#nochxser

[ TEXT → Chase ] HYUNG. HYUNG, YOU REMEMBERED WHO I WAS.

[ TEXT → Chase ] IT’S A GOOD DAY TO BE ALIVE. 

nochxser

“Therapy? You want me to go to...therapy?” Maxwell stared at his mother, arching a brow at her. She nodded, her dark hair falling into her eyes. His heart ached slightly at the grey flecks that were sprinkled throughout the locks, and felt a compelling urge to do whatever the dear little woman asked for. 

Except go to therapy. Because, well... therapy is for the crazies. He wasn’t crazy.

“What do you want me to go to therapy for?” He fiddled with his fingers, a habit he picked up from his father, a behavior the two of them performed whenever they were feeling nervous, or awkward. That, plus rubbing of the back of the neck, biting of the lip... he was indeed his father’s child. 

“Your grandmother...” he watched his mother’s eyes drift towards the closed door of his grandmother’s room, “...is dying, Maxwell.”

“I’ve known that since I was like, 17,” he responded, rolling his eyes. He certainly felt 17 sitting on his mother’s couch with the most stubborn expression on his face. 

“I just want to know you’re going to be okay when she does go,” his mother shrugged. “I know you adore her.” He stared at her with a strange look. There’s got to be something more to this therapy thing than learning how to deal with grief. “Look, your father and I have been seeing this one young man, his name is Chase. He’s a marriage and family therapist.”

“Are you getting a divorce?” Now he really felt 17.

“No! We just wanted to strengthen our relationship and learn how to deal with Grandma. We’re also worried since you’ve never had a girlfriend... you know, just to make sure you’re... okay.” He gaped at her now--his own mother thought he was abnormal for not dating and wanted to send him to therapy for it.

This would make a great movie, if it wasn’t about his life.

“Just call the office and make an appointment,” she continued to talk, her pace picking up as if she had to say it all right then and there before Maxwell could get it together enough to refute, “Go in for one session.” She took out a business card and pressed it into Max’s palm before kissing his forehead. “I want grandkids one day. You’re my only hope.”

No pressure. 

Lights flash by at sixty miles per hour. They are not street lights, but lights from other cars along the highway. Where were they headed? One could only wonder. It is on a bus, however, that she hopes to reach her destination – her home town. It has been far too long since she has seen the too familiar sights of the place, as well as heard the familiar sounds. It is a small town, one of which she hopes to rekindle her love for, during this visit.

Music enters her hears via headphones, as her head rests gently against her hand. Her free hand tapping subtly against her denim covered thigh. Luckily, there are not many people aboard the bus. In fact, apart from herself and one other, the rest of the passengers had exited the bus at the previous stop.

One after another, they all found their way off the bus, and back into the unknown of a new, or maybe, familiar city. To each their own, on the road. Everyone had their own destination, just as she had hers.

Eyes nonchalantly wander, gazing upon the various empty seats within the dimly lit bus. It takes her a moment to focus her gaze on the male passenger sitting a few seats away from her. There’s an arching of her brow, along with the tilt of her head, as she curiously observes him from her seat.

How long had he been there? It has been a while since anyone has boarded.

With a stretch, she stands up, and carefully walks along the isle to approach him. Her body swaying along with the bus, for a moment, as it continues down the highway. She sits across from him, the smallest glint of a grin rests upon semi-parted lips.

( 🔗 ) Purgatory. Meaning, they both died.. Chase supposed the good part was neither one of them was sent to the flaming pits of excruciating torment, but still what on earth could he had done to be sent to purgat– never mind. It came to him. He knew he shouldn’t have given advice to Lu regarding revenge and the like. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in that whole situation because now they ended here. It wasn’t like they had murdered anyone or killed anyone. They just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time - coincidentally where Lu’s bullies were. ❝ I knew I shouldn’t have followed you there. If I hadn’t, I’d still be alive. ❞ The therapist sneered and scowled at the younger male. That whole situation cost them their lives and now they had to repent and cleanse themselves of their sins. 

   If Lu had to guess why he was here, he’d attribute it to the sheer balance of noble lives versus terrible ones he’d led. But he was here, awaiting some kind of decision, given a chance he was never offered throughout his existence.

   Death. Rebirth. Amnesia. Recollection. Reunification. The cycle had gone on repeat for as many years as he could muster in his head. Here it had broken. First was complete and utter confusion. Then came worry. His other half - his thread who would always enter new bodies with him was not in purgatory. Instead, this therapist.

