passing wind.
“What’s the matter?” her concern was admirable. it brought life to the dead ends that jieun seemed to always walk into, breaking the walls to make a way for her. it made her feel alive, but she knew that hyeri only saw the ghost of who she once was. yet she had found her, and the warmth of her hand touched her ice cold hands and melted it.
“Are you okay with this place?” She glanced around. the entire shop was filtered out in grey, and not even the smile on hyeri’s face could bring life back into it for her. all she saw was the shadow of the image hyeri saw, and it was as though she saw nothing and less. “It’s okay here?”
“It’s more than that.” Hyeri’s smile was wider now, and her hand squeezed hers. “You’re here with me.”
night: they say when you die the grim reaper greets you with a sinister smile, but he had walked into the room, clothed in all black, and smiled sadly at the girl sitting by herself with nothing to hold her to this world.
yet she couldn’t leave.
“You’ve finally come for me?” she peered into his grey eyes, watched as he gazed around the shop as though he’d seen what it was before it all died with her mother.
“Not yet,” He whispered, “You’ve much to learn about the world you left prematurely.”
“Are you always this kind?” perhaps this was his own form of punishment. it was cruel in her eyes that hyeri could see all the flowers she loved, yet she could no longer see them for what they were. His smile turned into a thin line because he knew, somewhere in that unbeating heart of hers, that there was a beat that still needed to drum one last time.
“I’ll come fetch you when it’s time.” He waltzed over to the broken marigolds, plucked it up into his hand, and she watched as the dried petals fled onto the dusted floorboards. “For now, learn a little more. Love a little more.”
“Is that possible?”
“The world tells you I don’t exist, but I’m here.” he sighed, taking three steps to get to where she was. she hadn’t expected him to watch her as tears fell from her eyes. she reached out for his hand, afraid of the coldness that came from them because it had matched her own. He let her take the withered marigold from his grasp, watching as she pulled her arms close to her chest.
“do you know what marigolds are for?” He didn’t make a move to say a word. instead he frowned because he had known far longer than she was ever alive. “Some people use them to celebrate the dead, but what is death if it isn’t final?”
unfair and cruel to children like us.
morning: it rose as the sun kissed the horizon, but the tall buildings had blocked the sun from entering the shop. the sun had forgotten to say hello, unable to see that jieun was still here. she was invisible to the world, but the world had never loved her the way she did.
“flower for your thoughts?” Hyeri held out a withered daisy, a wide smile on her face. “I picked the prettiest one for you. I saw it on my way here.”
it was then that jieun realized that everything that entered the shop would wither just as her mother’s flowers did. death was in the air, yet hyeri could see none of it. sometimes jieun wondered if the girl was a figment of her own imagination, but she was desperate for anything to keep her company.
“Thank you.” she hid the wince on her face as best she could, but the strained words were too rough, too harsh to be anything but discomfort. Hyeri looked at her with concern, a soft ‘are you all right?’ leaving her lips and all she could do was give her a ghost of a smile.
“I’m all right.” She held the flower in her hand, setting it down on the counter that separate the two of them from one another. “Would you like to know more about daisies?”
night: there were nights that were harder than others, nights where she cursed at the moon and threw the vases that held the flowers to the ground. they shattered in a chaotic muteness, her screams overpowering the clash of fragile material and the ground.
it had taken so much energy to pretend for her, draining all that she was and reduced her to an even more transparent version of herself. she fell unceremoniously to the ground with her hands on her stomach, sweat causing strands of her hair to press against her forehead. her chest heaved up and down, but the thumping in her chest did not drum in her ears as they would have if she was still a part of something greater.
she was lesser now.
“It isn’t fair.” She whispered, pressing her palms against her eyelids. “Why can’t I leave?”
She was so cold now. not from the wind that crept in from the broken windows, but the warmth of her body had disappeared. nothing made her warm, and perhaps it was a reason why she held hyeri’s hand for longer than she should have. but her hands had been so warm, so full of life, that she almost missed being real.
that she almost missed being greater.
“Jieun?” The bell twinkled, ringing in her ears as she glanced from the ceiling and toward the entrance that had been to her right. The girl was by her side in an instant, frantically looking at whatever it was that was on her. “Are you okay? What happened to the shop?”
“Can I hold your hand?” Jieun reached up, her hand moving from her stomach and toward hyeri to grab hold onto something that would make sense. She had made sense, but the the look on her eyes told her that something that broken in her. “Your hand, Hyeri. Please.”
