kati :>

he’s the type to laugh off his bad grades when they’re handed off to him. when you’d plop a packet of study guides in front of him, he’d take his two pencils and drum on them instead, scribbling nonsense into a subsiding notebook he’s dedicated for musical notation. it would irk you, right until you’d remember that he’s a boy that attracts success like some sort of magnet. that’s when you’d have to take a sigh to brush off those nerves, going back to staring at the cluster of words littering your own page. you have to earn your own success, and let your boyfriend live in peace.

it’s one of many problems. your severe case of perfectionism dangles praise like a carrot on a stick. it’s an unhealthy need for achievements, but watching yourself accomplish full racks of responsibilities makes you feel great when it’s all over. it heals something in you. it’s just in your nature.

for goo gunil, he’s lived his life differently for all his years. he gets through enough, and his heart controls every move he makes. he knows everything is going to turn out fine, and so whatever happens he trusts is for the better. “everything happens for a reason.”

in your eyes he’s just holding onto you and feeling the breeze while you jump over the hurdles in life.

but, he does do something for you. he gives you what you want to hear. the greatness of, “you’ve done well.” the cheeky smile and laughter that would erupt once you’ve filled him in on some award you’ve earned. the words leaving his tongue are all nurtured with love, care, and - your favorite - genuine pride. it forms a sense of validation that you’ve felt deprived of for so long, that has now finally found its way to you in the form of someone who is your polar opposite.

someone who you love.

your developed feelings for him have grown into something bigger. what you’ve found both fond and frustrating about him now sticks in the corners of your brain, and just a graze over those thoughts would send countless flutters over to your heart. but you won’t admit it, because why would you?

“i love the way you write.”

gunil is peering over your shoulder as you intensely review your work. the page is scribbled with desperate recollections of your lesson on chemistry. it’s a study strategy that tweezed everything out of your brain, but it’s less effective when your boyfriend’s finger is tracing over the lines of your written words; he’s entranced as if they’re stars you’ve hand created and shipped to the sky.

you barely comprehended his compliment in the midst of chemistry compounds. you manage to mutter a small, “thank you.”

a small smirk decorates his face when he notices your writing slowing down, so he shoots at the opportunity. “can you write something for me?”you turn, eyes meeting his puppy ones that spared such an innocent glare. it could be anything. anything but, “‘i love goo gunil’”

there he goes again, begging for those words. the moment you said those magic words, he’s asked to hear it like it was the jingle to his favorite tune. but you’re shy and, more importantly, reserved.

you already admitted those words once, and after your ears stayed red for weeks. you could say it one billion more times if it didn’t suck out all your pride for some strange reason. but that’s not the case, and frankly, once was enough for you. just, not for him.

and you do love goo gunil, but you plan to cut this moment dryly. with a swift dig into the paper, the lead in your pencil snaps, and you find your excuse. you lazily say, “oops.”

it's the second best holiday of the year. aligned trees now enter the process of stripping their colorful leaves that now hang lifelessly off the branches. fuzzy boots follows the trail of the fallen leaves, and the harmonizing crunches down the street creates the soft melody of sweet autumn.

pumpkin meadows flourish in popularity. the scent of cinnamon and apples wraps a steam blanket around a pie tent. the air is something you've been craving for months now; it’s given you a crisp feeling that brings you warm comfort.

you’ve been able to attend all the fall festivities this year. your carved pumpkin sits outside your apartment, a singular light flickering your creature to life. you ranked all the pies you’ve tried this month, with apple sitting on its throne untouched. funnily enough, you also apple picked at a local farm. the assortment of your favorite fruit piles inside your fridge, their crystal glow enticing you every single time you look at them.

but all these activities you’ve done alone. your autumn checklist was too ambitious, and midterms shifted your availability to avoid your friends’ invitations. that’s why when the very last day of october arrived, your best friend forced you to make an exception for her. the halloween bash she's hosting is not a cozy one, but you have to do something fun and social before marbles start getting lost.

