hiatus

She doesn’t rightfully live here anymore, daring to make something out of this space she once called home. Just here. They were acres of green to her as a child, fences aside. But she feels smaller now than then, the spark from her eyes drained even with the fire from the lighter centimeters away. Soon, a slow drag of her cigarette, the ashes falling at her side when she lets her arm hang, knows its purpose is brief, impact anything but. It’s a tiring time to think let alone breathe. Quiet means nothing. As it, for once, should.

“He didn’t take me with him this time.”

Shinwoo is steadfast beside her, always. It’s getting pretty old, though never quick enough. “I can see that.”

Shinhye then chuckles, bitter. “Wish he did if you’re still just going to be this formal after all this time.” Wish you were more than just blood. Wish you weren’t okay with having it on your hands if necessary. (It never is.) What gives anymore? 

For a second, it’s quiet again.

“What do you mean?” He’s easily defensive of himself. Funny for a family man. “Just stating the obvious.” The temptation to take her smoke away is strong, but it wouldn’t kill him to stop being so uptight. Plenty of other things could in the meantime, this mindset so alarming and loud he’ll be damned if he imagines anything else outside said bubble. He wants to talk about it even though his heart’s so sure he’s better off not. It’s always always with him. “Can’t imagine the high you two get from being so reckless after all, what more at these hours. But it’s nice to see you opted out.” Shinwoo eyes the diminishing stick in between her fingers, feeling like he spoke too soon. You can’t wonder why he doesn’t talk when he doesn’t need to.

“I’ve gone from a pack a day to a stick a day.” She’s lucky this is all she needs to dismiss his concern. “I promise.” With the cigarette coming close to nothing, she hurries on bare feet to the glass sliding door to put it out. Big, Disappointed Brother Energy from a few steps away on his end replaces the looming wrath of their parents from miles away in case they were to see her around on these premises. It’s no late night car ride, but Shinhye’s back on her feet in this moment, wanting to feel it for all that it is. She feels “here”. No longer small, no longer stuck in the past. That’s enough mourning for tonight. It’s night anyway.

When she turns back around and walks over to join him again, his arms are crossed over his chest, posture a little more lax. Shinwoo is still there. 

“It’s your funeral.” 

It was decided a while ago that there was no use for initiation in the Yoon clan. Wildly different backgrounds, incompatible lives separately led were among the reasons why, but Kiel had failed to mention the less obvious ones—no better than the ones listed before. Thinking this then would be reason enough to shake them off his dull trail, passing them off as “uninteresting”, nothing more than pathetic excuses to ignore a responsibility bigger than everyone involved, he’d taken complete control to welcome the other new changes in his life. Love in ways that weren’t a one-way street, for people, places, things. Hatred but only now for nothing that existed within foresight. Civilian permanently etched on his forehead, on his forearm, along his collarbones, down his ribcage. As planned as unplanned could be.

At least he’d thought so. It was foolish to carry on thinking they’d leave a body behind in a ditch without properly patching up the hole. What baffles him more is that it might just be his own when he sees that cousin of his for the first time at the music store in nine months, as brooding as ever with a righthand man he’d never bothered learning the name of. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he were her boyfriend. He’d think she was nothing more than someone who’s only now wanting to learn something as pretentious as the cello at her age because “why not” and “they have the money for it”. And then he wouldn’t think. He’d stay not knowing, and dinner plans wouldn’t have to be cancelled for the nth time this month just because “piano lessons overshot their time a bit, this kid’s really something else” (the more enthusiastic he is about it, the worse it actually is).

“The devil herself,” Kiel mutters. Not even disappointed nor surprised. Just totally bummed.

