SCENE V.
IF SHE WAS A FLOWER
they are what the
future needs, my child.

YANG JUNGWON knew a thing or two about flower language but never cared much about that knowledge. His mom was a true source of great influence that carried out the plantsman spirit within her son, him growing up, watching her mother as her hands were repeatedly dipped into nasty soil. To him, she was the best mother to have ever existed, but didn't quite understand why her mother took an interest in mundane things except planting. The modern world had every reason to manifest why such people could love plants.

︎ ︎ ︎"Alongside the youth and their knowledge, they are what the future needs, my child." Those words have always been his mother's answers whenever questioned about her love for the environment by his only son. Together with the warmth of her palm hovering on his head, cheeky smiles and giggles based on little touches, he reminisced those moments of them with a grin plastered on his lips, presently focused on the plants laid before him.

︎ ︎ ︎A pair of eyes flew around the flamboyance of the shop. Not to mention its fragrance and the flowers that dominated the population of that minuscule building. A youth in his dainty red apron and nametag stood forth the counter, incessantly smiling at the sight of customers congregating and contented with what they were seeing. Jungwon's tiny fingers landed on a packet of willow flower seeds, filling his mind to think whether the said item was worth buying or wasn't.

︎ ︎ ︎Willows were such beautiful species of flowers that painfully reminded him of his late mother. The memory of her loving them dearly was an image Jungwon could never erase from his head, though he wished he could, because the irreversible time was swiftly ticking for her and for those flowers they had taken care of. The sight of her carefully caressing them from the moment they were little seedlings and even until they were old, the voice of her telling him to water him only once a day- it all played in his head, reminding him how such flowers sealed a loving mother and son's relationship. They calmly died in his arms the same way his mother did, withering away with the most bittersweet goodbye.

︎ ︎ ︎"Oh, willows! What a lovely preference you have there, sir." The man in apron approached Jungwon and joyfully complimented. Jungwon could already say he was much of a sunshine. As he was about to thank him, the other interjected. "Willows are said to symbolize perpetuity and hope."

︎ ︎ ︎Yet willows no longer remind him of their symbolism. They gave him false hopes that, for eternity, shall never be forgotten by him. Those hopeful willows have withered, shifting themselves into willows of false encouragement.

︎ ︎ ︎Next to the packets were various species of cacti that would often wonder if they were appealing enough to captivate customers. Over time, they became more pretentious about the flowers which most people would purchase, and how they always had the absence of thorns. Yet when a man who carried a sudden interest over them passed by, one was pulled out from the shelf where it stayed for at least a couple of months, scrutinized and was ready to be bought.

︎ ︎ ︎Remnants of his mother were like cacti. Beautiful- but dangerously prickly; a nature given to them by God. Seeing them had once again reminded him of her, of her lovely morning smiles, welcoming his only son and the plants to which bore a special sanctuary within her heart. Although it pained him, Jungwon couldn't resist smiling, leisurely looking at the tags attached on the tiny, ceramic pots he was holding.

︎ ︎ ︎"I'd rather have these, anyway. Thank you." Setting the willow seeds back to where it was from, Jungwon lended the tiny pot to the counterman's open palms, bowing, as he took the lead on their way to the counter. Better were the cacti than flowers who'd only give him false hope for eternal life, one that can never be acquired by anyone, neither the flowers nor trees.

︎ ︎ ︎"Sure! Let me pack it for you."

︎ ︎ ︎The last time Jungwon had been out of his home without having to fret was months ago, to which he can remember, at a cemetery, where his mother was buried six feet underground. Considering the frequent cases of fires, theft and hoax that would take place around their neighborhood, there was no option but to remain where safety is easily accessed, and anxiety would be out of reach. However, as the house soon deliberately shrank, wrapping itself in familiarity, his surroundings became more lifeless, and there was not much he could do but play days on repeat for at least a month in duration.

︎ ︎ ︎With Yoo Yerim surfacing like a potential phantom, he had someone to take guidance of the household. He thought he'd stop by a flower shop for his first escape after months of feeling like a prisoner. Although it has already been four days since she came, there was not much of a difference that came to his life, except the house becoming less lifeless and with his trust for her only thriving, caused by conversations that would commence out of the sudden urge. Yerim's statements became even more sensible, him still clueless how such a thing could be possible in this non-fictional world.

︎ ︎ ︎Yoo Yerim. Her name was a palette of blue. If she was a flower what would she be? What was her favorite color? Would she rather choose sunrises or sunsets? Looks like he still had a lot to learn about this woman.

︎ ︎ ︎Yoo Yerim, Yoo Yerim, Yoo Yerim- her name repeatedly appeared on Jungwon's mind on his way home as he peeked on the cacti he had bought to his content, wondering which flower the woman would be if ever she was.

︎ ︎ ︎Because it seemed to him that she was.