mingi is your only friend from the university, which you think is imperative when it comes to the reputation of this school. social gatherings is a pledged promise of the students; there are always grand events happening around campus, and the committee never finds it in themselves to lose creativity. in turn the students feel more like community, and the friend groups tend to be large. mingi's house party depicts that principle perfectly. even more, not a single person in here is worried about midterms.

as you look through the sweaty piles of people, you find some familiar faces from your fair share of group projects and school events. the few conversations are brief and soon enough you're stuck alone, waiting for your only friend to tend to you while keeping her house afloat with the large crowd.

"hey, you made it!"

she's one of the fairies from tinker bell - one that you can't seem to remember. nonetheless your lips curve wide after she's found you sulking on her couch.

"what a crazy party! do you know all these people?" you think this is the loudest you've been, trying to talk to her over both the music and her adrenaline.

mingi shrugs, plopping herself next to you as her arm wraps around yours. "are you bored? you should be mingling!"

"i feel a bit too embarrassed."

the two of you look over your body. it's a simple green princess gown that doesn't seem to draw immediate attention. however, if you get it...

"WOAH, you're princess fiona! WOAH."

mingi laughs, a little too hard. you playfully shove her as your ears burn up, "it’s too silly, isn’t it..."

her hand grasps your arm as she drags you into the kitchen. for now it's empty, and the table holds all the hard liquor and fruity drinks you could think of. "just drink a bit! loosen up, have fun~"

there's no time to protest. you're left stranded next to the island that holds all the drinks, many of which are unfamiliar to you. it takes you a minute to grab one, just for you to let go of it and stare at the selection as students filter in and out.

"it's a little overwhelming, right?"

the voice feels soft, yet you hear it clearly over the music. when you turn to your left, the girl who spoke matches her voice perfectly. a pouty smile sitting perfectly underneath her brown doe eyes. her hair is a bright hazel that innocently sits as a single braid, tiny strands of hair peering out of the tucked in look. along with her grin, a faded blush bounces on her cheeks; it seems to be from romand rather than any liquor.

she's the cutest, it brings you to match her smile. "ah, it really is."

your eyes continue to observe the woman; you notice the familiar costume she's wearing. it's a green sleeved dress with little gold embellishments. a laugh quickly breathes out of your lips, and she giggles at your quick notice.

"fiona must've been a popular choice this year, huh?"

she laughs at your remark and replies, "you're pulling it off so much better though." you can tell her intentions are to make you feel like the prettiest princess there, and now your own shade of romand blush colors your cheeks. "i'm mingi's cousin, yeona!"

you gasp, "oh, i've heard about you!" you already find yourself in a bow, greeting her formally. "i'm y/n, a friend of mingi's. it's nice to meet you."

she mirrors you completely, and the air finally feels comfortable for the first time since you've walked into this party. you find yourself sitting there, chatting with the girl as the two of you find plenty of common ground. yeona is a violinist attending a prestigious musical arts university just right around the corner of your school. the students tend to be quiet and elegant, and while yeona doesn't really fit the elegance she is soft-spoken like the rest of her peers. but her aura is comforting, and your energies match like puzzle pieces. for instance, she's an avid watcher of kdramas like yourself. it led the two of you to discuss your harsh disappointments among the catalog, your first target being infamous love alarm.

yeona learns much about you too. you attend a social school simply because it's a common one, and perhaps the easiest one to get into. out of all the majors that were presented to you, the winning choice became natural sciences after a coin flip. you haven't quite figured out where you want to be in ten years, and you're content with taking your time. the only thing you want to do is enjoy your time before life becomes a consuming loop of work.

yeona notes that and studies your personality more. you tend to find yourselves on the slice-of-life dramas, and your taste in books are hopeless romantic core. a pattern begins to illustrate itself.

you both find yourselves lounging around the kitchen for quite a while, your conversations being fueled by admiring the many costumes that flutter into the kitchen every now and then. neither of you take another glance at the drinks beside you, and eventually you agree that it's not a priority to drink heavy. you feel like you've found your other half.

after twenty minutes, something interesting happens. a duo of boys arrive, their loud laughs halting your conversation as your eyes peer out of curiosity. both are wearing a garment that you're unable to piece together for a while. but then it hits you; the bulky, round fabric mimics the crisps of the iconic kid's food.

unlike the other visitors, the pair of boys spot you and yeona and engage in conversation.