(bold all that applies. italicize leaning. strike former)

WEALTH  —

$   financial.  //  wealthy  / moderate / poor /  in poverty ✚  medical.  //  fit  /  moderate  /  unfit  /  sickly /  disadvantaged  /  disabled  /  not applicable ✪  class.  //  upper  / middle-working /  poor  /  slave  /  unsure ✔  education.  //  qualified /  unqualified  / studying /  other  /  none ✖  criminal record.  //  yes, for major crimes  / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but has not been caught yet

FAMILY  —

◒  children.  // has one or more children / has no children / wants children ◑  relationship with family.  // close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no sibling(s) / siblings are deceased ◔  affiliation.  //   orphaned  /  adopted  / disowned (runaway) / raised by birth parent(s) /  not applicable

TRAITS  +  TENDENCIES  —

♦  extrovert //  introvert  // in between ♦  disorganized //  organized  // in between ♦  close-minded  //  open-minded //  in between ♦  calm // anxious // in between ♦  disagreeable //  agreeable  // in between ♦  cautious // reckless // in between ♦  patient //  impatient  // in between ♦  outspoken //  reserved  //  in between ♦  leader //  follower  // in between ♦  empathetic  //  indifferent  // in between ♦  optimistic  //  pessimistic  // in between ♦  traditional  // modern  // in between ♦  hardworking  //  lazy  // in between ♦  cultured  //  uncultured  // in between ♦  loyal  //  disloyal  // in between ♦  faithful // unfaithful  // in between

BELIEFS  —

★  faith.  //  monotheist  / polytheist  / atheist  / agnostic / it’s complicated / N/A ☆  belief in ghosts or spirits.  // yes /  no / don’t know / don’t care ✮  belief in an afterlife.  //  yes  / no  / don’t know / don’t care / it’s complicated ✯  belief in reincarnation.  // yes  /  no /  don’t know  / don’t care / it’s complicated ❃  belief in aliens.  // yes  / no  /  don’t know / don’t care ❀  philosophical.  //  yes  / no  /  sometimes

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION  —

♦  sexuality.  /  heterosexual  /  homosexual  / bisexual /  asexual  / pansexual /  demisexual  / questioning ❥  sex.  //  sex repulsed  / sex neutral / sex favorable ♥  romance.  //  romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable ❣  sexually.  // adventurous  /  experienced /  naive  /  inexperienced  /  curious  /  inhibited ⚧  potential sexual partners.  // male / female  /  other  /  none  / all ⚧  potential romantic partners.  // male  /  female /  other  /  none  / all

ABILITIES  —

☠  combat skills.  //  excellent  / good  / moderate /  poor  / none ≡  literacy skills.  // excellent  /  good  /  moderate /  poor  /  none ✍  artistic skills.  //  excellent  /  good /  moderate  / poor /  none ✂  technical skills.  // excellent  / good  /  moderate  /  poor  /  none

HABITS  —

❣ drinking alcohol.  //  never  / sometimes / frequently /  to excess ✖ smoking.  //  never /  sometimes  /  frequently  / to excess ✿ other narcotics.  //  never  /  sometimes /  frequently  /  to excess ≡ medicinal drugs.  //  never  /  sometimes  /  frequently  / to excess ☻ indulgent in food.  // never /  sometimes /  frequently  / to excess $  splurge spending.  // never /  sometimes  /  frequently  /  to excess ♣  gambling.  // never  /  sometimes /  frequently  /  to excess

Shinwoo had one hand on the wheel, his fingers fitting into the molded grip on the plastic neatly, eyes strictly on the road and nothing else. The radio was down low, whatever music that Shinhye had turned it to (after he said not to change it from his favorite station), droning on and on. It was nice to not have the silence that had set in as soon as they left the pier only be filled by the sound of the windshield wiper. They left with little sound, but a lot on their mind after the bodies had been dumped.

That was, until, Shinhye voiced something he’d asked himself a long time ago.

(...)

Casually he glanced over at her, only seeing her stare ahead blankly. The snow wasn’t that interesting, neither was the road, so he was sure his sister was only staring out to avoid his gaze, to focus on anything else than the remains they had seen. He wished he could console her, tell that no, they wouldn’t, that this was abnormal…

That with him he wouldn’t let it be the normal.

But he couldn’t guarantee that. Everything was growing more difficult. The more tension there was, it was inevitable that more death would if they were attacked once more.

“You have to, because you won’t forget it.” His gaze returned to watching out the window, a car skidding in front of them slightly and his shoulders tensing up at the sight. It wasn’t a problem, it was just unnerving enough. “Besides, it’s not the first time you’ve seen it, and it probably won’t be the last.”

