( ... )
another beat of silence before he shifts to fully face her, long legs crossing as he sits openly, his gaze imploring and his smile so, so warm. "i thought, maybe... ah, maybe it would help if you heard that," he whispers, then it's clear that he's fallen into a bout of contemplation. he gets up, disappearing for a moment, and returns with a glass of water. "drink, noona. do you want to just sit here for a moment or go out for a walk? the night's young and the ocean's inviting. we can walk along the shoreline, if you want?"
momo didn’t speak, not right away.
somewhere within, there were words. but they had curled in on themselves, like overwatered petals. she sat there, statuesque, wilting away. not moving, not blinking. her limbs trembled faintly as a cold glass was pressed into her hands, the heaviness anchoring her in reality. condensation bled down her knuckles as she lifted it to her lips. she drank it all at once, a conspiracy of thirst and a desperate desire to grasp at herself.
still, it sat too heavy within her stomach, sloshing with every breath as if she had swallowed a small sea at storm, restless and wild.
there were more pressing things, however. like how she could feel his eyes on her, wary, unsure. she could hear the soft scrape of oversized jeans on the floor whenever he moved. she could smell the familiar but faint scent of his cologne. and most of all, she could feel his presence near her.
and yet, she didn’t look at him.
couldn’t, maybe. not yet.
the silence was thick, yet, unlike before, it was breathable. bearable. like she could wade out these waters without being dragged under.
‘sorry,’ she said, her voice barely there. a poor, fluttering thing.
for what exactly, she offers no further clarification. mainly because she, herself, is unsure of where to start. for the scream, perhaps. for the sheer foolishness of her reaction. for being someone who could be seen like that.
her hands continued to shake slightly as she set the empty glass down on the floor beside her. then, they clasped together in her lap in an earnest prayer, wishing herself a stillness that equates only to peace.
‘i think i’ve been… overdoing it,’ she mumbled, more to herself than anything else. ‘the late nights. all the weird shit. the horror movie marathons alone, scary stories to fall asleep to…’
her voice trailed off. she couldn’t finish the sentence because it felt like lying.
in truth, she hadn’t had much time to consume media in general. maybe a few weeks ago, sure. however, she was far from convinced that this was an explanation to her demeanour. after all, she was still grappling with the idea that she had even been asleep.
she stood, slow and careful, like someone recovering from fever, moving towards the window. her palms press against the glass. outside, the night was smudged in charcoal, scattered lights blurred at the edges, and a slip of moonlight not yet shrouded by clouds.
her reflection looked tired, waxy. was she haunted or haunting?
her breath left a patch of fog against the pane, and she wiped it away without thinking. the coolness soothed her further, but she was still not fully herself.
the seconds stretched like taffy: slow, sticky, impossible to break free from.
‘it’s stupid,’ she added, trying to close the wound she’d opened. ‘i’ll be fine tomorrow. i just need to get some proper sleep. promise.’
finally, she turns to him, flashing a weak attempt at a smile.
‘not sure a walk will do either of us any good, i might end up waking the whole country if my eyes start playing tricks on me again.’ the joke hung in the air like a three-day-old helium balloon, barely afloat. she tries to laugh, but can’t fully commit. a balled fist rubbed at one eye, somewhat of a deterrent in her mind, a way to chase away the tricks.
minghao, however, has been at the receiving end of her weak attempts at levity in even the most trying of times. this is just how she functions. anyone who knows her in any capacity should know this.
she watched him for a moment longer. or rather, watched around him, the outline of his shoulder, the shadow of his hand. her gaze never quite settled on his face.
then she turned back to the window.
her arms folded across her chest, a self-contained gesture. the kind meant to hold herself together, even if she no longer felt as though she was falling apart. it was a preventative measure, as is much when it comes to momo.
‘i don’t want you to think i’m—' she began, but the sentence crumpled under its own weight. she exhaled sharply through her nose. a humourless sound.
‘nevermind.’
it would have been a futile task to try and explain herself to him. from all she had gathered and gained in experience with the other, she knew it was not necessary to do so. he would ask the questions he wanted the answers to, but for the most part, he enjoyed the act of solving souls as if they were sudoku. almost methodical in the manner in which he unpicks people.
at least, that’s what she thinks.
regardless, momo was not under any delusions to know that her own fright had frightened him. and to keep her calm, to keep her grounded, he would tread carefully. and he would work overtime to show he understood her over explanation, even if it made little to no sense.
her reflection blinked back at her. hollowed-out eyes. the colour drained from her cheeks, like a photograph exposed to too much light.
and as much as she tried to ignore it, there it still was. that churning in her gut. not fear exactly. not anymore. more like a strange nausea, low but continuous. like she’d swallowed a piece of machinery that should have died by now, but still manages to keep going. a rusted thing, clicking and turning in her gut, out of sync with her jittering heartbeat.
eyes flutter shut. inhale. exhale.
then, her hand dropped from the window, arm heavy at her side.
she turned slowly and leaned back against the glass, head tilted until it touched the cold pane.
no more of this, she thinks.
‘i am really sorry.’ it’s sincere, though she attempts to sound lighter than before. she rubs her nose, her sheepish little habit, and although there’s a ghostling of a smile upon her lips, it doesn’t fully reach her eyes.
‘did i scare you a little?’