"oh - you're both princess fiona!"

he's the shorter of the two. his hair is a bright blonde and his cheeks high and defined. yet the look he shoots you guys is pure astonishment and amusement. he's gripping his friend in excitement, a boy who's also bouncing. this boy has darker locks of luscious hair that tuck right behind his ears. his almond eyes sparkle and he equips a wide smile, all 32 teeth shining brighter than those eyes.

and they are dressed up as, "chicken nuggets?"

their surprise grows, "yes! you're the first person to actually get it."

you and yeona gently glance at each other as the two celebrate their victory which only conducted further hops and laughter. when they're finished, they approach the drinks and stare with their arms crossed and their seriousness suddenly skyrocketed. you feel like you're watching a sitcom, wondering how people can be this bubbly and animated in person. but it's funny.

"okay jooyeon. which one of these is our first target? this decision is incredibly important and will impact how the rest of our night goes..."

"...i've never had any of these before. AH, kool-aid though!"

the blonde wiggles his arms, "i was thinking the same thing."

the duet proceeds to grab the jug of fruit punch, one that's meant for mixing alcohol into but instead is poured sober. they take their swigs and scream in unison when done, like drinking nonalcoholic kool-aid was the biggest thrill of their life.

you can't help but laugh out loud, and it gives yeona the courage to talk to them, "isn't it just plain kool-aid?"

the taller one, who you've concluded is jooyeon, grins as he points at yeona. "it tastes better than vodka!"

you're nodding along, "and beer."

yeona loudly agrees with you; a true hater of beer.

"i think beer is yummy." the odd one out frowns, going in to pour himself another shot of the virgin fruit juice.

jooyeon shoves him, "jiseok's actually just a freak."

"you scream at vegetables."

jooyeon suddenly gets loud, "YOU DON'T GET IT!"

the room laughs comfortably. yeona covering his face and you slap your knees, the air is light.

"i'm yeona, mingi's cousin."

you’d feel awkward not to follow yeona’s introduction, "i'm y/n."

the boys have a kind smile at your introductions, and introduce themselves despite knowing you've already used context clues to put a name to their faces.

"how do you guys know mingi?" yeona asks.

jiseok turns to jooyeon who answers, "we used to be group mates for a writing class and we became casual friends." jooyeon then nudges to his friend, "he's just my plus one."

"in the non-romantic way." jiseok adds.

you mention, "trying to distract us from the couple's outfit, huh?"

his hands fly up defensively, "no no, i promise this makes sense."

jooyeon straightens his posture, holding his friend's shoulder as he presents themselves, "we do this podcast called nugget time. it's a bit popular around campus."

"WOAH, i've heard about it actually." you laugh. "it's like we're meeting celebrities right now..."

jiseok wiggles his eyebrows, "do you want our autograph?"

yeona cuts in, "actually, it's popular around mine too! many of the students think it's too childish and immature, but everyone there is also pretty stuck up." she shines a smile as she gives a thumbs up, "personally, i like it a lot. you guys are doing very well!"

it’s a cliche move, but jooyeon feels his heart lighten. a surprise attack of butterflies invade his stomach until his cheeks burn. his eyes fall softly as they stare at the girl who chose not to follow the stale crowd, and instead express her support for his pride and joy. he's in a daze for a minute, lost in discovering her delightful features. "aha, thank you."