When he came home, it was half past seven in the evening, and Yerim's hair was already dried by natural wind. Every gush, gust, blow, was a strong factor that contributed to its swift drying, its wetness not lasting for an hour. This also wouldn't be possible without her constant meandering forward and backwards, thinking if she should break the house rules this time and cook food, as it was getting late. Jungwon had forbidden her to use the stove without his permission.

︎ ︎ ︎"What did I say about using the stove?" He wasn't angered with what ovated his essence in his own household- the nostalgic scent of ginseng being carried by the wind and passed through his nose. He was, knowing that another guideline was neglected by Yerim. Though it did not exactly bother Jungwon to his nerves, Yerim could only press a foolish grin on her lips, watching him make his every move and reduce his motions the more he makes them. The latter places his belt bag on the nearest furniture, accommodating the food he had bought "Anyway, I brought chicken."

︎ ︎ ︎"Well.... I heard chicken tastes best with ginseng soup!" Her pace increased as she went through every word of this light-hearted exclamation, her palms slapped against each other, eyes narrowed elsewhere but to him. The relevance of the broken rule soon disappeared to thin air as soon as their eyes feasted upon the variety of foods on the table.

︎ ︎ ︎The supper was of contentment yet was the one that contained the most lack of communication. A meal when compliments and stories were mused to be said, but caged within their minds as time progressed, not one soul out of the two wanting to damage their peace of minds. They both enjoyed these meals- merely sitting at the table with company that was silent, where only the sound of the television overheard on the background of their atmosphere.

︎ ︎ ︎"Okay. Heads up, Yang." After swallowing the piece of mushroom in her throat, Yerim reiterated when she felt like the silence was stifling. She gaped at the man across the table, aggressively munching on chicken like it was the first time he ever ate such. "Wait- what are you doing?" As soon as she saw this, a vigorous force of laughter jolted her near it, bringing him to stop such bold chewing, brows together, nonchalantly allocating the chopsticks on top of his soup bowl.

︎ ︎ ︎"Wh-"

︎ ︎ ︎"You should see the look on your face!" Nevertheless, Yerim faltered to her own set of laughter, after everything. She could no longer contain it, eyeing the crimson-colored condiment painted on every corner and edges of her lips as he pushed for solemnity. It was gravely evident that it would easily pass on as an unnoticed lipstick mess. Jungwon could only be seen alternately pursing his lips and jolting his tongue to reach affected corners of his lips. She then grabbed the napkin next to the utensils and threw it to the skeptical man, making strands of his hair float backwards as a reaction. "Wipe your lips, child."

︎ ︎ ︎"Jeez, could use a little less hostility. But thanks I guess."

︎ ︎ ︎Yerim's laughter was no stranger to Jungwon. It was a hook, however, which brought his heart nearest to relief. Like when days- unnoticeably adrift to darkened days of grief, laughter was all it took for a rainbow, after all. They didn't lie when they said that laughter is the best medicine. It didn't take long for him to wipe off every single smudge on his face, but what took long was- again- his gaze on him that felt like a million years.

︎ ︎ ︎"Anyways, I was gonna say-" Yet again as she generally did, Yerim saw his look on her getting stronger. This time, be that as it may, he actually figured out how to pull himself away as she returned the look - until everything was utterly tranquil. It was too much for Yerim to take in; the silence. And none of them meant it. Implying, she freed her throat. "We should finish our song within 2 months."

︎ ︎ ︎When relief morphed into an agonizing, unwanted sentiment of neutrality, Jungwon discovered himself quickly changing countenances too, breaking free from the comfort of slouching to leaning onwards to indicate the soberness of what they were about to discuss. If laughter was all that it took to free him from his excruciating episodes, solely a slick saliva in her throat took to immediately kill such a short-lasting bliss.

︎ ︎ ︎"Why though?"

︎ ︎ ︎"Time." Postulated Yoo Yerim before gulping. "Time is such a fragile thing. In this storyline, specifically."

︎ ︎ ︎"It always has been, Yoo." For Jungwon, time has been a glassy aspect of his life. For it to break may take only one wrong move unnoticed. She moved her eyes at him, his at hers, two nocturnal pools engulfed with watery uncertainty. "But why two months?"

︎ ︎ ︎"You still have to go to school." Her face was a voided canvas, dull and vague. Jungwon took notice of this blurring enthusiasm rather than her words. "You seriously don't have any plans of applying for college, huh? Second semester already started last September."

︎ ︎ ︎"I'm too broke for school shit." Then, the proximity between his upper and lower lips then extended as a portion of chicken stuck between chopsticks entered his mouth. The thought of school specifically made his mind landing on the idea of that one specific family member, canceling his desires to attend.

