yeon. yeon, yeon, yeon. seo yeon. a constant element in his dreams. can he call them dreams, still, when he wakes up heaving, on the verge of sobbing each time? in which the shoes would fit, her wearing them during the festival. rosy cheeks that blush underneath the stroke of sunlight. blooming lips that smile underneath the sigh of moonlight. but isnโt she, now? isnโt she blushing, smiling? the absence of ailments another element of his dreams. but isnโt she now, except he is not the one that becomes the cause of them?
in his wretched, wrecked tears, when late night descends so intensely that he cannot pretend like heโs 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 wayโฆ her not remembering. she was cured because of that. she was cured because of them โ because seo hwi can never proffer her the peace of mind to the point where she doesnโt 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 couldnโt break free from the bound as he was taken away, witnessing as she was on the groundโฆ 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, justโฆ just let him care for his sister for a few seconds, lest sheโd die; and then, in the direct misconception of time, distorted to a future heโd never foreseen, anticipated, she stood. healthy, happy. everything he couldnโt provide her. thatโs the time he understood his place, stepping back. again, standing back. just to observe her from afar. healthy, happy. itโs just in the clasp of nights like this that heโd allow himself this form of weakness, because she cannot see him eitherโ thatโs fine, itโs fine. ( donโt cry, a boy once said to the other. )
he swore to never cry in front of yeon. heโs been keeping that vow so well, too well, even after seonho lied about hwi in front of her. skewed her perspective on seo hwi. thatโs fine, itโs fineโฆ itโs fine because if itโs meant her staying alive, heโd 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 wallsโฆ 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, hasnโt she been the reason behind his every act? years and years apart after believing she passed because of a fault he didnโt know where to place. except nam jeon. but sheโs on his side, now. alive, healthy. happy. for that, he keeps his strides. hair unkempt, still. aware that heโs exposing himself to unnecessary risks, but he is, first and foremost, a brother. even when she doesnโt remember. twenty years forgotten, and he has to pretend that heโs 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 fitโฆ donโt trade them. he didnโt. 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 doesnโt recall the way he carried her on his back. โoh,โ he starts. โitโs you.โ
๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐. ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐. with @inaeterna: yeon.



















