please be okay.
the first time she hears of it is on the bus. it’s a little past 4:30, too early, but she listens half-heartedly, barely hanging onto the words. it’s too early in the morning for small talk, she thinks. but she smiles, half-heartedly, and nods to the words thrown her way. they continue talking and jihyun has half the mind to believe that the other doesn’t entirely register jihyun falling in and out of consciousness. exhaustion was an annoying thing, but it was also one of her greatest weaknesses. too much work followed by too little sleep, it could only lead to a disastrously exhausted morning after. so, she assumes the position, pretending to listen as her eyes gently slide closed, head drooping against the window, resting for a while. the words that float about unheard, unacknowledged and unknown to the trainee; her mind had other things in mind.
the second time she hears of it is when they’re said in passing, to anyone who was willing to listen, to answer -- to adhere to a situation that jihyun had no idea about. she doesn’t understand, especially when half-way through the story, she’s turning down the hallway, asking another person what just happened? only to be met with anxious stares and a deliriously frightening sigh, “what is it?” she repeats once more, not understanding the other’s reaction to her own question, a simple question that, like many things these days, seemed to only bring forth complicated answers. there’s nothing to say, like her, they’re just as speechless. whether it was because they didn’t know how to tell jihyun or know exactly where to start, either way would yield similar setbacks.
it’s what leads her to the third ( but never the last ) time she hears of it, she feels sick to her stomach. eyes are permanently glued to the small screen at the other side of the room; the normalcy of chattering trainees were a figment of the past that day. no one had any words, it was more actions than anything else. watching the way waves crashed along abundant streets; taking disaster wherever it could. the cars and buildings an unmatched strength against the heavy waters that swarmed them, the winds that blew down from the heavens shook the footage, rattling it, blurring the scenes. it was disheartening; an unknowing clench of the fist as she stares, deliberately hypnotized by the newscast.
“we have reports that at least three have been found dead by typhoon chaba,” the words alone has her frightened, dark hues finally leaving the screen; downcast for the remainder of the broadcast.
it’s only when she feels the nudge along her shoulder does she rise. back to schedules, she hears someone say -- but the lingering notion of fear sunk deep within her. then it dawns her, where white fills beige flesh and lips are left agape. hand immediately reaching for her phone as she flees into the halls, fingers immediately rampant along her contacts.
phone to ear -- “hello, sojung?” she’s quick in her approach, nearly exhausted when she hears the other answer her. jihyun can feel the hoarse tone her voice takes on; a quiver before the tears. a breathe before relief or devastation. “are you okay?” it’s softer now, deeper in tone but the softest of whispers as she cradles the phone in her hands; leaving the halls for the stairwell. dim lighting and hollow echoes emerge as she speaks in hushed tones.
“i’m fine, the power just went out. are you okay where you are?” and jihyun can’t help but laugh, eyes crinkling despite the concern that framed her hues. of course sojung would worry about jihyun before she even thought of herself, it was just like her.
“of course i’m fine, i’m not the one who had a typhoon literally blow my city away. are you sure you’re okay? and the power is off -- do you guys have any flashlights? is your mom okay?” she’s hasty, making sure everything -- everyone is accounted for after her call with sojung. relieved to know that most of her loved ones had been found, looked after and taken care of. it was a relief.
until she realizes, daehyun --
the alarming thought shoots through her, rippling tenfold as she scatters to get the phone ringing; it has her running trembling fingertips through her hairline, the unsteady tone returns to her voice when she hears her call go to voicemail -- daehyun’s cheerful voice entering her eardrums. fingers rattle against her knees, eyes squeezed shut because answer the damn phone, daehyun! but when the beep for his voicemail becomes all too clear after the nth try, she’s nearing a breakdown. her own tone becoming blunt and direct, desperate and shaky all the same. “hello -- daedae, where are you? are you okay? please answer your phone, i just need to know that you’re okay.” please be okay.