︎ ︎ ︎"Nah, you just need a better school to attend to. Cheaper, non-prestigious, but is definitely gonna bring you closer to your savior." Her plate had already been empty as Yerim declared, thought that her stomach had enough and her hunger was satisfied. She set aside the chopsticks along with her plate and bowl, stacking them all together to observe order. "Say, where were you actually planning to apply for college?" Despite the fact that she knew, she still begged to ask, expecting to acquire assurance through this query.

︎ ︎ ︎"Well, Yongsan College's the closest to home so-" Missing her gaze, Jungwon shrugged.

︎ ︎ ︎"No."

︎ ︎ ︎The two paused, a glimpse of Jungwon's voice too low in volume to be heard.

︎ ︎ ︎"You were literally asking." A catatonic stare traveled her face, Jungwon an inch closer to dismissing her away. In every second of her existence, this girl's just making me dumber, reflected the boy.

︎ ︎ ︎"And you're literally not going there." A delicate sigh was then headed, sweeping off the wetness of her lips. "Can't believe my existence here didn't bother to change that. Butterfly effect shit."

︎ ︎ ︎Only the advertisements presented by the TV station they were tuned in filled the voided air of gaucheness, which contained Yerim's silent entertainment of the man in front of him enjoying his last specks of food. She slipped away from this entertainment, knowing it was beyond enough, frowning seconds before he threw a look at her.

︎ ︎ ︎"Whatever happens, you're not going to Yongsan College." There was a newspaper laid upon her lap all those times, and soon believed it was time to pick it up and present it to him as soon as he finished eating.

︎ ︎ ︎Gangnam University of Arts is currently open for second semester enrollment! For inquiries, please dial 051-002-0904; it read, the school's name written in bold letters. Jungwon then came across the date of its publication and release date, coarsening his eyebrows in bamboozlement.

︎ ︎ ︎"You're giving me a month old newspaper?"

︎ ︎ ︎Gangnam University of arts. It wasn't as massive as Yongsan Academy nor the past schools he attended before. But like them, it had a field embedded in brown and unhealthy soils seated right in front of the actual school. Fancy was definitely not a word to define how the institution looked from the outside, as it was an underwhelming vision to Jungwon who hoped he would disregard this sooner. However, just as how his heart was decorated with neutrality and simple acquaintance of no in-depth sentiments, it was inevitable.

︎ ︎ ︎"Tomorrow, take a trip to Gangnam and apply for college." Yerim pleaded firmly. "The fees are cheaper than Yongsan anyway. You should be good there."

︎ ︎ ︎"But Gangnam's too far away!"

︎ ︎ ︎"Guess you'll have to wake up early from now on, huh, gamer boy."

︎ ︎ ︎Although he knew it would do nothing but display his arrogance, Jungwon groaned the loudest he could to elaborate his dismay, replying, ︎"No." It was an obvious answer she expected from Jungwon. Still, she saw not a speck of it coming. "I'm not going broke over some train fees, everyday, back and forth. Most of all, I'm not waking up early just to go to school!"

︎ ︎ ︎"Did I say anything about you wasting money on train fees? Hell, that's the last thing you should ever expect from me. Use your bicycle!"

︎ ︎ ︎"No." She muttered and only a matter of time, he had fully disregarded her, walking all the way to the kitchen countertop leaving her his passive demeanor.

︎ ︎ ︎Yerim didn't have much of a choice left. She stood up, grabbed her dishes and placed them beside the man in a colorful apron.

︎ ︎ ︎"Go to school or die."

︎ ︎ ︎She meant no harm, no death, no intentions of threatening him, because in fact, Yoo Yerim was trying to do the opposite. She was saving him.

︎ ︎ ︎Was she, really? At least, that was what she thought. She was saving him. Despite the fact that paradoxes have to scatter around for his life to be saved. Despite the fact that she had to feel a light pain in the chest every time a lightning of rejection strikes her heart.

︎ ︎ ︎"I'm not up for your lame threats, sorry."

︎ ︎ ︎"This isn't a threat, Yang- well it kinda is, you know- but for the love of God I'm not gonna commit murder or anything! This is your reality! We're talking about saving lives here." She confided, her arms thrown almost everywhere to her beckoning. "You need to go to school."

︎ ︎ ︎It might have appeared to Yerim that Jungwon was ignoring her, but he was silently crafting decisions inside his brain. The absence of his care angered Yerim, that the thought of ceasing him with washing the dishes and have herself rather do it melted to a concealed enragement. He commenced describing his own inner insanity, wishing he had enough energy to tell it all to her.

︎ ︎ ︎"Still, no."

︎ ︎ ︎Though Yerim was no coward, she realized that at some point everything had to be given up too.

︎ ︎ ︎Even if it meant sparing a step away from success.

︎ ︎ ︎"Well, if I can't convince you, who else will?" She replied with a breathy tone. "Fine. Just make sure you finish crafting tunes by December 1st. We only have about a year to comply with everything and we haven't even thought of a concept yet."