And for that, Shinwoo was truly sorry.

OK’s are usually quiet. That’s never what they should be if they want to actually mean something, but they’re... quiet. Soft-spoken sometimes, there but not there otherwise.

She opts out of giving one at all, eyes shut tight to avoid the sight she’s memorized in heart and mind. It was a rhetorical statement to begin with, but for every time Shinwoo goes on without a joke, an extension in her lifespan’s given way. Morbid, anyone else would say. The inner parts of her being are right in telling her it was a jab that shouldn’t have been made in the first place. Her heart saying it wasn’t one anyway.

Misery loves company, Shinhye reminds herself. Yours, especially. Head low, eyes still closed but at a faux ease when she figures the car ahead is well on their way to where it needs to be, she heaves a sigh and clutches slowly at the hem of her dress. The wind outside whistles a somber tune they don’t need, shoulders dropping at the thought, state of proper hydration possibly a hoax if she pretends that’s why her eyes are too dry by now. (Idiot. It doesn’t work that way.)

It’s tiring, to say the least. That, redundant.

She thinks of simpler times, the times being pitch black and spent in pre-existential bliss. The home of a womb, ignorance of the vessel carrying you, her uselessness past caving you in with all her obligatory might. It’s made the process of nine months and another few after that all the less badass, knowing how tight their mother keeps her tongue behind her teeth now. A pattern she’s been familiarized with long before she could talk for herself. Correction: can.

A sigh, then. To break free even if it’s only a temporary time. Like it always is. How cold does it have to be for you to notice a change in scenery at all? She realizes a little too late that it was a scoff. “What, are you looking forward to more?” How can you be so numb? (Tell me you’re not.)

Perhaps it was sudden for Kiel and perhaps Jungah assumed he’d adjust faster than he was. She grew up around men with knives, busted knuckles, and war stories that they’d share with her as she held onto a doll, soaking it all in. Of course, those never prepared her for the reality of it all, but she was at least in company of people who’d understand what she would experience in life.

Kiel didn’t have that.

Maybe she wanted him to, just so she’d have someone else who could grasp it all.

No, no. She didn’t want that for him. Not really, anyway. Jungah just wanted him to have a kick of reality right into his abdomen.

(Her reality.)

She flipped the needle again in between her fingers, a nimble action she was used to just by virtue of staring off at the television while holding onto it. Practice made perfect.

“It’s now a reality you’ll have to deal with. Even as a normal civilian these things can happen if you’re at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong kind of people.” Projecting? Maybe. “If you can’t do it, that’s on you. Not having blood on your hands isn’t a bad thing, but it’s better that it’s your opponent’s blood be spilled than yours.” That was her reasoning, anyway. She walked toward Louis, standing in front of the dress form and flipping the needle in her hands once again, her fingers and the light aluminum barely making so much as a sound. In the next moment, her hand had the pointed end of the needle against the side of the form. “If you don’t want to kill anyone, aim for the sides, there’s a better chance of slowing them down there and less fatalities. Extremities will do you no good.” Turning her head toward Kiel, she scanned over his face.

There was something she envied about him and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“It’ll be scary if it comes to this. You just need to know how to direct that adrenaline.” He was only seeing one aspect of all of this as far as she could understand. “You won’t always be able to run and that’s when this is necessary.” Slowly she retracted her hand and walked beside Kiel, placing her needle beside his. Maybe if he learned to keep his mouth shut from time to time, it’d help him out, since he wasn’t a total idiot. “You’re a Yoon, whether or not you can fathom it. You’ll just need to accept that before you can do any of—” She raised her hand, only briefly, to wave in Louis’ direction. “this.”

Met you by surprise, I didn’t realize That my life would change forever Saw you standing there I didn’t know I’d care There was something special, in the air

Dreams are my real—

He blinks a few times, back to this one. Kiel’s head follows the noise that hadn’t actually stopped: Jungah, talking. Helping him out just as he’d asked, giving a few tips in more ways than one. Right next to him now, apparently. What her hand is like that for, he doesn’t know - oh.

And then, oh.

Oh? Oh, oh.