The girl stuttered, too unsure of what was happening, but she had obliged her request. Her hand had made her feel warm, pushing the cold into the depths of a place she would know of soon, but for now it was all she needed to understand. “Can I do anything to help?”
“This is enough.” Jieun smiled at the girl, watched as tears fell from her cheeks that almost reminded her of the way her mother looked at her all that time ago. “Rest with me, Hyeri.”
the brokenness of the shop meant nothing. though it had torn her apart, it was her home now.
Morning: Hyeri woke to the sun hitting her face. it made her wince, unsure of how the sun could have ever blinded her with the buildings that kept the shop in the shade. When her eyes adjusted, she glanced around the shop to see what she had seen the night before: dust collected floorboards, broken windows, and withered flowers. the colorful pop of the shop was no longer here, and all she saw was grey.
“I wanted to stay until you were awake.” She heard the voice from behind her, turning to see jieun lay with a mysterious smile on her face. it wasn’t like the smiles before before. no, these were real. these were hers.
“Was this what you saw when I came here?” Jieun nodded, and it was all she had to do for hyeri to break down.
“Why are you crying?”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” She smiled, cold hand on top of hers, stealing her warmth in some attempt to remember it when she was gone. she wondered if this was the time for her to be strong for hyeri, her chance to be greater to someone rather than something.
“Not anymore.” She could feel it in her bones. she felt lighter, slowly becoming part of the air that not even hyeri’s keen eyes could find her in the smoke. jieun finally understood why the sun stopped greeting her. how can the sun greet what isn’t there? “Sorry I won’t be able to greet you anymore and tell you about the flowers.”
2 out of 2 for @inhyelation, she writes to you when she’s gone.
kihyun was like the color of the sky that only a few ever paid attention to. he was a casual kind of beauty that people took for granted. she'd look at him when he wasn't looking, watched as the sun adorned the curves of his face and hide pieces of himself from her. but when he turned and looked at her, she could see that there wasn't anything hidden from her.
he could try, but he couldn't hide the look of guilt in his eyes or the regret that lingers behind his ears. it was always there, but he played with his smile to make her feel something for the brother she lost that she found in him. it wasn't fair in any instant, so she compared herself to the sky adorned with red that people. she never lasted as long as what people wanted her to last. she was a passing glance, but kihyun lingered on your skin and touched your heart with his secret smiles.
but being from the same sky, somehow no one ever loved her the way kihyun loved her with all his heart. even if it hurt, he tried. because he was just like her brother, probably even more like her brother than the one she used to know.
"It's okay, you know." they sat beside one another, their legs dangling off the edge of the building. she slid her hand on top of his, reminding him that she was going to be more than just the broken, fragile girl she was when she confessed her ocean to him. He looked at her with a peculiar look, head tilting as she grinned and let the side of her head rest on his shoulder.
"You don't have to pretend." She whispered, the cold nipping at her nose as she sighed. somehow, she found comfort in the white cloud of cold air in frnt of her. it disappeared just as quickly as it came, reminded that kihyun was the same sky as her. he lingered. he stayed. and he wouldn't go. "We have all your life to know what it means to be us again, so it's okay if we hurt each other. it doesn't make me love you any less that you have thorns that will prick me."
She gave his hand a squeeze because she wanted to remind him that she would linger, stay, and wouldn't leave without him. "and I hope you don't hide it when I've hurt you."
a flower that falls like thundering rain // @consilian
minnie was a creature of habit. particularly bad ones, but predictable nonetheless. it was always hard to give up something, especially things that brought warmth and filled The Void ( stylized with a capital v because it is eternal and permanent and a friend because it has become a part of her. ) and jieun became one as time stretched on. it started with a simple story, because the girl has plenty, as well as an abundance of patience to sit through her onslaught of questions that usually ensue after hearing the ending. both were never very good when it came to strangers, but she felt an audible click when they met – a sound that indicated that something misaligned had finally fell into place. if minnie could think of herself as a believer of faith and destiny, she’d think that the two were bound to cross paths at one point. where she was rough and jagged, jieun was always soft and smooth, so minnie thought by association one day she, too, could become soft.
a form of adoration blossomed for jieun. maybe not adoration, that was putting it too lightly, but it was something desperate and filled with hope ( always hope because jieun taught her that not all stories come with happy endings, and sometimes hope is all you have at the end. ) but she never wanted to impose such fragile feelings onto the other, so she kept it bottled inside, though it never festered, more so tinged the poisoned bits in her and made them well again.
