SCENE III.
WILLOWS DO WEEP
mother, do willows
really weep?

"8 HOURS is over. Now, you may vanish from this neighborhood and never return." Yerim was flustered with the fact that this statement was what welcomed her to such a cozy morning, testified by Jungwon who manifested not an indication of bliss from the tone heard outside the door of her very room. His voice was more guttural than usual, and the door was seen repeatedly moving back and forth with the blaring effect made on a wooden material. "If you don't respond within five counts, I won't hesitate barging in!"

︎ ︎ ︎From that moment, not a single muscle was movable from her, nor the eyes who had the ultimate urge to see the light of day. Jungwon commenced naming cardinal numbers sequentially with the interval of two seconds in between, and just when he was about to say five, he finally heard the woman's voice, muttering at such softness.

︎ ︎ ︎"What a shame." Fighting the weakness that hovered on every corner of her body, Yerim eventually stood and saw the light of the low sun all over the room. With this, the boy halted counting and the reckless knocking was once and for all stopped, peace obtained. The rain was no longer pouring, and yet he remained unconvinced. "Have I not earned at least a puny trust from you? Now, you're being arrogant."

  ︎ ︎ ︎She couldn't be a stalker with that audacious personality of hers, nor can she possibly be a psychic. Not once has she read my mind. Perhaps, she really is from another dimension. Jungwon was beginning to doubt again. Only this time, he was doubting himself.

︎ ︎ ︎"Considering the fact that you spent your entire 8 hours dozing off and did no persuasion, no. Thanks to you, I am now witnessing an existential crisis." He cynically replied, abruptly meeting her tired eyes as soon as the door was opened by her, revealing a bright lighting. This brightness startled Jungwon the most, who once was only facing a door to where the darkness of the corridors was reflected.

︎ ︎ ︎That morning, they stood as two neighbors to each other. One was looming in the light and the other, within the dark corridors. Being used to the murky hallway he was in, as the sun rose on Yerim and was manifested upon him, he was almost blinded, and could not regenerate normal eyesight for a little while.

︎ ︎ ︎"I hate breaking this to you, Yang, but really. You, that cozy pillow and room- everything in here exclusively resides within a creative writer's mind. But maybe, I could bring you to my dimension as soon as all this ends well and who knows, might hang out together! Gee, imagine hanging out with your favorite book character." Various expressions were displayed as her words bled out of her mouth, from a total disappointment to an outburst of contentment. Yang Jungwon, who went through countless attempts in earning back the normal vision he wanted, eventually turned to her at the sound of her absurd yet joyous approaches, the tips of his inner brows close at meeting.

︎ ︎ ︎The two people that were once stagnant then hurried to the door, hearing the sound of the doorbell. Those words she said suddenly no longer mattered and were obtained within his head, rather replaced by his inquisitiveness over the sudden ringing that absolutely grabbed their attention. Although Yerim already knew who this person was and what they're here for, she kept her mouth shut and instead, threw herself to the sofa, legs laced one upon the other- mischievously grinning at the man who had not a sight of her.

︎ ︎ ︎Right in front of Jungwon as he opened the main door was a box sitting on a man's hands, his name Oh Dohyun as he read on his nametag. "Good morning, sir, here's your order!" Oh Dohyun, with grave mirth, declared. But the customer, whom he was facing, made an expression yet so questionable, that he eventually lost all courage he held up together with the box, tossed into thinking that there was something wrong about him and the words he formerly said. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

︎ ︎ ︎"But the seller-"

︎ ︎ ︎Jungwon had been wrong about his distinct assumptions of Yerim, misjudging her as a psychic and a stalker which she couldn't be based on past encounters. He was yet to settle in for the thought about her being right, but another impression arose by the time he was already holding a parcel in his arms. It was indeed colored after his favorite shade of brown, and was sent to him, at exactly seven in the morning. "Nothing. Thank you." He could only stammer to his astonishment and sent the delivery man away with a forged beam.