jiseok's a lot more normal when he thanks the girl, but he notices how stiff his friend becomes at the compliment. a small grin compliments his face. he internally puts himself in a tuxedo with the coolest pair of sunglasses as he suggests, "do you guys mind if we hang around here with you?"

the coolest wingman.

you can't help but feel proud of yourself for meeting new people, and getting lucky enough they were a funny and kind bunch. your shoulders have inched behind you, relaxed and no longer tense from earlier. your smile creeps up naturally and responses fly out of your mouth easily. it surprises you when an hour passes of general conversation carried by boiling chemistry and fruit punch.

the house roars, snapping all your attentions to the living room. what probably started off as sober laughs have become drunk wails. aggregation becomes the look of the dance floors as drunk men start to shove one another for who knows why. your ears catch onto the occasional glass shatters and you briefly wince, "ough, it's getting kinda loud in here."

jooyeon tilts his head, "you're right... should we go outside?"

yeona leans in, nodding to express her interest in the offer.

it's a hassle. your newly formed crew attempts to slither past the sea of sweaty students without getting dragged in by any drunk sharks. jiseok locks his hands on top of jooyeon shoulders, creating their lonely conga line of two. they get further than you and yeona, who are caught by a hungry one.

"y/n! yeona! are you leaving already?"

mingi's cheeks are a dangerous color of red. pale lipstick smudges all over the lid of her red solo cup, and beads of sweat twinkle on of her round nose.

you simply nod, sparing her an apologetic smile. you clear up, "we're just heading outside!"

"okay!" she clears the rest of the liquid in her cup in one quick swig. "i'll come too!"

yeona leans in to her ear, "are you sure? this is your party!"

mingi shakes her head as she pushes the two of you until you're all standing outside, breathing fresh air. "it's too hectic in there; i don't wanna deal with it."

jooyeon and jiseok are walking in place as the duo waited for your arrivals. their bright smiles greet the host who looked them up and down a couple of times before shrugging. jooyeon shouted, "nuggets!" 

"OHH...kay?"

you and yeona snicker, and mingi just rolls her eyes at the reactions. after a while you plop yourself on the grass, relief unable to hide itself once you're finally able to hear the silly voices in your head once again. one being, "aghh, i can't believe you had no candy in there mingi! it's like you wanted me dead or something..."

"well!" she lightly laughes, seating herself right beside you as her arms wrap to embrace you lovingly. "i'm sorry."

"could've gone trick-or treating instead..."

"at the age of 23?"

"your problem?"

yeona cuts in, "you're never too old to go trick-or treating!"

you and yeona hold each other's hand in solidarity. the bit is funny to you two, and she developed a weird craving for candy as soon as you mentioned it.

mingi defeatedly sighs, peering her head to watch her neighborhood streets. they're not totally vacant; a handful of children happily scurry around with buckets or full-sized candy brimming to the top. occasionally their innocent eyes would swipe over mingi's house, one that's overly decorated for the occasion but very much not an open source to candy. you would defend this inference.

"there still might be time...should we go?"

jiseok's suggestion sprouted from watching the groups of kids flutter in happiness with their newly-acquired snacks. he also grasped onto the size, not afraid to admit that mingi seemed to live in a wealthier neighborhood. if an opportunity ever showed itself prominently, this was it. he's also a boy who craves these types of spontaneous activities; a group of college kids politely robbing rich people of their candy just to live up to halloween's truest image.

to be honest, you felt the same way. you wanted to feel your heart skip at the sound of candy stacking itself into your bag - one that you don't have. "wait, but how will we carry the candy?" 

-

it's an hour later. chocolate, sour, and sweet all ride up to the tip of your red solo cups. you guys only hold two cups per person, but it remains mingi's brightest idea up until the moment the crew realized this neighborhood was indeed not a judgement free zone.