His hand dumbfoundedly mimics the position of hers, needle fetched from his pocket and fixed between his fingers. He’s here for a reason. You have to keep remembering why. The subtle thrumming in his throat retains its pattern when he repetitively closes his free hand into a fist along to the beat, eyes wandering from Louis’ head to bosom. A needle’s in this one. Your right.

You’re right,

but I don’t want you to be.

But —

Kiel’s steps are small, tentative. Happening, slowly and towards the form with both hands now at his sides, needle still gripped the same manner as it’d just been shown. Just as Jungah had showed you, had been showing this whole time. He’s looking straight into the space where Louis’ eyes could be, nose, mouth, stride only half sure, the hand at his left side now coming to a definite close. Breathing in and out, nothing worth keeping note of aside from the fact that it’s just as casual as can be. Scary being complete bullshit, he thinks, when this mannequin thing isn’t even moving or going anywhere. Louis’ not the one to be worried about now.

Not anymore.

The needle meets his side with nothing more than a relaxed push, palm steadying over the dress form’s shoulder. For five seconds, his grip stays on the needle, the need for contemplation brief as he spots the floor beneath him just as is. No concrete. No blood. Some hesitation, regardless.

His sigh trembles once he’s let that statement hang in the air long enough.

“Alright, noona.” It wasn’t going to stick, they both were well aware the next time she told him to meet her somewhere he’d end up one to five hours late. Unlike their brother, Shinchul’s timeliness was non-existent. No one really cared if he was late. Sure, it wasted people’s time, but when did they ever really need him around? They had Shinwoo who was more capable than he ever would be. He’d resent him if it didn’t make his life easier.

The polyester jacket wasn’t much to keep him warm, but he’d be damned if he put some wool coat over it. He bought it to show off, not to hide away.

He scoffed, looking down at his cigarette and then reaching into his polyester jacket to pull out his pack so he could light another. The jacket wasn’t much to keep him warm, but he’d be damned if he put some wool coat over it. He bought it to show off, not to hide away. “Cut it out.” It was clear (and annoying) that Shinhye would hint at knowing him, or the things he did when he went out. He would pretend otherwise, like he didn’t know what she was talking about. She shouldn’t know, anyway. If their parents or Shinwoo knew… he was sure they’d exile him or something overly dramatic. He’d tell Shinwoo to his face he wouldn’t care if the family disowned him, but ultimately it’d be a lie. He cared and he hated that he did. He took out his lighter after sliding out one more cigarette. “The dance hall seemed like a bore. Why’d you even want me there? Did Shinwoo say you need a supervisor?” Exhaling, he watched as his breath met with the chilled air before fully dissipating. “He care about you too much.”

Her eyes flicker in response to his defeat, become dull just as fast at the mention of the eldest. “I didn’t want you there inside with me.” This translates to I’m not that merciless when it comes to your wellbeing (am I?), the corner of her lips twitching alone at whatever attempt at taunting this is. “And damn right he does, but what you said just now was exactly why I called you as soon as I did.” Actual idiot, Yoon Shinchul, decent looks and a sense of style being the most he could offer to the world at this rate with this careless attitude accompanying it all. Shinhye scoffs and rolls her eyes at this thought, turns away, and walks towards the car.

She’s got her arms clutched over her chest on the short way over, teeth digging into her bottom lip in thought. Winter’s never been her favorite season, and though it’s not snowing yet, the winds are enough for her to wish she hadn’t stepped out of the house at all. Not just today, not just this week. Forever, aka something she knows she could get away with at this age or any for that matter if - well, hm. Slow down a little. Deep inhale through the nose, and then you hold your breath. But then, breathe again. Slow down.

“Sorry.”

Shinchul tapped his cigarette lightly with his thumb, the ash flicking off the end and falling to the poorly paved street. It was a rough night, so he didn’t exactly feel like meeting up with his older sister. She’d understand, probably. Better than Shinwoo ever would. Whatever stick of responsibility that was far up his ass made him run his mouth off with lectures. The world didn’t need that much talking.