︎ ︎ ︎"Wow. Hell, was that so accurate." In his sarcastic approach right after he shut the door, the woman rejoiced at the thought of enclosing victory, and therefore, grinned widely. She leaned forward to where she could catch the best of his side view, and the smell of the enticing fumes engulfing his body. She saw a man in grave incertitude, desperate for answers, for clues, for linear solutions, hoping it would be given to him as soon as he got rid of this woman whom he thought he totally had nothing to do with.

︎ ︎ ︎"Awful. Are you just gonna deny the fact that I'm right and predicted every detail of your oh-so-confusing arrival of delivery?" As he looked at her, Jungwon heard her remarks in a cynical resonance. "Are we just gonna deny the fact that I'm actually not...... from this side of the universe?" The second time, her voice softened, shifting forwards and cutting down the mockery.

︎ ︎ ︎Yang Jungwon took a sigh. There was a string of ideas that crossed his mind. And so, closing his eyes- "Yeah." Said the lad, knitting his brows. "Yeah, let's do that." And before she could say anything, Jungwon took a strong grip on her wrist and drew her outside the house.

︎ ︎ ︎"Seriously, what the fuck is your problem?"

︎ ︎ ︎Yerim can't believe it. She can't believe that she was once again standing where she wasn't meant to be; exactly where she stood, exactly how she stood, exactly what she felt the previous day, exactly where Jungwon felt she belonged. Yerim felt the urge to quit somewhere inside her, telling her her lack of worth, and how everything can't ever be rewritten. Those words were after all imprinted on fragile sheets permanently, hence, can't ever be rewritten.

︎ ︎ ︎"You." He didn't even know why she hadn't gone away and what was with him for tolerating such a thing in the first place. "Now, go. Get the fuck out of here and never run into me again, please."

His plea spiraled in her mind like how stars in the galaxy would, granting a collision of these stars that pained her head who had shared it with the heart.

︎ ︎ ︎"I wish I could do that." However, Yerim never really wished for such a thing. There was something in his request that pushed her on the cliff of giving, to where everything seemed so hopeless. The hopelessness of this dessert has reflected itself onto the face of the woman, crestfallen and desperate as she looked into his eyes.

︎ ︎ ︎The man scoffed. "Alright. Suppose I'm indeed a 'character' of that novel. I just know there's a whole lot of characters- so why me? Why someone whom you thought is too gullible deserves to be-"

︎ ︎ ︎"Because you're my favorite one, Yang!" Pouring her all into that statement, Yerim yelled. "Can't the thought that someone cares for you amid all the lack of screen time you have moved you in the slightest bit? Can't the thought that someone out there is determined to save you? Do you hate people that much?" With every sentence were slight hits on his chest, and surprisingly, Jungwon had tolerated all these. "At this point, I'll no longer even try. Fine. But I'm very much sure that you believed me for once."

︎ ︎ ︎Speaking was a forgotten fragment of Jungwon's mind hearing Yerim suddenly switching to emotional aspects of their conversation. He no longer saw a lighthearted woman. He no longer saw a woman who would evidently crack forged grins to cover an outrage of feelings from within. He no longer saw a joyous woman who'd solely shoot jokes to enlighten what the devil cannot see.

︎ ︎ ︎In a fraction of a second, there stood Yoo Yerim. Solely her.

︎ ︎ ︎A weeping willow.

  ︎ ︎ ︎"Mother, do willows really weep?"

︎ ︎ ︎Jungwon was only a child when he would find healing in willows. It would shelter him from the painful rays of the sun. It would hide him from all the world's antagonists. It would grant their family togetherness due to its overflowing leaves that would become their fortress.

︎ ︎ ︎In willows, they became undivided.

  ︎ ︎ ︎"Son," said the father- his father, chuckling. "that's merely made up by your mother. She loves nothing else but you, I, and absurdity."

︎ ︎ ︎And in willows, they came to be divided.

︎ ︎ ︎A willow. Yerim was a willow of blue.

  ︎ ︎ ︎Weeping willows. She was a weeping willow. She only tried to be his fortress. She only tried to gather his broken pieces and glue them back together. She only tried to conceal him from all the world's antagonists. To break him was what a willow would not do.

