A FAINT PULSE, not quite Cha Jaehwa's, lingers beneath her eyelids. It snakes venomously down her cheeks in gentle rivets, curling at the ends of her fingertips and in the curve of her collarbone.

When she holds her breath, she can feel the pulse steady against her palm, intermingling with her heartbeat. Each pump of blood is a reminder that the life held between her calloused fingers is still holding on. Each muffled beep is Jaehwa's signal of divinity, granting the life carved into her second soul another day.

The world does not end when Ahn Suho's laughter fades into the wallpaper of her apartment. It continues on, leaving traces of his once magnificent presence in every place Jaehwa looks.

The most memorable of all being where his staid body rests, withering away into bone and rot.

He's not truly absent. Ahn Suho's eyes always linger in Jaehwa's fervid dreams, needlessly empty and yet so, so full.

But it comes time to move on. The hospital walls cease to become a comfort (were they ever?) and Cha Jaehwa's life begins to fall apart as she realizes that no amount of hoping will unhook Ahn Suho from what keeps him alive.

It takes her three days to come running back to that cold bedside, to weep against Suho's blue sheets that reek of chemicals and factory detergent and nothing like the usual sharp deodorant and faint restaurant smoke.

( And Ahn Suho begins to fade, only this time Jaehwa so desperately tries to make him stay ).

It costs Cha Jaehwa her first friend to regain some of what she lost; Chunks of her memories return in muddled waves. She can't tell the difference between what's real and what is a sleep-deprived hallucination, but when they begin to sear against her skin and leave her breathless, she realizes what she misses most in the world is Ahn Suho.

( Consequently, that's the only thing she can't have ).

The Cha family breaks apart. That isn't Suho's doing; It's Jaehwa's. Her placidness becomes anger, and her anger carries thorns.

It doesn't matter; But when it does, all Jaehwa can do is snap and fizzle like a dull firework, unable to keep herself alive without tearing the flesh of those that try to keep her warm.

Her parents carry the scars of her anger, and they dish it back on occasion. They spit heavy phrases that make Jaehwa upset, and the cycle continues, forever a constant battle between what is and what once was.

( Jaehwa knows she is not their daughter. She doesn't try to be ).

When Yeon Si-eun begins to grow distant, and the frayed ends of the relationships she'd been trying to hold together begin falling apart, Cha Jaehwa struggles to learn what it means to love again.

Through the harsh winds of the Winter broiling within her, to the hot bubble of Summer, Cha Jaehwa is stuck between someone who she is and someone who she's trying to be.

Somehow, Si-eun and his new friends are able to simmer her into a mellow Spring despite her crude remarks and her less-than-lively demeanor.

( But she doesn't want to change. Who will carry Ahn Suho's burden if not her? )

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DEAR AHN SUHO,

You're losing weight. I complained to the nurses about adjusting your I.V. levels but they said you're perfectly healthy. Aside from the obvious coma, of course. They get irritated when I ask for a lot of favors. As long as you're comfortable I couldn't care less, though.

I met your grandma. She looks tired, but otherwise healthy. Don't worry about her. I've been spending a lot of time with her, trying to get her mind off things. I couldn't tell her the truth about not remembering her. She cried in my arms and stroked my hair and called me her granddaughter-in-law, and I couldn't bring myself to ask who she was because a part of me already knew. Something about her was so familiar. Maybe it's because you have her eyes. If I squint hard enough, I can see you through her. The more she talks about us, the more my head seems to clear.

Being around her is good for my memory. I think. She makes good food too. I'm probably at your grandma's house more than my own. She lets me borrow your windbreaker, the red and black one. I haven't worked up the courage to take it home yet, and I don't think she can bear going into your room for more than a few minutes. When I visit she tells me to take your bed if I want to stay the night.

She knows I don't really like being home anymore. I study on her kitchen table, and she hums that song you sing to fill the quiet air. I know she probably pretends that I'm you, but it's okay. Sometimes I do the same thing when she takes me into her gentle arms and rubs my back. I let myself cry a little, but not too much, because I don't want her to think that I'm a loser who can't hold her tears. It's okay if she cries, though. You're practically her son.

I stopped drawing. Whenever I try to picture someone's face, you're the only thing that pops into my head. If I draw you now, I think I might cry again, so I gave it up completely. You can nag me about it when you wake up.

Mom sent me to school again. I'm starting the year off fresh at an all-girls school. We fought a lot about it, but in the end I decided to go because it's right by Si-eun's new school. Plus, I couldn't return to my old life and pretend I was still the old me. I didn't even like to study anymore, and I'm definitely not the smartest. Also, I realized I don't really remember much of my time there. I mainly wanted to stay because it reminded me of you. Anyway, Si-eun promised we could take the bus together, so I have to wait for him every morning.

He thinks you left his side. It's hard talking to him sometimes. We don't get along as well as we used to. He has a hard time sleeping, and he's always so out of it. I'm worried. It makes me angry sometimes. I'm so angry that he never tells me anything. Even before, you two always kept secrets from me. Young-yi knew things that I didn't, and I was sad before, but now I'm angry.

But he's nice to me. He's so nice that it makes me want to cry. I know he's making an effort even though he's fucking miserable on the inside. You're making everyone miserable, Suho. So just wake up.

Dad gets angry when I bring you up. He says that I shouldn't use you as an excuse to guilt trip them. I know it's wrong, but they always end up letting me get my way. I should've done this when I lost my memories, but you probably kept me on the right track. You being gone is turning me into a bad person. We're falling apart. I think you stole my spark. My head hurts when I think too much, and I feel so violent and vulnerable all the time. It's not fair.

They tried sending me to therapy after I accidentally hurt myself while smashing a vase on the floor. In my defense, it was just a few days after your accident and they wanted to pack up and move. It was pathetic. I couldn't cry in those days, and as soon as I realized I might never see you again, I couldn't stop. The cut on my hand didn't even hurt. I couldn't even hear my parents trying to tell me it's all right. All that mattered was staying close to you. I said no to therapy. I wasn't crazy or anything. I didn't need a therapist. My grief was containable, so long as I didn't share it with anyone. I already had you to share it with.

I lost that fight. Mom sent me to therapy, just for a day, and the old grim woman who was supposed to be my therapist recommended writing a letter. So I did. So I am. After that, I stopped seeing her. I made up some dumb excuse of needing to focus on my studying, and that she was trying to put me on antidepressants that I didn't need, and that was enough to scare my parents into pulling me out of therapy. But I still ended up writing the damn letter. It's addressed to you, and I'll be embarrassed when you read it after you wake up, but at least then you'll feel bad and never try to be a hero again without thinking of the consequences.

I miss you. I have nothing to remember you by. No pictures on my phone, no audios of your voice. Just your gaunt face against the ventilator, half-covered by that translucent mask. And that drawing I made of you that no longer looks like you. It pisses me off just seeing it. I want to burn it, but it's still you. Just like how I'm still me. So I keep it hidden in my desk for when I'm not at your side and I need to remember your face again. I'm scared I'll forget what you look like with your eyes open.

I don't really believe in God, so I can't pray to him and beg him to bring you back.

But you can't leave me yet, so you have to wake up sometime.

Lots of love,

Cha Jaehwa.

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everything fades.
will you ?
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MOONCHILD.
© rkiives / may 2025
WEAK HERO ( season 2 )
( oc x ahn suho x yeon si-eun )

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( CHAPTERS 26 ─── (?) )
STATUS : ONGOING

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