ââŠon the other hand, iâm a very light sleeper. when i first moved into my apartment, even the creaking of the wood floors would wake me up.â she recalls this with a laugh, a hint of nostalgia for when everything felt new to her. independence was an adventure, living alone was a dreamâ until it slowly became lonely. happiness, it seemed to her, was always fleeting in the end. as with all good things. itâs this nature that makes it even more special, she supposes. like this moment they were now sharing; a seasonâs end, uncertainty lingering in the air.Â
even now she harbors a quiet dread for the inevitable. home seems so empty compared to this; to having company. to laughing freely and forgetting any nagging worryâ if only for a few hours; hours which she wishes could stretch on and on. but if thereâs one thing sheâs learnt about loneliness, itâs that it follows. she can hop on a plane going anywhere and still feel that weight after the thrill of it all has subsided. itâs inexplicable yet familiar. youâll get used to it, haneul. itâs fine.Â
the sky shifts as the evening progresses, the sound of his voice adding color to the horizonâs darkening palette. âlee minho isnât really my type.â she corrects him, clicking her tongue in feigned distaste. following the path heâs created carefully, though she finds herself unable to look away from the scenery before them. ââŠstill, you should have said hello. i was waiting for you.â she smiles, smally, half hidden in shadow. unsure of what to do or say nextâ something about the rest of his words had her feeling on edge.Â
and haneul knows it could all be in her head. melancholy tends to seep into everything, and sheâs ever vulnerable to its effects. needless worry. restlessness. thinking of the worst. the exhausting cycle. still, she puts on a facade of calmness, nodding to him as she takes his hand with both of hers. a gentle, reassuring squeeze. surely this is more of a comfort to her than it is to him, but in that moment, anything that would keep her grounded would suffice.
âif you say so. i trust that should i faint, youâll catch me before i break anything. deal?â
Oblivion. Itâs peacefulâmore so than anything else. It is why he lives the way that he does; why he drinks to the point of blacking out (and blocking out; his feelings most of all).
Thereâs few things in this world that Casper doesnât know how to handle. He has his way with solving riddles and getting out of the most impossible situations. Ask him anything and he will be able to find an answer. It is part of the genes he inherited from his dearly beloved father, really, but the demigod just likes to think that he is smart. However, there is one thing he has never learned how to decode, and that is as frustrating to him as much as it is confusing.
So what does he do? He avoids having to deal with it altogether. Itâs always worked out fine for him (but much like everything else in life, there is a limit to how long one can keep running).
And heâs gotten there. Heâs reachedâno crossed that line. Heâs crossed it many years ago when his mother was first admitted to the hospital and there had been nobody to turn to. Kept on running still, and when he found himself unable to ignore the aching any longer, he numbed it with alcohol. He ran and he drank, and drank, and drank. One would wonder how he could possibly still be alive, but again, he should be thanking his fatherâs genes for that.
( Â âI need to talk to her.â
      âSir, she might not wake up anymoreââ
âLet me in, sheâll wake up when she hears my voice.â
      âWe cannot let anyone in at this moment.â
âIt wasnât a question. Let me in or Iâll find my own way in.â
      âAs always, we are doing all that we can, but we cannot allow any visitors right now.â
âI told you Iâd find my way in.â
      âSecurity?!â  )
Sometimes it is better not to have the answers to everything. As the ever so popular saying goes: ignorance is bliss, after all. A heartâs only as heavy as one allows it to become. The mind can be easily silenced, too. Alcohol is his friend; rationality is not. Even then, there is a limit. Itâs been days since he had last taken some proper rest, and barely an hour since he had last finished yet another bottle of liquor. It has become hard to distinguish what is real from what is not; even harder to walk in a straight line. His mind tells him to sleep before he breaks, but the voice is no more than a distant whisper in the far back of his head. The threats he had made to the hospital had been no more than just that: threats. It seemed that even his powers had started to fail him, and he had been kicked out before he could do so much as try. Hallucinations are next in line, he assumes, and so he can only scoff at the sound of a voice that is far too familiar (even in this state, it triggers feelings buried deep within).
Heâll ignore it, and it will go away. Ten seconds. Twenty. Twenty-five. Fruitlessâin fact, her image seems to grow all the more vivid as seconds pass (and then he gives in to temptation, once again).
His mind is blank, but his heart, for once, is not. A silent cry for help, and the golden luck that runs through his veins to lead him to the one person he doesnât only want by his side, but also the only person he truly needs. Frankly, he should be more grateful to his father and his damned genesâbut if it wasnât for him, would he ever be in this position in the first place?
âHaneul-ah.â Itâs almost naturally that his fingers slip around her wrist and pull her towards him. His hold on her is tight; afraid that none of it is real, or that she might just slip away again. âYouâre really here. I need to talk to you.â The sudden movements cause him to lose his balance for a split second, but it is enough to have him crashing into the person standing beside her. Still, he doesnât do so much as glance at him, nor does he notice that the moment is anything but an appropriate one. He doesnât care, either. Doesnât don him any explanation when he tugs her into the opposite direction. âCome with me, it is important.â And it is. No matter how hard he tries not to feel, his eyes tell everything that his heart cannot; they beg for her to please just listen. Is it selfish? Definitely so, but when had he ever claimed himself not to be in the first place?