there’s something to be said about mothers. how overbearing they tend be, how attentive, how sweet and how stubborn. yisol herself hasn’t spoken to her own in over a week—she knows, that’s on her—she’s the ungrateful child who left her mother alone in a barren house filled with unsavory memories. she’s the bad daughter who hadn’t been able to call her back nor make plans to visit for the holidays in the year and chump change she’s been in ville city. but residency is difficult for a reason and sufficed as a suitable excuse not to just as much.
what can i say? just like how mom’s folded into herself since the divorce, yisol has long outgrown the need for mother’s loving touch.
and it didn’t help that she’s welcomed dad back into her life (though, really, when did he leave? when had there ever been a day in which decisions made aren’t influenced by him in either a glaringly obvious way or another?)—him and the chunk of money he put into her tuition.
but, we’re not here to touch base on dad’s and the mess they’ve made out of their daughters. we’re here to talk about mothers. more specifically, we’re here to talk about @xdowonx’s mother. how she, bright eyed and brilliant and unstoppable force to her immovable object, had dragged yisol from the hospital straight to her apartment.
words exchanged: ‘you’re so thin, yisol-ah.’ ‘ah, really?’ ‘do you even eat?’ ‘when i have time i-’ ‘come over tonight, you must let me feed you.’ ‘but-’ ‘no buts.’
so, here they are. here she is, sat at a table stacked too generously for two. unable to contain the growing unease tickling the back of her throat with every piece of jeon and meat that the older piles onto her bowl, quadrupling with every mention of her son that slips out of her lips.
ah, yes. min dowon. min dowon, whom she hasn’t spoke to since high school. min dowon, who either ducks from her line of sight or bores holes into the back of her head from a safe distance at the hospital. min dowon, who she had an interest in knowing. but does that even make sense? for her to be in his mother’s place despite all that.
again, unstoppable force.
but at least. at. the. least, yisol thinks, lips forming a tight smile while the woman prattles off about their grade school days, it’s just us.
ah. her chopsticks still, unconsciously straightening up in her seat with the creak of the front door. the deep timbre that follows has the hairs on the back of her neck bristling, smile thinning out in the face of ajumeoni’s obvious elation. fuck me.
“ah, dowon-ah! you’re just in time to join us for dinner.”
fuck, goddammit. fuck! she bites the inside of her cheek, head turning slow to set her gaze on her long-time-no-longer-friendly friend and for the sake of both of them (but especially his mother), yisol manages a smile in greeting.
“hey, dowon. s’been a minute.” her right brow twitches, the more pressing question on her tongue left unasked. why didn’t you tell your mom we’re not friends anymore?
