she believes she's flying, and for once, maybe she is. // @erxsus
The light barely flicks into her room when she wakes, her eyes groggy from whatever alcoholic beverage she had the night before. it's six in the morning when she checks the time on her phone. it's too early for her to be awake, but too late for her to fall back into an uncomfortable slumber for thirty more minutes. she sighs to the disappearing moon and reappearing sun, wishing that perhaps if she closed her eyes again, she wouldn't have to open them again. but wishes were for children whose cheeks burned with the sun, whose eyes lit up like a flame, and whose hearts fluttered at the sight of marveling beauty. and she is no longer a child. she didn't marvel at the beauty of things, but instead she marvels at the cracks beneath the masks that people wore to hide their ugly.
but she drowns the thought, gets up, and showers yesterday off her body. it's eight in the morning, and she's gliding through the shelves. she tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, whispers to herself her favorite lines from novels she hasn't touched in decades and smiles. this is a safe place for her. there’s no one to come in and pull the hurt from beneath her skin out in the open. but as she sits on the stool behind the counter, her chrysanthemum tea cooling beside her fingers in her cup, she isn’t so sure about that anymore.
the bell twinkles and the opened door brings with it a small wind. her downcast eyes gaze upward, voice ready to greet the customer, but instead the voice dies at the sight of a girl whose eyes knows too much. she’s almost learned how to love those eyes of hers, but the fear of getting swallowed up by them forces her to stop. a tormented soul is a soul that is unloved. love it, and it will learn to break you. "Star," She whispers carefully, almost afraid that if she speaks too suddenly, she would disappear. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"
the girl waltzes over, unhinged and eyes ready to tell a story that jieun is not ready to hear. but she readies herself to hear it anyway. “You look unwell. Is something the matter? Did the tea I recommended not help with the headache?”
a tormented soul is a broken one. try to heal it, and it will send a war.