︎ ︎ ︎Arms dipped into foamy soap, Jungwon hummed, eyes still stuck on the dishes he was doing. "Hmm. Just go away."

︎ ︎ ︎She knew she wasn't enough. That wasn't enough. Everything's not enough. Nothing ever was. An authenticity driven by heart and mind wasn't enough to convince him. Perhaps, the littlest of her smiles were, but what good would it do to a persuasion when it can only pay another to be happy? Those were the her reflections, however.

︎ ︎ ︎It was true that she was trying, though. That willingness ran through every vein there was in her body like never once did it do before. Unlike those dishes, she believed it was only her who could save everything that lived from whatsoever she thought were in an imagination. Those inanimate objects have once again become his coping system, and it was even deadlier than cacti's prick.

︎ ︎ ︎"Good night."

︎ ︎ ︎Jungwon rather watched her walk to her room without her knowing, merely assuring she'd be safe with her entry into the said room. Just when he thought the time was right to look away from her direction now and rinsing the dishes, he decided he'd move on to his next task: replanting his newly-bought cacti.

︎ ︎ ︎A blink of an eye, a nick of time, a joint in motion, he was all alone again. But she was there, of course. Not in the sense that he could sight her near or from far. Not in the sense that he could hear her speak nonsense. She had left him with what was beautiful and dangerous at the same time right on his hands. It's not like it was his first encounter with a lone night (ask him, he's had almost forever.) But this swift progress had suddenly seemed to bother him.

︎ ︎ ︎Why would he bother about this? There were still plants that were in need of fresh soils and melodies anticipating to be produced in harmony, one with the other, and yet he preferred bothering his loneliness now. The cold was nothing but an ambitious beast whose prey was tricked into a void dome of darkness, tricking them into loneliness and their subconscious minds to alter their concentration over it. Before he knew it, inanimation had once again become his fortress and his consolation. Jungwon knew he was already sick of it- sick of being the sole traveler in this path of his. But understanding the meaning of companionship, his footsteps were no longer alone.

︎ ︎ ︎The night began seeping clouds bursting all the waters they could out of urge. It was no drizzle as it was too loud to be called like that. Everything but the raindrops eventually came to be inaudible, so loud that in fact, he was in the brink of cutting his ears off just to halt hearing all such sound of monstrosity.

︎ ︎ ︎"You'll be needing it to win someone's heart."

︎ ︎ ︎An image and voice of a woman standing a few feet apart from him on a Saturday, he remembered, amid all that loud mist. She was holding what seemed like totally cranked earphones with its wires all tangled up. He remembered debating by that time whether to take it or just leave her be, yet he wound up closing the doors no time. Thankfully, her arms were off distance from the doorway, too far for him to accidentally close it and injure her.

︎ ︎ ︎Unknowingly, those tangled wires fell from her fingers, and acquired not a thought to pick it up the moment following until forever.

︎ ︎ ︎Jungwon remembered this not due to the event that happened, but the sole subject of the momentum. He peeked through the little succulents blocking his path of sight where these earphones were placed, slightly concerned it might no longer be there. Yet it was. It has always been since that Saturday. It never left that said location since then.

︎ ︎ ︎Next to those succulents were flowers that were in need of watering. It hasn't come to him for weeks now to water them. They specifically were pink carnations, which were needed to be watered at least once a week.

︎ ︎ ︎Now, if pink carnations meant gratitude, what would she be? (The insides of his brain began to wander around the thought of Yoo Yerim again. It felt like as if it was almost unavoidable.)

︎ ︎ ︎Maybe a yellow carnation for giving him non-stop rejection?

︎ ︎ ︎He had grown out of the thought that she was a willow, as willows never gave him a hard time. Not his mother. His mother was the epitome of willows in the broad daylight, where energy moistens itself from a stiff nature to a graceful one. He doubted Yerim ever was. Jungwon shook his head to this, realizing he had been zoning out for the flowing two minutes of his lifetime.

︎ ︎ ︎But if she was a flower, what would she be? Yang Jungwon was yet to figure that out. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for the following months, maybe never, even.

︎ ︎ ︎One thing's for sure, though, was that Yoo Yerim was a flower in his eyes.

︎ ︎ ︎Because with what Yang Minji had said, "alongside the youth and their knowledge, they are what the future needs, my child.",

︎ ︎ ︎he now realized that she was the only hope of his future.

Nabi's log! - July 20, 2022 4:32PM
another episode of yerim convincing
jungwon with stuff and jungwon's
impulsive thoughts of her! so nabi,
when are the other characters
gonna be introduced? its been
five chapters and it has only been
jungwon & yerim! just trust the
process, we're still on the
intervention segment ;)
also pls excuse my messy
writing i've been struggling a
lot both physically & mentally. i
can't write well for the time being.
If she was a flower, everyone :)