but now she believes that perhaps her admiration was manifesting into something greater because now she swore she was inside jieun’s head. quite literally. she’s looking at jieun’s reflection in the mirror, but it’s not really jieun, it’s minnie, but its also simultaneously jieun. physically she could see the refraction staring back at her, the spitting image of jieun (and herself?) but she could also physically see the other standing in front of the mirror. the whole situation has her head throbbing in both frustration and confusion, and she isn’t sure if she should be feeling worried or flat out afraid.
“is this a dream? a vision?” the whole situation isn’t completely farfetched, because really, even she is at a loss with what she sees most of the time, but the strong presence of knowing that she was right there at that moment, but simultaneously not, is something she’d never experienced before. “i think that its a dream, because you’re not really here, are you? tell me, other jieun, what words of wisdom do you have for me today? have you come to remind me of the devil’s prophecy, because i can assure you that i know what it wants.”
jieun was a curious person. living so long created a burning desire to know more, to discover truth beneath fragments of fairy tales. she figured it was a defense mechanism to thirst after knowledge as though it was her only hope that as long as she kept searching, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. that perhaps one day she'll wake up and she'll be twelve laying in the green grass of the backyard she spent most of her hours running in. it was the child in her that wished for this, believing that perhaps she slumbered for too long, and she'll wake up to her mother's smile.
but she spent so many days waking up to a darkness that flooded her eyes. there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and some mornings, she'd look into the mirror for too long to see the bags under her eyes. she'd look at herself and see how time has hollowed her body out, yet she was still beautiful to the people around her.
it was then that she heard a voice in her head, sounding like an angel that was heaven sent. it was a whisper that sounded familiar but also completely alien to her. she blinked and she saw an image of someone who wasn't her, but blinked again and saw herself. it was strange, and she walked closer to the mirror to get a better look at the eyes that looked upon her own.
"Minnie?" Her voice was louder than she expected as her finger tips touch the surface of the mirror. it's cold against her skin, but the realization that she wasn't alone made her gasp. had anyone ever seen the wreckage of her soul as intimately as minnie being her? It was a question with an obvious answer, but she swallowed her doubt and smiled more for hope than anything else.
"Oh, Minnie. We've gone and done something unbelievable again." She tucked strands of her hair behind her ear, sighing heavily before sitting in front of the mirror with her legs criss-crossed. "I'm at a bit of a loss for words for this."
Somehow the hollowed pieces of her seemed to be filling out with whatever connection minnie and jieun had now. it was crazy, but they were a duo that broke borders and made pathways. no matter how unconventional they were.
"You're here, and I'm here. We're looking through the same window now.” She paused, tilting her head. “The question is, how do we keep the window from breaking?"
then: she was a woman with no solidarity, living in a world that had already forgotten the color of her eyes. no one ever came to visit. no one ever cried for a girl who loved and gave too much. they'd taken her love and let it die on their tongues. she was sweet, they'd say. but that was all she was. a sweet girl who lived for flowers, spurred on by colors that entrapped her mind until it was too late to tell her that this wasn't where she belonged.
but the flower shop on the corner of the town was all that she had.
(it was all she had until it wasn’t.)
home: it was made of cream walls that had vines on them from plants that had grown far too big to sell. it was made of wood that creaked against the drumming of the rain. it was dusty, yet the sun made sure to say hello each morning. she remembered it then, how the sun was the only one to come say goodbye when her body ached too much to say hello back.
then: she watched as her mother cried herself to sleep, abandoning the one thing that had brought her joy. now she felt something harsh tug against the strings of her violin, strumming a song that no could longer bring vibrancy back into those four cream colored walls. all she could do was watch when her mother cried herself to sleep for the last time. all she could do was hope that she'd be reunited with her, feel the warmth of her mother's touch on her skin. but it never happened. jieun had stayed, watching as her home withered just as her mother once did, but now she was truly alone. now she had no one but the company of dead flowers and a sun that had long forgotten her.
now: she twitched, opening her eyes at the light that blinded her. in front of her was a silhouette of a petite girl walk cautiously into her home. she believed her eyes were playing tricks on her. perhaps someone was going to take her home and make it theirs. but the girl paused then started walking closer until jieun could see the outlines on her face. her smile was so pretty, and she didn't know what to do when she opened her mouth and spoke as though she could see her.