"this mom just stared me down...do you think she wants me?" yeona piques, a smile cracking through her chapped lips. jooyeon, high off excitement, laughs as his body leans against her momentarily.

you're staring at something else though: jiseok's red solo cup. there's a sour patch topping his stack, beautifully beaming like a shiny cherry. after digging through your own, you feel a childish envy crawl all over you skin. "augh, you got a sour patch..."

jiseok doesn't spare a second, scoring the piece of candy right into your hands. your ounce of adulthood flickers back, and you throw it back to him. "oh no, it's okay!"

it hits you back, "no, have it!"

you laugh, guilt building up. "jiseok, don't worry! i can buy my own."

"im going to glue it to your hand."

you launch it to his shoulder in a rough manner, "enjoy it for me~"

as the bickering lives on, everyone lays down on mingi's lawn. candy sprawls out, like how it would on a kitchen table while your mother sniffs for any dangerous pieces. except it's college students, with the security checkpoint half way down their stomachs.

"mingi...right?"

there's a boy standing over the said girl. her eyes, slightly bloodshot, stare at him as if he's a hallucination. she treats it as one too; not a word passes through her lips. the boy uncomfortably shifts at her silence after a couple seconds. his hand reaches for the back of his nape, cooling the heat of embarrassment as all five pairs of eyes watch over him.

"oh, sorry. i uh...came to this party with one of your friends, but im not sure where she went... i was hoping you'd know?"

"who..?" mingi's host voice appears.

"ari."

"ARI'S HERE?"

the boy sheepishly laughs, "i mean...i hope she is."

mingi doesn't listen to him. instead she's attempting to get up, her dress riding up in all the wrong places. her spilled candies dig into the grass as she accidentally steps on them. she quietly murmurs something that nobody is able to decipher. what's heard is the small exchange she performs with the boy, "oh, and who are you?"

"jungsu. ari's my sister."

"ARI HAS A SISTER?"

"n-no, i'm her BROTHER."

the conversation feathers away as the pair dives into the abyss of the house. it will be the last time the group hears of mingi for the rest of the night.

jooyeon's heart quickens as candy plunges into his stomach. yeona watches him quietly for a while. that's when she points, "after this, you'll be having salad for days."

jiseok huffs, "jooyeon wouldn't go in a ten-foot radius of a piece of lettuce!"

the victim nods, turning to yeona with a sense of pride, "you couldn't pay me enough money to eat a salad. sorry." 

yeona nudges him, "you're just not having the yummy ones. i'll show you the good ones and change your mind! just you wait."

jooyeon doubts so, but he can't help but fall helpless to her commitment. he would try anything if it meant he could be around her more. that's why the veggie hater replies to the threat, "i'm open for that, let's do it!"

jiseok stares at his cup that's now lighter. a bright colored wrapper catches his eye, and he smiles to himself. he fixes his position, now sitting at curb of the road as his legs dangle outside his bulky costume.

"y/n, come!"

you crawl until you’re beside him, knees brought close to your chest as you wait. jiseok rips the wrapper down the side, and offers you access to the sour patch candies. "let's share the bag~"

your mouth widens, "wait really? are you okay with that?"

he nods, trying his best to convey his genuine smile just so you'd know. it's enough to get you thanking him over and over again, just until the sour hits your tongue and satisfies that specific craving.

jiseok rolls his eyes, "it's more fun to share stuff, right?"

"it's nice…thank you~"

in the midst of foggy memories he faintly remembers. he was 3 years old when his parents moved him into the middle corridors of the infamous pink palace. yet hyeongjun has great memories here, even if many of them are of his mother and father rotting away at their computers, leaving him to twiddle his ten fingers and stare at peeling wallpaper. it wasn't until he reached the age of 10 where he was ripped away from the scene he grew comfortable of. the boy was forced to abandon the rustic home, carrying over to a suburban city and settling into a house colored grey. then he lived a mundane life, absent of any significant times.

