#khandescent

( @khandescent )

A month had passed since her last major fight with Ryu. Everything felt somewhat peaceful compared to that wretched day. They had no choice but to communicate with one another but she still felt bitter and she knew that so did he. Even if there was still so much to mend it felt somewhat nice to not be a witness of his anger. It was the one thing she despised and feared the most, she hated it when he got like that and she still had a vivid memory of that day, of how much anger had clouded not only his but her vision as well - things were said that neither of them meant and she despised the thought of that happening again. And as much as she tried to avoid any type of dispute with him she had a feeling that today it wouldn’t be something that could be easily avoided. 

Jinah had been out for a drive ( lately it had become a habit of hers, it felt soothing to just be out for a drive without any destination in particular ) until a minor crash stopped her in her tracks. She was alright, frightened mostly, but other than that she wasn’t injured and thankfully, there weren’t any people around to witness the accident. The only problem was the car, it had a small dent on its bumper. As she stood in front of the car she froze up for a moment as she realized that her only option was to call him, after all, he had bought the car for her it felt logical to message him and ask him for a proper repair shop. She took a few deep breaths trying to convince herself that he won’t freak out over this before pulling out her phone and tapping out her message. 

The semblance of childhood looks like this: the rugged surface of old brick under worn palms, a landscape that comes alive right before your eyes, all green and ripe and overgrown, in how the bittersweet of cloves and sea salt dissolves at the tip of your tongue. Summer time and the world could have never looked more vivid, more so a pleasant fragment of the past than a present-tense reality—feet first on an entirely different continent, and he's feeling more at home here than anywhere else he's been. And yet, the sights that surround him is a perpetual reminder of the differences: the spread of grey pebbles rather than fine white Jeju sand, the lack of the standard beach hustle and bustle—no doubt La Playa de la Rijana is a gem of its own, but the comparisons are made nonetheless—smaller, darker, quieter than what he knows. 

The waves continue to come in, bright blue and lazy in the way they roll over the shore, washing it anew. Behind him stood the lone chiringuito, where the server wipes down his countertops with a damp rag. Sometime ago he had downed a serving of martini straight, and only a single glass at that, before it was back to seagazing silently.

All the while, there's something glaringly incomplete about him, as though he's been emptied out, hollowed through, rendered into nothing but a shell. His very presence is merely physical in nature, right down to the look in his eyes, more vacant than contemplative.  In the back of his mind, candid thoughts are pulled into apparition with less clarity, colored distant, swimming about erratic and unconcerned: the sun's about to set, which means snorkeling wouldn't happen today, but one day. Maybe it'll be back to the heart of Granada the day after that, maybe not at all. Or he'll take that detour instead; drive down, down to the very tip of the south, where Spain nearly touches the Moroccan coast.

Being here was the real mistake, or not getting here soon enough. Been thinking too much, or thinking too little. Fight or flight. Sink or swim. This is how even saferwaters fail to serve him a peace of a mind, as Doojoon is trapped yet once more inside a motion that's akin to a history turning itself over, rinse and repeat and repeat and repeat.

Surely there's an end to all of this.

He pries his eyes off of the horizon and glances at the ground, spots the difference in an instant: a second path of footsteps, nearly identical in direction as the one he'd left previously. There, at the very end, stood a man a little taller than he, looking just as quiet and subdued, not to mention quite familiar. 

It takes a moment, then two and the realization hits: somewhere on the beaches of Málaga this past week he'd seen him, with the engine of an expensive classic model roaring as he had driven by. Fleeting, but enough to make a vague impression, enough to remember. 

Doojoon takes stock once more of his distant companion, all the while making his choices; the pocketbook of basic Spanish vocabulary in the back of his pants is considered briefly, for the sake of amusement, but opts for the reasonable option. 

How long has it been this time? Almost escapes me. The last time we met up was almost a year ago in Manhattan, I think I was about to give a colloquium at Columbia University, in fact. I promised I would have kept better in touch, but you know very well I have a tendency to not tell the truth. It’s a gift I am told, I should have been an attorney.

Anyway, I’ll keep it short.

Currently freelancing with the airforce, a far cry from my previous work, but it’s effective enough to keep me occupied. Met a few unfortunate faces, more than a few disagreements were made. Again, unsurprising with me. How’s your work going?

Ryu was someone Seokmin definitely looked up to, despite the fact he only got to spend time with the older male every once in awhile. The boy had his own brothers, of course-- but Seokjin and Seokhwan just didn’t have the same effect on Seokmin that Ryu had. Perhaps it was due to age-- Ryu just seemed more mature and understanding than his brothers. Even though he was older than Seokmin, he still treated the boy as an equal and was kind to him. As they grew up, their connection grew thinner, but not weaker. It was to be expected, though. Their companies were rivals, after all. CJ and HwalCorp were competing with each other, and Seokmin’s mother had often expressed that while she was okay with her son being acquainted with Ryu, she didn’t want him to get too close. It was bad for business, she said. Being the filial son that he was, Seokmin had simply nodded and accepted the woman’s words. Ryu was his friend-- a very good friend -- but he couldn’t disappoint his mother like that. So he began to stay away-- He didn’t answer the older’s messages as frequently, or spend as much time with him as before whenever Ryu was in Seoul. It made Seokmin sad-- but his mother was much happier. And that was what was most important, right? However, he couldn’t completely alienate himself from the man he considered to be his older brother.

A passing may have happened once or twice. She wouldn’t have remembered anyway unless there was a lasting impression made. There was too much on her mind and too many important things to accomplish for her to be distracted by a stranger, albeit today was his lucky day. 

There was an art gala in town and of course Hyeonu was invited. The woman had made a name for herself in the city thanks to the academy she worked for. Plus her own school works were always quite the talk of the campus to the point it would be displayed for all to see. With this reputation on her belt, she was the most sought after when it came to criticism of one’s piece. There was never a filter for she was always a straightforward person when it came to important matters.

It was slow, probably around mid evening. The event wouldn’t pick up until the sun fell but, unfortunately for her, her attendance was mandatory from start to finish. All was not lost considering she could walk around without being bothered left and right, as well as wear her usual business casual attire leaving her formal for after eight o’clock. The woman leisurely sauntered around every room, scanning each work with heavy judgement. She was mentally taking note of what she would say later on, that is, until a disruption reached her ears. Words were so shocking she couldn’t help but chuckle prior to searching around, looking for the owner of such statement.