︎ ︎ ︎She was nothing much, nothing less.

  ︎ ︎ ︎Just a willow.

  ︎ ︎ ︎Trying to save him.

︎ ︎ ︎"Say them again."

︎ ︎ ︎"What?"

︎ ︎ ︎"The words you first spoke to me." Another plea arises amid the depressive measures.

  ︎ ︎ ︎It's always him. It's always Jungwon who has something to ask from her. It's always him who can't accept what is requested by the other party. It's always him who's needed to be followed- and Yerim always knew that. Yang Jungwon was no one but a narcissistic- gullible- menace who believed anything but the truth. She's always despised him for that.

︎ ︎ ︎"Do I look like I am joking?"

︎ ︎ ︎"Oh, wow." Despite the fact that she was weeping, Yerim still managed to pull out sarcasm. "I should be the one asking you that."

︎ ︎ ︎"Just please."

︎ ︎ ︎"Why are we doing this?"

︎ ︎ ︎Failing to construct a convincing reply, Jungwon could only raise his brows.

︎ ︎ ︎"Fine! Fine." It was an act that contradicted Yerim's will which empowered her determination to yell cynically. "Yang Jungwon, I just wanna let you know that you're my favorite character from the sole book that broke me-" In between light sobs, Yerim would try to smile. She would grab her wrist against her face to wipe off the teardrops plummeting. But all these were abruptly ceased when Jungwon reached his hand to her lowly figure, and touched her soul.

︎ ︎ ︎"Then, promise me, Yoo Yerim." Jungwon stopped Yerim, tenderly cutting her off. "Promise me that the finale of this novel will be the best alternative ever written."

︎ ︎ ︎There went his trust. It fled upon the blow of winds as a spectacle of literature, from his parted lips where solely unsatisfying words would deliver.

︎ ︎ ︎There went her smile. It was like worm creeping through her earthly lips, a mesmerizing rendition gathered which unknowingly had mesmerized him. Jungwon supposed it was cute of her. It somehow relieved him, had his chest softened from the brittle property it's been possessing, made him want to apologize to her, and began one memoir of a million twists. Little did he know, however, this was only a crust of their earth's segments- a far 6 feet under from where they began.

︎ ︎ ︎She did not accept his hand and shook them afterwards. Yoo Yerim did not like the nature of this entry. She rather pulled his open hand, kept every finger but the pinky, then tugged hers towards the same destination, for theirs to entwine.

︎ ︎ ︎"I promise you that, Yang."

︎ ︎ ︎And a pact was created. Under an autumn sky, within the blow of autumn breeze and beneath where leaves had already withered. A pact that's hers to fulfill, and his to follow. That day on, no longer did Yang Jungwon halt himself from trusting the willow's capacities, letting that pact flow through their blood for the exact 291 days, 6984 hours, and 25,142,400 seconds.

︎ ︎ ︎As a bibliophile who reads, grasps, and travels through books night and day, Yerim had an adherence to the famous saying, 'A pen is mightier than a sword'. Not to the extent of a phenomenon like that would happen, however. The library was like her home and books were her earth, her solar system, her universe, every fragment of significance there ever was. Those libraries and books, hence, what she treated as her everything would never have been possible without the presence of pens and prolific writers, nor would have been the reality to which seemed like a dream, voiced before her dubious eyes.

︎ ︎ ︎To save this particular boy from his atrocious courses of life, she needed not a cape nor a costume, and definitely not a recognition mostly acquired by world renowned heroes. She must be committed to what seemed like her ultimate quest, she needed a pen to rewrite a story. She needed Jungwon, most of all. She needed him the most for the unchanging earth they two were on.

︎ ︎ ︎"Anyways, what are we waiting for? Let's go save you and the others!"

︎ ︎ ︎The pen happens to be very powerful, but is the pen powerful enough to control one's destiny?

Nabi's log! - Jun 10, 2022 4:21PM
God, I hate this chapter.