CHAPTER TWO
( Curl Up & Die )

JAEHWA DOESN'T REMEMBER how she died. She remembers being torn apart to some extent, knees bloody and head spinning the way it would when she rides a carousel — Not that she ever remembers riding one — The smell of gasoline that permeates her lungs, and the deafening screech that follows after.

It must have been a car, Jaehwa reasons to herself. That's the only logical explanation.

She imagines herself a lifeless corpse splayed on the asphalt, fumes from the exhaust pipe filling her deflating lungs — A painter's vivid imagination is her nightmare, and Jaehwa shakes the appalling thought from her mind. 

The scar that pulses an ugly rhythm in the back of her head stays a reminder of what Jaehwa had lost. Her fingers constantly itch to soothe the burn that seeps beneath the stitches, squirming its way through her brain and devouring all that Cha Jaehwa is.

It is that same pain that tears her away from the arms of slumber, twisting her already misshapen body into a tangled mess of damp sheets and sticky flesh.

Like routine, Jaehwa peels the bedsheets off her sweaty body and sits up. Her feet land on the cool wooden tiles, and she brings a hand to further heat her warm face.

Seventeen brings along everything it shouldn't — Headaches and frowns and an all too familiar feeling that Cha Jaehwa doesn't belong.

Bitter resentment holds Jaehwa warmly, too warmly for a morning in early September, and the teen feels the back of her head prick again.

Maybe if she ignores the sweat that crawls down her shoulder blades and the hand that gently caresses her scar, Cha Jaehwa can fall back asleep and pretend that she is fine. But everyone knows she is not, and that is something she must learn to live with.

The settling pinpricks of perspiration begin to cool and the hairs on Jaehwa's arms stand as a shiver wracks her body. Days muddle into weeks, weeks into months, and before Cha Jaehwa knows it, August molds into September, and the unforgiving heat cools into something chiller. The change in temperature seeps in through Jaehwa's body, but at night, it feels as though August still sets its palm against her, and she cannot escape the burns it leaves upon her slumbering fuselage.

Morning greets Jaehwa's freshened body with kisses that bite at her cheeks and nose and rub her face a shade of red that is none too befitting of her pallor, and later on so does Cha Si-woo with his brutish smile as he wears a frilly pink apron and cooks her breakfast.

She points at the sight and laughs, and so does he — Eyes crinkling, face scrunching, and joy ringing through the apartment — And Jaehwa feels slightly more normal.

Si-woo looks over his shoulder for the first few minutes, after the laughter has died out and only silence is left behind to fill in the gaps of their conversation, as though his daughter wouldn't be there when he looked back for her.

He smiles when he realizes that she isn't going anywhere, and turns back for the last time before busying himself with whatever mess he's creating on the stove.

Cha Jaehwa learns that even though he tries, and he really does, Cha Si-woo has little talent for the kitchen.

She eats until she is full, and with a "Thank you for the meal," the teen returns to her room.

It is easier to ignore the remnants of the Cha Jaehwa of last month that stain the house with crimson fingerprints and her father's twisted frown, than it is for Jaehwa to admit her happiness is really just a struggle to find something she doesn't know how to.

Her bed is the only one that greets her coldly, and Jaehwa in turn accepts it warmly. They mold into a lukewarm embrace, and the girl is pulled into slumber once more.

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‎MOMENTS ARE FEW in which Jaehwa has the liberty to leave the house on her own whims. Si-woo and Boram keep a tight seal on the front door, and Jaehwa would rather not grapple with a 200-pound man or a heavily sleep-deprived nurse only for a few short seconds of bittersweet freedom.

Instead, it is Moon Boram that gives Jaehwa what little escape taking side dishes to Mr. Yeon in building 101 can provide.

The man is kind, or as kind as a divorced man can be. Jaehwa remembers greeting him in a soft murmur, hidden beneath her too-large sweater — Even as the sweltering August heat dug crevices deep enough to sweat a lake against her sunken cheeks — And pulling her beanie as though such a small act was enough to hide the remains of tragedy from her body.

She remembers how a boy her age, seventeen, maybe younger, trailed behind him, and she thought of the only good thing she could do — Smile and wave.