She never would've thought that she truly did see a girl long forgotten.
"Are you the owner?" jieun paused, unsure of what to say. it had to be some sort of twisted joke by the gods watching her. they must’ve been laughing at her misfortune. "You have such a pretty flower shop. I couldn't help but come in." if the girl was lying, jieun was unable to tell. the look of genuine curiosity was far too strong in her round eyes to be telling anything but the truth.
"I'm the owner's daughter." She finally replied slowly, imagining what the girl could possibly see in a home that had been wrecked by time and nature. She could hardly believe she was real, but the girl could see and speak to her as though she was. Was this her redemption? "Jieun."
"Hyeri," She smiled widely. her eyes were twinkling, shining as the light hit her face that made her skin glow and the apples of cheeks turn pink. "I'd like to learn more about flowers. Would you help me?"
she fought the chaos that ravaged her head, glancing down at her hands to see if she was truly there. There had to be something she was missing. a link in a chain that had broken off, and that was why she was here: drowning in time as though it was her creator.
“Yes.” But she was desperate for any sort of interaction, even if it meant not understanding the entirety of who she was. even if she let the chaos take over and let the wreckage seep into the ground beneath her. she’d let the chaos plant its seed if it meant she could grow with it.
1 of 2 for @inhyelation, a story of a flower shop on the corner where the sun once set.
They speak of a world parallel to reality, one of unknown grounds and nonexistent skies, where there is no physical representation of what lies underneath the surface – it is fascinating that one can grasp the essence through mere words. Words and observation. Ah, yes, those eagle orbs pursing an edge on each and every step she takes into the conversation, so much so that a few shattered fragments slit delicate palms.
“Then stop trying to get those scattered pieces together. They are gone, claimed by nature.” It is a brusque statement, however a belief he does not dare to abandon itches under thick skin.
So he turns to fantasy, as per usual, into a logic that may perhaps be deemed as idiotic by most, and yet in his eyes it glows like a treasure on an altar. ”Have you tried moulting? Like an angel. They lose feathers at a certain point, something that is part of them, but then new ones come to take their place and shape those creatures into something way more dazzling than before. You abandon what is meant to be left in the past and embrace the new to improve yourself.” (Purge the sins of your soul.)
”Broken pieces will only injure you, after all.” Injure and destroy, that is.
The shape of a bitter smile tugs at sculptured edges as slender arms cross over his chest, the sudden shift of focus on the conversation to draw curious eyes to him dragging a grunt from the depths of stringed lungs. Baekhyun has never been one to talk about himself – it is too troublesome, but oh well. “I would like to think that my colors have their own intensity. They are aggressive, so to speak, but oscillate ever so often as well.” A palm rises in order to entangle lithe fingers with a sweet breeze rushing by, almost as if he was sewing fictional strings up and down into a blank canvas. “I broke away from stereotypes and I built a world of my own. I live life the way I desire with no need to please a latter. I make music with my heart and soul and paint the ambient with thrilling shades.”
And then there’s laughter, dry and hoarse, before a palm may naturally come to conceal the sound for a moment or two. How ridiculous does he sound by now? Who the hell cares. “Then again, that is just my perspective of myself. The eyes of the reader carry their own truth, so it can vary as for what I see as my own colors and and what you may see.”
they were two completely different people in a world that had made them who they were. defiant in all their ways, paying to a world that they no longer owed anything to. she had paid her debt, bearing scars that she should have never had to bear. she always wondered why they had stung whenever she thought of them, how they vibrate against her skin and made her uncomfortable. it didn't help that he had looked at her as though he knew the secrets she kept from everything.
perhaps this was a debt she still owed to the world.
"Fair," she admitted. she tiptoed around the sharp edges of his words, moved in a way that they would not hurt her. she gave him a waning smile, brushed the pieces of the shattered pieces that became dust off her shoulders. he spoke of something that was not understood by most, forced into a fantasy that she knew was more than that, because it spoke the most truth. because it had been better to offer this than anything else, and she was unsure whether she should be thankful or place his words in the back of her mind for a day where her skies trembled with rain.
