#rmkou

@rmkou

searching for him is like trying to spy a specific leaf among a tree canopy. the simile is sadly, more accurate than not; the stiffness in her neck from looking up for extended periods of time will attest to it, too. if she ever really got the chance to pause and think about how ridiculous she looked, yunseo might pause and be a little more conscientious about perception, but as it was--there were more pressing things at hand. like freaking finding kou. they had business to attend to.

she needed to get away from all this.

yunseo offers peace of mind to almost everyone at gumi, it feels at times, but there were only a handful of people that could give those pieces back to her. it’s one of those days where her love tank is running a little low, and all she needs is some time away from this place. out far enough to recharge a little, to snap her pieces back into place-- “oh thank goodness,” she murmurs under her breath. at first she only spots the bottom of a shoe, but after she noisily makes her way to the base of the tree, she sees a face peer out from between leaves.

@rmkou

five years old is the first time, in the swimming pool of their two-story home on the outskirts of los angeles. yeseul isn't around to shove him in head first and get away with it, so the then-boy is under the firm, patient guide of his father’s hands instead. finding the bottom of the pool is easy, sitting and staying still somehow easier, arms tucked over his knees, breath held. sunlight ripples from above. he blinks in blue through his goggles. then slowly, slowly he lifts himself from the floor, feet paddling, limbs stretch, stretch, stretching until his mouth breaks water, then air. 

all it takes is a single pointer finger to the map. it's an open invitation of a gesture, complete with the questioning glance he throws at kou. here? 

a day later, they are, in fact, here. naksan beach spreads itself out smooth across the northern coastline, sand near cream-soft sinking beneath his feet as dazzling blue waves pull in their back-forth motion, low tide in a high noon. a lone trail of footprints are left untouched by the sea foam. there’s no smell of chlorine that lingers, that’s for sure. a welcome change from the slick tiles that they’re tasked to clean, the shrill call of gulls, incheon port bustle behind them by the distance of mountains.