“You’re too much of a stickler for time.” But he knew that wasn’t entirely true: he was just being a jerk on purpose. Meeting up at whatever dance hall wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do. There wasn’t anyone there worth seeing. No one worth dancing with. “Next time I’ll send someone or call the house. There weren’t any phone booths nearby.” It was a lie, but that wasn’t important. Lying was something he did well enough to get by, but not well enough to hide all his ‘stupid stunts’ (Shinwoo’s words, not his). Shinhye probably didn’t care much anyway.

“Did you find yourself a guy?”

It was half a joke, half serious. Maybe it’d lessen her anger at him if she talked about something else.

And with that, he took a well-deserved drag of his cigarette.

Some days, she identifies as a lost cause. First name that, last name this. It’s been decided for her long since she’d been named whatever her identity is now. Nothing could have prepared for her for the neglect as a result of that all, and nothing will.

This, hence, would have easily been a distraction at best. But it’s all Shinhye knows, will know in these seconds to come, and if that’s what he’d been going for, then probable cause of anger lies in absolutely nothing. Rises, when he cares enough to make a jab at her lack of company tonight. He cares enough,

“That’s none of your business,” she says under her breath, stealing the stick from her stupid brother’s mouth. Only one kind of drag is acceptable, and she rightfully claims it when she places the end of it in her own mouth. “When I tell you to come, you come.” Slow, languid, careless as predicted. Expected. “Excuses aren’t shit and you know that.”

Then again, maybe you don’t.

A bitter chuckle releases the last of the smoke, the cigarette soon dropped and extinguished on the floor right below the sole of her foot. The only stepping-on she’s capable of, or so Father says. The contentment on his end, lack thereof on hers kills her every time. Cue a ‘like Hell if he knows anything about this’ (maybe the fifth one of her night alone). And so he wins. Will do so, again, and again, and again.

I’m miserable, Shinhye wants to say when the minutes begin to feel like hours again. Does. She doesn’t look Shinchul in the eye once the blunt’s put out entirely, elbow captured by her left hand, gaze on the dim-lit concrete. Hanging your head low is all a lost cause can do, should. But maybe misery isn’t always such a high if,

She held out her hand with the needle.

“First, you never want to let your hand leave your knife. Never switch it between hands. You can have it outward or inward.” With the needle being held outwards and slightly upwards thumb on the top and fingers underneath. “Woohyun taught me this when I was younger so I would know how to hold a knife. Do as I do.” She moved her index finger and put it on the same side as her thumb. This wasn’t the ideal way to practice, but she didn’t think him practicing with a kitchen knife was wise. “Then flip down.” She flipped needle downward, it still safely between her index and ring finger, and used her thumb to pinch it in place as she repositioned her other three fingers. “Now remember, there will be a blade in its place and instead of it being thin and round the handle will be flat.”

Tell yourself alright, and you will be.

After all, you are what you eat.

There’s a quick intake of breath through the nose, quieter when it exits the same way. He’s reminded that she’s always only ever going to talk with purpose, a stark contrast between them he’ll have to put aside for the nth time when he watches the needle get flipped the way it does. Kiel scrunches his shoulders up, shifts them down just as fast, fingers not quite doing what Jungah had demonstrated let alone asked. Still shaking.

He looks at her then, iffy written all over, - head to toe, inside and out. “This is weird business,” he confesses in an exhale. The needle stays in his grip albeit loosely, cheeks hollow for a second as he mulls over a way he can continue his statement with the best intentions. He’s avoiding any gaze, walking away from the proximity of the form in favor of somewhere around the walls. A sigh, and then - “Like. Not monkey nonsense or anything... it’s just.”

Anchors only have good intent, that being to keep you rooted until you’re ready to succumb to anything else. He sticks toes into the floor, heel up and ankle rotating in place to relieve the weight he’s imagining (because a sock’s not really that heavy). As if that will actually help though, ridicule rising up all the way to his chest, shoulders, face until it escapes as an odd mix of a laugh and something else called disbelief. Or so the respiratory system goes. “What do you think of the word ‘scary’?” He raises a brow when he looks her way again, arms held against his chest, the needle flat against his left palm as he grips it with the fingers on his right. “Is that an understatement to you? Because," he continues, “it sort of is for me.” 

It’s exhausting to water down his feelings, but - this an accomplishment before it is anything else.