   He prickled at the insult, but only offered a sour look in rebuttal, kicking up a rotten leaf from the cold ground.

There are times where your mind sees something but your eyes simply don’t believe it, or don’t want to believe it. Fact typically out rules fiction; the reality of something should triumph over the make believe of a story. So why, now, is it so hard to believe exactly what her eyes are showing her?

Large gray eyes can’t help but bat, as a hand places over her brow. A pillar of flame erupts from the ground before her. Such power; there was no way it came from her own hands, however her eyes deem it so. Could what she saw, and felt, be really what was before her?

Before long, she finds herself on the ground, before all goes black.

There is a white light that seems to shine down upon her, with the opening of her eyes. A hand rises to shield eyes from the light, as the narrowness of her gaze deepens. It is in a hospital room that she gazed upon several of the towns in habitants; the shrink among one of them.

“What happened?”

An inquiry that only brings an uproar from those around her. It would seem her short term memory loss is both bemusing and angering to the towns folk. “You were there,” says the shrink, as he steps forwards. “You saw what happened.” With his words chimes in the voices of others around them. Accusations of Lily wanting to burn the entire town down are made, along with the usual, she’s the daughter of a villain, therefore she must be as well.

Clenching the sheets of her bed, her eyes close, with the shaking of her head. “Stop, stop.” Yet their accusations continue, endlessly.

A light, airy chortle escapes his lips while his large hand runs through his ebony locks. He told himself that quite periodically, but each night was spent in solitude. Not that he really disapproved of that matter. Although, some sort of company to force him to erase all lingering thoughts of work would certainly do him justice. Most evenings after work, he would make his way to a local bar and have a few glasses of alcohol. It wasn’t necessarily to the point where he was be sprawled across the bar floor, unconscious or staggering to find his way home, no. It was just enough to allow him to numb himself for a brief moment before reality sunk it’s teeth back into him again. ❝ I can’t exactly say how long my bed will be empty for, why do you ask? ❞ It wasn’t every day he would be questioned with such a personal one. Normally he would be the one in charge of all the asking and digging deep into the core of someone’s emotions and thoughts. Surprisingly, it was a breath of fresh air in it’s rather odd kind of way. 

She’s watching him with with an expectant expression, no trace of reserve or embarrassment lingering in her face. It’s easy to read him, to pinpoint the cause of the lengthy pause that hooks onto the end of her question.  Hand motions, verbal gestures, facial expressions- they all factored into a simple equation that spoke in words what had been untold, and he was no different from the rest.  Soojung wasn’t interested in brief periods of romanticism and intimacy.  In fact, romance in general didn’t appeal to her.  What did seek her out, however, was the need to attain companionship- to live not in solitude, but with the chaos and vibrancy that would ensue from amity.  ❝ A fan sent me a copy of Rataouille- I figured yours would be more comfortable than mine.  Bigger, too-- Simple as that. ❞ 

And that’s all she requests (though she may have anticipated that with his acquiescence, she’d also be able to reap the benefits of coming over-- food, for one).  Legs swinging, she leans in, challenging. 

Would it be terrible to want to hurt someone for hurting you in the past? Not entirely no, since karma can be quite the harrowing woman. But it also heavily depends on the degree to which we want to harm the person. ❝ It isn’t terrible when it comes to revenge and standing up for yourself - proving that you’re not someone who can be pushed around, but in the end what does that do for you? Will it just be a short-lived moment of satisfaction? Are you then no better than they who had inflicted upon you? ❞ 

     Lu’s eyes seemed to glimmer like bits of ember stuck together and glazed in a pool of glass, amused, pressing. He knew what he’d done. He felt no remorse for it. Yet here he was, settled in the comfiest chair he’d ever come across - still sitting at the very edge of the plush cushion, as years of instrumental posture had conditioned his body. His torso did slacken enough to bring his chest closer to his knees.

     “Of course, doctor.” He acknowledged, giving an obedient nod and clacking the small caramel candy between tongue and teeth.

     “Nature picks off the weak. He saw me as weak --but I’m still here. Strange, that.” He was quiet; soft. Everything in his nature pointed toward a sweet boy with impeccable manners, but even something so morbid rolled from his mouth as if it were as simple as a ‘how was your day?’ His thin shoulder gave rise to a shrug, lips pursing before settling into their original bow shape.