Maybe the boy would find her easier to look at if she plasters a smile onto her lips and a false cheer to her voice, and maybe that could make Cha Jaehwa believe she truly is who they say she is.

Building 101 of Dongbaek Apartments is just a short walk and an elevator ride away from Jaehwa's own unit. Perhaps that is the reason Moon Boram had been so lenient in allowing her daughter to spare a short walk outside.

Unit 902 is silent, despite her soft knocks against the thick metal door.

Jaehwa frowns and knocks harder. The cold afternoon breeze is prickly against her bare arms, and the girl regrets leaving her jacket hidden somewhere beneath piles of unfolded clothes and wadded-up, paint-stained paper.

At last, she hears beeping from the other end and the door creaks open.

A head of dark hair pops out, followed by a set of large eyes and chapped lips.

Jaehwa smiles awkwardly, swinging the plastic bag interlacing her fingers against the wind.

"Is your dad home?" She asks, subconsciously bringing her free hand to smooth down the hair on the back of her head.

The boy shakes his head. Jaehwa remembers Mr. Yeon introducing him, and faintly remembers being given a name, but it has slipped from her mind the way everything seems to these days.

"My mom sent side dishes." Jaehwa holds out the plastic bag and the boy stares at it for a long moment.

His eyes look too sad and tired to belong to anyone his age, but Jaehwa thinks she knows well enough what does and doesn't constitute what a teenager should be.

"I'm Cha Jaehwa." She quips when her fingers begin to cramp, still holding out the bag, and the boy, still staring at it.

He shifts his gaze to stare at her, and something bitter flickers through his dark eyes.

"I know." He murmurs deeply, the first words he's spoken to her.

Oh.

Jaehwa swallows the lump that begins to crawl up her esophagus. He knows, but she doesn't.

She doesn't.

The conversing mood depletes from Jaehwa's system. The boy's face purses, and he finally takes the bag from her slowly weakening arms.

"I'm Yeon Si-eun." He provides a name, and such a beautiful one, before shutting the door and leaving Jaehwa a withering human, standing there and staring blankly at the old peeling numbers against the metal entrance.

Yeon Si-eun. Jaehwa repeats the name. She might forget it if she lets the syllables slip through her fingers, the way they had, once.

She finds her heart heavier, the overlapping images of a sad-eyed boy that stares at her as if she isn't real, and the underlying sketch of rough yet gentle fingers, lopsided smiles, and crinkled grins, and they sift in her brain for a moment before — Jaehwa finds herself back at her own front door.

She pushes in the code — Cha Si-woo had changed it to Jaehwa's birthday to make it easier for her to remember — And enters the house.

She ignores the almost silent whispers as she passes her parents' bedroom. There is nothing to hear; She knows without a doubt that it is her they are conversing so urgently about.

Jaehwa buries herself back in her bed. She is anything but tired.

"I'm Yeon Si-eun."

"Ahn Suho."

"We're your parents."

Jaehwa closes her eyes. Perhaps it would be easier to just slip into eternal slumber, and leave behind what she no longer remembers anyway.

Not for the first time, the harrowing feeling of being someone in the wrong skin is what keeps Cha Jaehwa awake.

When the sun peeks through the curtains, perhaps then Jaehwa will plaster a smile on her face and pray that she can pretend well enough to fool not only those around her, but herself.

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‎ ✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE !

2nd chapter and a very short si-eun interaction!! i promise ill give them deeper and longer interactions later, but not yet

the amnesia plot is rlly getting to me bc i have no idea what im doing 😭 anyways hopefully it will play out better in the following chapters

chapter title courtesy of matt maltese's curl up & die! slightly or very angsty chap bc jaehwa is glued to her bed and not in a 'real' way but a prob depressed and anxious way 😣

good news tho, i will be introducing suho vv soon (maybe in the next chap or the one after that) but i'll have to find a way for them to meet what with them being on slightly bad terms 😊

other than that pls lmk if there are any mistakes in the spelling or anything so i can fix it !

also don't b afraid to vote or comment, i will probably (very likely) reply!!!! and if you don't understand something, plsplspls lmk!! i want yall to fully understand what's going on

happy reads!

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─── ANNIE