"Ahyunie!"

He cried and cried some more, but she didn't wake up.

Seojin didn't know if that was the end of his story. It may just be the onset of a great adventure.
Life was like that. Nobody ever knew anything. Where one calls something bad; he called it good. But really, nobody ever knew.

He had to heal his wounded world. The chaos, despair, and senseless vandalism he saw today were a result of the estrangement that he felt from world, from each other and his domain.

It was one night that led to destructive catastrophe, with the little life left in his fist, Seojin stood at the door, shattered and bewildered.

It was already too much when he met the chafed Tobias back at his café when he was blamed for innumerable frauds when he found a panicking Hana chanting Chiwon's name... And now his wife, unconscious.

It wasn't something sort of dream or a nightmare. His subconscious mind always nullified the threats of being blamed, for he knew he was honest, too true to himself and much more bona fide to his loved ones. All he ever dreamt was of being lost in the sea of loneliness he was brought up in. He craved a family and losing it would be the biggest despair of his life.

He wanted to deny every bit of reality crawling over his spine in a crippled manner. Not only that, but he would love to deny it all. It was a mess everywhere, his life, his mind, his heart. Pulling the sheets to cover her shivering body, Seojin slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

A void in his chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed him the right to his hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.

At first, he thought of laying on the couch, to spend the night in the alluring darkness, but the warmth he craved amidst the flourishing night was nowhere to be found. So, he took his trembling body and plopped down next to his daughter.

The little girl scooted closer to the newly found warmth, and even in her deep sleep, she did what no one could: soothe his searing heart. When he broke beneath the burden of the years and went down with everything he owned, his thoughts drifted on the sea of smithereens for a while like small lost rafts. They did not drown; instead, they carried and sailed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, with the little life in his arms, he let his heart bleed.
Night fell. Or had tumbled.

He remembered reading somewhere, someone asking why was it that night fell, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if he looked east, at sunset, he could see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brush fire or a burning city.

He had the answer today. Night fell because it was heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes.

Maybe the morning would be better, maybe the morning would bring all the happiness, maybe the morning would define all of this to be a horrendous nightmare, maybe.

The morning shall bring it all.

...

The morning had quietly slipped in through the small cracks in the window blinds. The sun peeking through seemed a bit shy, but it was still a bit unnerving.

In the quiet aftermath of a turbulent night, as the morning light timidly crept through the crooked shades of the window cracks, a sense of unease lingered in the room. The sun's rays, usually a herald of a new day, now felt unsettling, casting shadows that danced eerily on the walls.

Outside, the world continued on, oblivious to the turmoil within. Birds chirped merrily, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers. But inside, it was as if a storm had ravaged the very essence of life itself, leaving behind a haunting peace in its wake.

Broken shards of glass lay scattered on the floor, a stark reminder of the events that had transpired the night before. Words spoken in anger, actions fuelled by frustration - all now lay still in the quiet of the morning, like ghosts of a past best forgotten.

Twisting and turning upon the crumpled sheet, Seojin fluttered open his eyes, squinting it to adjust to the sneaking light. He may have occasionally liked dissolving into that cacophony of the yellow, but more often than not, it appeared as though he was slicing right through it.

Half his body had accepted the warm light and the other half had given into the greyish-blue of the shade.

Fisting his palm, he sat upon the bed, trying to retaliate where he was. And it didn't take him long to fumble through the charts of his memories to remember each incident vividly. First, he had tucked Hana in for the night. Then, he had noticed Ahyun's perplexing gaze. Lastly, she had suddenly fainted.

As the realisation took a grasp on him, and he turned to his right to find the spot empty, where was Mi-cha? A quick peek at the clock said it was around seven in the morning, and Seojin quickly moved his body, rushing outside to find her.

The house was empty.
The dining, the kitchen, the bathroom, each place was quiet and left alone. Not even a breath was heard gushing softly around the corners of their home.

Where did they all disappear?

He found himself overwhelmed by the events unfolding around him, caught in a vortex of emotions that consumed every inch of his being. But above all, it was the fiery rage that coursed through his veins, growing fiercer with each passing moment. Regret washed over him as he berated himself for being unable to break free from the constraints of his own limitations. Deep within, he longed for progress, for a way to transcend the chaos and discover inner peace.

His head felt like an apocalyptic world and in this shattered world, the piercing echoes of screams reverberated from every corner, erasing any trace of harmony. Dissonant voices clashed and collided, each one desperately seeking dominance. The relentless symphony of chaos threatened to annihilate the delicate serenity that lingered.

Helplessly, he observed the relentless war of words, as insults were hurled and individuals were diminished, all in the pursuit of an illusory superiority. It was a perpetual race, driven by an insatiable hunger for power and control. Emotions were mere trajectories, fleeting sparks that flickered and died within an expansive abyss of emptiness.