now he's 22 and staring back at the pink palace that towered over him like a scientist and its specimen. a moving truck beside him hustles out muscled men, each heaving boxes and equipment into the corridors he once resided in during the golden ages of his childhood. the perfume of humid air grants him the whiff of nostalgia that he's been craving for years.

everything is the same. the wallpaper's faded blue still rots and peels off at the corners, and the floorboards still rhythmically creak following his patters. each and every room upholds their signature item that he's legally agreed to not remove, including a sprung out piano in the study room and the dried paintings in another.

hyeongjun attempts to relive each core memory. he begins in the kitchen, putting together a meal of slob, one that's unable to satisfy him the way his mother's meals would. instead this mirrors his father, who would whip up meals that would send jun hungry for the night.

as he's searching for a drawer to keep his utensils in, there's one filled with keys, and he encounters confusion. there's no clue as to what each one unlocks. the concoction of silver and gold blinds him, but when he rummages around to gain familiarity, a peculiar black key blurs out the rest as the peak of unfamiliarity.

it's black, smooth, and made completely out of plastic. the curvy handle snuggly fits the palm of his hand; it mimics a button with 4 rectangular holes poked out.

the encounter shifts the mood to one that's uncomfortable; the key's complete defiance of uniformity claws at him for interest, but hyeongjun quickly looks away. he decides: any unfamiliarity this house gives him goes against the reason he’s come for. and so he doesn't spare the topic another minute, placing the object back in its home and steering away to a different task.

when hours pass, he begins to unpack in one of the many study rooms of this place. his eyes scan over the contract-bounded painting that illustrates a blonde boy, teary-eyed over fallen ice cream. it's sad, and it's boring.

"one boring, blue boy."

hyeongjun recalls the tasks his father had given him when he was just 7. to avoid the pestering presence of his son, the man sent him on a quest to find every blue object in their house. this painting was the first to be jotted down.

as a boy, he thought that was something fun. a thoughtful game to keep hyeongjun's young curiosity fed. but 15 years later, it falters just a bit. a hint of realization blasts out the scene for him, and the boy in the painting stares at him in pity.

when he's done assembling a coffee table, hyeongjun sits up and looks around the room for its placement. an unfamiliar accent in the walls finds his eyes first.

it's a short door outlining the lifts in the wallpaper, and it's easily noticeable. his body unknowingly gravitates towards it, tracing the ripped outline and immediately tugging it. the door is locked.

senses of unfamiliarity sprinkle the scene, so again his interest dims. hyeongjun sighs and gets up off his knees to tend to his table again. but minutes pass, and when he's done decorating the study table the door continues twinkling for attention. his mind feels numb, not processing the movement of his body being draggeg past dirty dishes and knocked over boxes, just until his hands acquire that black button key once more. it was a quick motion, and he finally gathers his clear mind once he's eyeing the door with a shimmering key, bound to answer something.

he shakes his head, breathing carefully as he inserts the key like an easy puzzle; it's a perfect fit. there's a satisfying click to perk up his two ears, and his stomach drops. when it naturally swings towards his direction his imaginative mind draws out a variety of anticipations. he expects anything.

he expects anything but nothing, and that's what he gets: a load of red bricks.

"agh." his groan echoes as he slams the wall back into place. he can't find it in himself to waste any more of his efforts with this side plot, so he leaves the key on top of his newly furnished table. now his worries offer the task of tending to his bruised mind. he readies for his favorite night-time activity: sleep.

he's changed successfully, and he’s now tucking himself into crimson sheets as he scans the familiar room. it's so comfortable, and he's at ease now that he can reside right where he wants to be. stuffed bunnies occupy each cubicle in the storage compartments across him. the nightstand holds a collection of childhood photos of the people he cherished the most, though many he had lost contact with. a lone chair sits at his left side, similar to how it was years ago when his mother would sit and guard him from the monsters hindering beneath the bed. it all gives him a warm embrace, and his eyes delicately fall with a smile softly pursed on his lips. he falls asleep, gently.

