The words seeped into his ears with a coat of secrecy, a silent vow to confidentiality. Han treated it as if it was a forbidden story only meant for his ears, and with a solemn smile he listened. Listened to the way Minseok’s cadence changed, the way his voice almost faltered, cracked under the heavy sadness that the words carried. “I-I’m sorry,” was all his own stuttering lips managed to offer as his steps took a lower stepped, weighed down by the topic of conversation. Perhaps it hadn’t been best to catch up, ever story he’d managed to hear up to that moment had always encumbered positivity or any form of mirth when the timeline would reach the apocalypse—or the mere taste they’d all received. Yet the air around them and the way the clouds floated in front of the sun and washed the colors around them with a less deafening tone, tinting each color with a serene hue and softening the harsh shadows the sun had created made the tall blonde realize there wasn’t much time to ponder upon the past. It was an ocean filled with what-ifs and possibilities that could never be true, simple regrets and mistakes damned with the knowledge of the present, but he wouldn’t allow it. There was no way to erase the past and replace it with one more favorable, but the gift they’d received of having life was one he wouldn’t take for granted. So many deaths and so little survivors didn’t allow much festivity or cheerfulness but he was sure he would grasp each chance that he got.
With the new philosophy he was quietly creating with each step he took towards the promised shelter—a half destroyed hotel he’d found with a comfortable room surprisingly free of much debris and ruin, necessitating only the slightest of cleaning—he ran his tongue over his drying lips, formulating his words carefully. “I was at a job interview,” he began with a less than hopeful tone, but definitely brighter than the one he would normally use to recount his tale, “I was finally going to work as a gym teacher—remember I would tell you I’d be the world’s best soccer player? I still thought I was the best, but I’d long shelved my dreams of fame for a much simpler and comfortable life in Seoul as a gym teacher at the local middle school near my apartment. But just as I was shaking the principal’s hand—of course everything went well—I heard a loud crash, and then even more sounds followed. They were horrible, deafening, each one followed by more screams—and that was the good part. It wasn’t until the screams started becoming less frequent that I realized I missed them—I mean, that meant people were alive, right?! But when they stopped they were dying, not that I noticed. All I could see in my eyes was the image of my parents—my sister, Minseok! She was only fifteen. I could see them still at home, laughing over a TV show. I was so sure they’d be safe, but I still ran as fast as I could. I was out of breath when I finally reached them, I—”
His lips quivered as his eyes became moist with tears, his vision becoming a blurry mess. He could feel the way his heart beat with an elevated rhythm, the acrid taste of imagined smoke in the air. It felt like he was back there, with the symphony of people’s screams, the wailing of sirens, the distant crashing of buildings. They had all formed together to sing the most cruel song that ever rang through his ears. Helplessness was what broke him down and made him aware of the cuts on his legs, the way his shirt had ripped with the pieces of debris that were sent flying through the air. Even then it had all been a dull mockery of his senses, all he could truly feel was the wood under his fists and the way it burned him, teased him with the knowledge of the strong fire forcing his past into the flames. But he couldn’t mention that, no. It was a new life, a new day, and he’d convinced himself that he’d gotten over what happened—that it hadn’t been his fault. “The house had burned down with them inside after a nearby gas leak and explosion,” he finished after his voice had regained its composure and he felt the heat against his face. Not of the fire but of the uncovered sun, the crude reality dragging him back to the present and what his thoughts should have been preoccupied on.
"We should be there soon, I have some water and food stored there if you’re hungry—it’s not feast like we used to have, but it’ll do for now."
