[[ these inconvenient fireworks ]]
jihyoxmi:
[. . .]
“I’m not strong enough,” she says softly, muttering to herself as she turns her head away from him and stares into space. She knows he’s not the one at fault, and while she doesn’t blame him, she couldn’t help the suffocating feeling in her chest whenever she remembers how cold he was in responding to her, and how seemingly determined he was in chasing her out to another new place as long as she’s not in his sight.
Her eyelids feel heavy as drowsiness begins to set in and she soon drifts off to sleep, except this time she isn’t able to have a proper rest, nightmares coming over to visit her in her slumber. “No, don’t leave me…… don’t … –AH!” She wakes up in sheer terror, sitting up on the bed and gasping for air, memories of the nightmares so freshly imprinted in her mind that her body couldn’t stop trembling.
“Oppa? Oppa don’t go…” She chokes pleadingly while desperately trying to clutch onto his shirt, all her inhibition temporary gone at the moment for she couldn’t distinguish the blurring line between reality and nightmare.
He holds the bowl in his hands a little helplessly as she turns around and says she’s not strong enough, feeling lost to reply. She was stronger than anyone he ever met and he loathed that she couldn’t see it. That maybe she couldn’t see it because of the life he forced her into. When it became clear she was done talking and eating, he silently gathered everything from the table, letting her sleep.
Her words still whirled in his head. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough for what? Those simple, soft words wouldn’t leave him alone. (How often had he thought the same thing? How often had he cleaned up the blood and thought I’m not strong enough and endured anyway. How often had he wished for someone to see it, to tell him it was all right. Sometimes you’re not strong enough because what they’re asking of you is simply too much -- sometimes weakness is the only sign of sanity you feel.)
He found himself preparing another soup for her so next time she could have more choice, trying to distract himself from the uneasy feeling restless in his bones. (He knows, better than most, that it’s the choices of others that really dictate your life, that you have no control over it, no say in it, and he keeps thinking of Jihyo dragging her suitcase down the hall, Jihyo saying I’m not strong enough.)
He hears her restless muttering and enters the room again to make sure she didn’t accidentally pull out her IV in her sleep, carefully sitting down on the edge of her bed. He frowned slightly when he started to be able to make out words, freezing when he realized what they were.
Was she dreaming of her family, hoping they’d still come for her? Was she dreaming of being free of him?
(And why, of all things, did that freeze the blood in his bones, did it tear at the sutures of his heart? What else would a girl taken from her life dream of?)
He should leave. He should leave and tell her she could go back if that is what she wanted. If she told on him, then so be it. His life had long since been lost, but there was something inside him screaming he could never have Jihyo lose it the same way. He didn’t want to take it from her.
But then she shot up, and suddenly she was in his arms, clinging to him, saying oppa, and he didn’t know what to do with any of it. He just held her, as in reflex, as in deep-rooted instinct, holding her carefully, gently against his chest.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” The words leave his lips and he feels them with a sudden fierceness in his bones, in his heart. He would never let this world hurt her like it had hurt him.