tap tap tap, squeak squeak.

they're the only sounds filling the room. hyeongjun can't pinpoint the location of these rodents. he lays down on his side, eyes jumping from box to box to catch something. then he lunges to peek underneath his bed. that’s where he successfully finds the perpetrators.

squeak squeak. tap tap tap.

the mice jump when noticing the large, soulful eyeballs peering above them. the feeling is fright at first, but it becomes excitement fairly quickly. the squad scrambles and reunites at the crack of his bedroom door, then they stare right at the boy. their movement conveys, "follow me."

it's fortunate to them that he catches on. tucking in his bare feet into a warm pair of slippers, he approaches the party who race away from his grasp. he's subconsciously eager to follow them.

hyeongjun finds himself back inside the drawing room, the boring blue boy waving at his reappearance. but the room is dark, and his inability to flicker on the lights leads him to wander the room in the dark. he's relying on the inkling that the mice have led him here, as well as the tiny patters scattering close by. one of them squeaks, prompting a symphony of others as they call him over.

the mice stand in front of the small door, sparing time for hyeongjun’s eyes to adjust to the pitch black room. his eyeballs greatly expand the moment they adjust and witness the band of critters slip through cracked wallpaper, squeezing into the door full of bricks. it's a magic trick that astonishes jun.

he's frantic to follow, and his heart skips with a fallen jaw at the colorful tunnel that greets him the moment the small door flies open. there's a faint feeling of unfamiliarity again; however, this time around he feels like a piece of metal against a magnet. rather than extracting himself from this horrifying foreign piece, his body remains glued to it. his eyes scan over every inch of the tunnel until they're led down another exit, from that point on impossible to make out just where exactly he'll be led to if he were to venture on.

fear creeps up on him, but it's hard to distinguish in the whirlwind of curiosity he's in. he’s not used to adventure, but rather comfort. weirdly, unfamiliarity feels faint too. so he begins to crawl.

the texture encapsulating him spreads a childish familiarity to his head, comfortable like nostalgia always provided. twinkling melodies surround him as he crawls with a shake, eyes studying the navy blue atmosphere beyond the material trapping him. he's certain that there's no end to the slate though, and setting loose into it may send him spiraling into an abyss of starry and eerie nothingness. he decides to continue down the tunnel, meeting a similar door to where he's entered. when he's finally through, everything feels similar. he's back at the drawing room.

burdened, he shakes his head as he lets off a slew of curse. this room is beginning to frustrate him, tugging at him like a pest. all it has is a stupid door and a line of snowglobes to accompany the sad, sad painting of a boy smiling at his ice cream-

that's a difference. easy to miss, but clogs his mouth at his keen notice.

he pulls himself up at the notice, hands fixing themselves into one another as his fingers intertwine anxiously. his first step barely sweeps past his leg, and he almost sends himself spiraling back down until he saves his footing with frantic attempts to balance. the feeling of fear has made itself evident now when he's already two steps in.

his heart thumps, trying its best to send him back down the tunnel he wandered through. but delicious aroma swirls fill his nose and distracts these attempts. it smells delicious, and more importantly, it smells familiar.

he follows the sound of sweet, melodic humming coming from the kitchen.

his feet come to a halt when he sees the figure. his hands disconnect, covering his mouth as his heart skyrockets in speed. his legs begin to wobble like an ancient building destined to collapse at the earth's strongest shock.

"mom?"

she spins around, a youthful smirk decorates her radiant skin as her songful hums come to a halt. her hair is jet black, movement is swift, high spirited. it's all different to how he knew the older women, yet one difference made itself the most evident.

those eyes of hers, once brown and soulful, were replaced with big black buttons. she has button eyes.

"you're just in time for dinner hyeongjun!"