"Have you?" She turned the question around, wondered if this was how he operated. the renewal of the self in a way that made you an entirely different person was unheard of. people were never meant to forget who they were. but she doubted he meant it the way she thought. to embrace was to accept, but to accept something so different, was that something the gods could ever give to the people?
it didn’t make sense to her that he could do all of this, create a world of his own, and still prosper in a world that wasn’t his. but even then, a world within an even larger world meant he was still a part of something greater. he was a part of something that had taken, bruised, and punished them for who they were. yet here he was, still as defiant as probably the first day he decided to be his own color. Maybe even more so.
“Colors are a fickle thing in their own sense.” She finally replied, intertwining her hands together and neatly placing them in front of her. “But then again, so are most people.” she saw hues of dark shades of red and blue flicker in his eyes, pops of purple appearing out of nowhere and then disappearing all at once. “They say colors have their own meaning. What’s yours if you could put it into words?”
funny how her own mood seemed to color everything else. the sunlight appeared paler, bluer. inside the bookstore, sleep loomed in every corner, but she brushes it aside while weaving through the rows of bound literature. “i like it better when heroes die in the end.” she announces from somewhere behind a tall stack, fingers tracing one book spine to another, seeking nothing in particular– and merely waiting for something to catch her fancy.
mornings such as this one are rare. her schedule has grown tighter and her need for solitude, stronger. she chalks it up to tiredness, the fact that most people exhaust her, and her mind that simply won’t rest. but jieun was the exception in such cases, wasn’t she? she’s the first name that comes to mind whenever haneul is seeking solitude, but would rather not be left alone.
she sneaks a glance at the other girl then, smiling to herself after spotting the familiar silhouette. “and do try the pastries. i wasn’t sure of the kind you liked best so i got one each.”
The entirety of the room seemed to be colored in a pale yellow, similar to the way the sun rises in the morning after a long period of rain. it was calming, even more so than the books that withered from being forgotten yet never replaced by another book to take its spot.
she wondered if the owner would ever replace the old books in the back aisle, but he would always smile at her and say 'someone hasn't forgotten them, they just need to be patient.' she wanted to live by that mantra, move away from being so scared and withered to become someone who was patient and loved. she wanted more than just the blue hues she could ever. she wanted to be like the pale yellow the other girl seem to exude each time they were together.
"People get angry when the good guy dies," she sighed. "Even if they died bravely. people just get so unsatisfied by that." she pushed her hair behind her shoulder, looking down at the small pastries that were brought to her. they were such delicate little things that she almost forgot they were made to be consumed.
"You know how they say 'history is written by the victors'? Well, can't we say the same things about the hero? Are they the hero, and the protagonist of the story, because they were victorious?" She took a bite of the fruit tart, nibbling on the crumbs before speaking again. "What if the villain had won? What if they weren't as bad as the stories made them out to be."
picture this: the smell of rain, messy hair clinging to our skin and hands tightly intertwined in the hopes of not losing one another in the midst of so many unknown faces. mother said not to come home too late and here we are, quivering and worn out with not enough money in our pockets to afford what little food the others are waiting for at home.
you bite down on your lower lip in frustration and i swallow my tears. you’re not much older than i am but you’re home in a way the others could never be. your knuckles turn white around my hand and it begins to hurt. when i whimper, you snap back into reality and through the haze of thick rain and cold, i see your features softening.
you don’t say anything but your grip loosens. we both know you didn’t mean it that way.
ii. there’s a life only one of us remembers now.
there’s nothing touching about the way i don’t remember your face, or the space between your ribcage that yearns to beat once more. you’re here but sometimes i wonder, are you really? there are times i catch you looking so heartbroken, it makes me feel wistful for a past i no longer recall. how much did we matter to each other in this life that no longer exists?
would it be easier if i made the first step and asked you to share memories i don’t possess? how much would it hurt to realize you’re talking to a stranger bearing the face of a loved one? would you hate me if i told you i don’t remember what we used to be?
“it’s okay,” you say once, through silent tears rolling down your cheeks. it’s not the first time i see you crying but my heart aches and i wish i could remember. you hold out your hand instead, your grip careful and gentle when you squeeze mine.
for one fleeting moment, we are at peace.
iii. there is a life we can learn how to build together.
this, you teach me when you call on a friday evening. mindless chattering and a little bit of how was your day and i just really wanted to talk to you paints the image of what we should be striving for. we don’t talk about the things we can’t change, the things that are buried somewhere in an ancient past but, somewhere between all of these cracks, we can learn how to fill in the blanks.
when you take the first step, i decide to do the same. / @cespires.
