the war was a fear for most of the nation, the collapse of the once unionized country a worry that, now, for him seemed like a distant dream. he had fought in that war, had seen brothers killing brother, had seen the repercussions of foreign aid invading a fight that isn’t theirs to fight, had escaped death by a centimeter. his lifeline the girl at home with the soft billowing hair and a rare smile that brightened even the darkest of days. he had made it a goal that once he returned, he would make sure she never stopped smiling.
yet it seemed his fight wouldn’t end the moment he stepped foot off the battlefields.
a simple record player, a common object in the living rooms of those in the upperclass who could afford such luxury, one had befallen him by chance and is now the lifeline he held onto so desperately. his lifeline was gone, taken from him by the cruel workings of fate.
once again, for the hundredth, maybe even the thousandth time, he stands in front of the player, a blank record laid upon it surface, willing to fight a losing battle against fate one last time (or so he tells himself every time). the needle placed upon the record in the same place he always places it, a silent hum washing over the room as the record spins slowly.
he closes his eyes and when he opens them again…
he’s back… the rumbling of the truck greeting him, his comrades patting each other on the back, joy emanating from every uniformed man upon those cramped seats. one claps him on the back and a smile breaks out upon his face. it’s the day of his return.
the truck stops, the men clamber out, crawling over each other, all very eager to see their loved ones again, him always lagging behind, somehow even though he saw this same scene every time, he always wondered… would she really be there? would he actually see her once he stepped off that truck?
of course he sees her the moment he gets off the truck, his eyes knowing exactly where to go to find her, instinct built over time. there she always was, standing far away from the commotion, her eyes lighting up the moment she sees him, yet she never steps forward. for she was already in his arms before she could process it, the warmth of her tiny body against his the thing he clung to the tightest (the last time he held her, she was cold and unmoving).
“yunjin,” he could only murmur, as his arms tightened around her frame, face buried in the delicate crook of her neck as a tiny cry falls from his lips.
he always remembered this day, always thought about this day. always coming back to this day.
today was the day he returned from the war.
today marks exactly a month before he loses his lifeline.
a month before he loses her.
germansingergirl
prguitarman
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