"you..." jun almost chokes on his words, shock striking his words out of order like a bolt of lightning. "…you're not my mother..."

the figure's head tilts, "of course i'm not. i'm your other mother."

hyeongjun doesn't know if he should step back, but as long as a knife isn’t put against his throat he decides to stay. he stands still with his eyes scanning the setting. the kitchen is decorated to his childhood memory; photos of the family pinned up on nearby walls, a fridge with accents of alphabetical spellings he recalls playing with often. everything practically mirrors the world he once knew, everything but those damn button eyes.

he investigates, "i don't have have an other mother."

"of course you do! everyone has an other mother." she turns around, staring at the contents in her pan. "dinner is ready, so you should hurry and eat! there's a show the neighbors invited you to~"

hyeongjun sits down hesitantly. his nose catches scent of every food he could think of, a menu that mirrors the way his mother’s on special occasions such as birthdays and holidays. except this one is odd; the woman was not his mother. his knees anxiously bounce in place at the realization that he's hearing her voice, reliving a special memory after a long time. why does the world feel too vivid to dismiss as a dream? nonetheless jun sits with his wobbly knees, heart starting to creep up into his throat like he's bound to throw it up before his meal.

"i-i'm not um...hungry."

it's a lie. the image beholding him was one he's been craving for years: mother's cooking for special events in the family of 3. where she'd cook all his favorite meals with a bright smile cradling her gentle face. moving into the house, he hoped his brain could flicker these images to bring back those waves of happiness from the past. but this wasn't it. his mind feels like it's running laps in attempt to escape, yet it's unwillingly satisfied at the damned feelings of familiarity and nostalgia.

"okay~" she turns around, "then you should get going! you don’t wanna keep your friend waiting..."

an unnerving grin from the other mother accompanies jun to the door, where he meets a familiar childhood friend. the familiar brown locks of his is symbolically shiny enough for jun to recognize the boy even aged. his body fits into worn-down adolescent rocker clothes, rips brimming his jeans and some american band headlining his dark shirt. he's almost identical to his younger self, all except just a bit taller.

and that there are black buttons taking hold of his eyes.

"jiseok...?"

hyeongjun knows who he is, but he still speaks cautiously not knowing who exactly he is.

“haven’t you missed him, dear?” her high pitch voice tings at hyeongjun’s ears. “in this world, he’s just as you remembered him.”

hyeongjun’s head tilts, and his friend’s head mirrors. there’s a smile, but everything is hallow. everything is scary, everything is unfamiliar. his heart sinks when he’s finally realized what’s happening. a pinch is needed to pull him out this dream he dismissed so quickly, but when his other mother grabs his skin and pulls him outside the house, he’s only dragged deeper into this nightmare.

where the hell is he?

an artificial full moon decorates the sky, freckling stars scatter around. the trees are still, not a breeze trickles by. hyeongjun tries to blink away the daunting emotion of fear, but it occurs to him that he’s the only being here whose eyes could do so. his heart attempts to jump out of his body.

“the downstairs neighbors are waiting! go ahead now~”

jiseok begins to walk, but hyeongjun remains as still as his neighboring trees. he’s watching the other mother go stale, button eyes clean enough to reflect his horrified gaze. her smile is crooked, fake, and one that his real mother would never show. her fingers overlap one another politely, and as she goes idle they tap on her knuckles to a tempo. it’s an unnerving scene, one that doesn’t seem to have an end. that’s when jiseok’s cold hand takes junhan’s sweaty palms, dragging him down the stairs and onto the porch of their downstairs neighbors.

jun recalls it all. everything from the food, the friends, the shows. everything being illustrated reflects the old memories that he’s grown to miss. but here, everything is corrupted. the sky doesn’t seem real, the air feels denser, his friend’s hand is freezing like it belongs to a corpse. the pit in his stomach digs itself deeper like a twisting knife. he’s lost, confused, and scared. how can you take action when all these emotions paralyze you instead? when there’s no knowing if something sinister awaits your rebellious move, or even worse, waiting for you if you comply.