#inaeterna

in his wretched, wrecked tears, when late night descends so intensely that he cannot pretend like he’s okay again, he is reminded of the empty gaze held against him. so hollowed, the lack of recognition jarring. but of course, it is better that way… her not remembering. she was cured because of that. she was cured because of them — because seo hwi can never proffer her the peace of mind to the point where she doesn’t need to worry anymore. in this kind of moments, he wonders, is he still a good brother for trying? was he still a good brother for trying? yet, he couldn’t break free from the bound as he was taken away, witnessing as she was on the ground… the shock a havoc rupturing her body, and again, repeat. replay. he sees her in the aperture of failure, unable to move away.

seonho might have lied about her, but it was to protect yeon. from nam jeon, from himself, too. after all, what kind of brother has he been if not the flawed, inadequate? it haunts him to no end, this inability to just reach her, watching helplessly. please, please, just… just let him care for his sister for a few seconds, lest she’d die; and then, in the direct misconception of time, distorted to a future he’d never foreseen, anticipated, she stood. healthy, happy. everything he couldn’t provide her. that’s the time he understood his place, stepping back. again, standing back. just to observe her from afar. healthy, happy. it’s just in the clasp of nights like this that he’d allow himself this form of weakness, because she cannot see him either— that’s fine, it’s fine. ( don’t cry, a boy once said to the other. )

he swore to never cry in front of yeon. he’s been keeping that vow so well, too well, even after seonho lied about hwi in front of her. skewed her perspective on seo hwi. that’s fine, it’s fine… it’s fine because if it’s meant her staying alive, he’d do anything. and can he despise seonho in this case? no. he waits until morning comes, the first light filtered by the gaps in the walls… his father, his sister. he remembers them in simpler times, reminiscences cusping his cheeks with warmth no longer present.

in the first hour of the day, he cannot find calm within him anymore, so he leaves for the market. understands that she might not want to see him again, but what is he, if not made of longing? yeon. seo yeon, hasn’t she been the reason behind his every act? years and years apart after believing she passed because of a fault he didn’t know where to place. except nam jeon. but she’s on his side, now. alive, healthy. happy. for that, he keeps his strides. hair unkempt, still. aware that he’s exposing himself to unnecessary risks, but he is, first and foremost, a brother. even when she doesn’t remember. twenty years forgotten, and he has to pretend that he’s fine.

he notices her from his peripheral view when he runs a hand at the pair of flower shoes, similar to the ones he bought her. and knows that at this moment, he wants none but to hear her say it again: that she will live long enough for the shoes to fit… don’t trade them. he didn’t. and now, it has come true. he dreams of a day when she would those shoes on. and they would fit. he shuts his eyes, willing the thoughts away. she is still there, standing. he turns his head, now. looks at her. looks at her in those vacant eyes. tells himself, again, that she doesn’t recall the way he carried her on his back. “oh,” he starts. “it’s you.”