And when his heart felt sinking beneath the heaps of heaviness, the bell rang; loud. Wiping off the damp tears on his cheeks, his scurrying steps took him to the door as he pulled the shackles open to reveal Ahyun standing in flesh and blood.

"Ahyun..." His eyes widened in surprise and delight; he couldn't believe she was actually here. He eagerly reached out his arm, hoping to hold her wrist, but she didn't linger long enough. Moving past him, she swiftly made her way to the kitchen, carefully placing the bags of groceries on the counter. She washed her hands before organizing everything in their rightful spots.

"Ahyun..." Seojin stood at the door, eyeing her each move. This, probably, was the last thing playing on his mind; to be ignored by the love of his life. And the cherry on top; he doesn't even know why!

Closing the door behind him, he neared the lady who was busy stocking their refrigerator with a week long's groceries. He had to talk, he must have done something despicable to receive such blatant treatment. He cannot give up. Perhaps, this unwanted feeling of nothingness was already too much.

A punch on his face won't do much harm, would it? "Ahyun?" Anything for her!

"Yes, Jin."

Not even Jinnie? God save him.

"Mi-cha?" The best way to start, is their adorable daughter.

"It's their picnic day Jin, I had to drop her off early, so they could reach the spot together," she muttered placing two eggs and some bacon over the countertop.
She practically ignored everything about Seojin, but then again, didn't ignore it at all.

For a moment, the man lost himself amidst the tragedy, he loved Ahyun, he loves Ahyun and like always and forever he would keep going back to her, no matter how far, how harsh, she was the one for him.

"Ahyun, please talk to me," he pouted, showing his puppy eyes.

"I am talking Jin," she turned around, trying her best to ignore her husband.

One more try shall not harm, would it?

"Ahyun..." He strolled up to her, trying to curl his arms around her figure, but she didn't pay any heed.

"I am cooking right now. Can we talk later?" She mumbled as the man hugged her closer with his chin upon her shoulder, inhaling her scent.

For a moment, her world came to a halt, how much she missed his warmth, the love, the care, this little intimacy. His warm skin was drying her flooded soul, the warmth was something her cold heart could put to good use. She knew well that regardless of what happened between them, she could never stop loving this man even if she had to leave him.

The tags never defined love, feelings did.

"Ahyun, we need to ta-" his voice was abruptly cut off by a cheery interruption.

"Good morning, guys!"

The voice felt like a fast stab wound to her heart. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She was used to this, after all. People always seemed to have a knack for ruining serious moments.

But as she exhaled, something shifted within her. It was as if the very act of breathing out carried away the pain. In that moment, she felt a surge of strength and resilience, like the wind against her face when she spread her wings and soared through the sky.

Ahyun had no wings, of course. She was just an ordinary girl, but her ability to heal was her own form of flight. The power to mend and make whole again was a special gift that she had always possessed. And in times of despair, it was the closest thing she had to the feeling of freedom.

Amidst his little try, the voice brought down everything he had built in the past few minutes.

Smiling at the woman, Ahyun muttered, "Go get Hana seated, I will bring the breakfast," and quickly pushed his hands wrapped against her body.

Seojin was taken aback, it had never been that she backed away, showing the little skin ship in front of their friends. She always relished those little teases, shying away, turning red instead of pushing him away.
Maybe, the situation?

Rubbing off those thoughts for the latter part of the day he nodded at his wife before settling on the table with Hana.

"How do you feel now, Hana?" Sitting on his regular piece of wood he grabbed an apple, nibbling on its skin.

She stared at him in an empty glance, as if her heart fell out someplace where his love was. "Fine, I guess. I dreamt of Ryuk. It felt so real, so soothing... Does he dream of me too, now that we are so far away?"

"I know it's not easy, Hana, but sometimes the painful truth is that a relationship just isn't working anymore. It's not about lies or disloyalty, but about the daily ache in your heart. It's about realizing that you're just coping, not truly living. I can't say for sure if he thinks of you, but I believe he misses you as much as you miss him. Maybe his pride or guilt is stopping him from reaching out and apologizing. But I have a feeling he'll be there waiting for you when you need him, ready to hold you in his arms."

Hana's eyes filled with overwhelming emotions as she gazed at Jin. Yoshi might not be in a position to take care of her, but Jin was here, just like always. She pulled herself up from her chair and launched a heartfelt embrace around Jin, sobbing lightly.

"Thank you for being there for me whenever I was lost, thank you..."

"That's the bare minimum I could do for you, Hana."

The man barely whispered only to hear a clash, his eyes searched for the source as he and Hana both turned to find Ahyun standing with a desolate piece of sentiment hanging on her back.

Something had to burn, either truth or love.

_______

It is just the starting...

WC: 2137