days of the past
umbaeranâ:
(...)
â donât need it.â her answer was pettily childish and clipped, short legs swinging off the edge of the ledge as she gave a loud sniff. âand iâm not crying.â her bottom lip jutted out almost immediately, dark hair twisted into plaits messily fraying from the countless climbing and running that she had been doing, much to the chagrin of the others. âiâm almost fifteen. thatâs like halfway to being an adult already.â she muttered. âyou donât have to pat my head like iâm that little kid you brought back anyway.â her ears flamed at the thought, red slowly creeping down her neck as she twisted her face away from yoonjae quickly.
Teenagers were notoriously difficult to please, and this one was a greater challenge than the rest.
Yoonjae, as a young adult of twenty-five, did not actually have the patience of a saint as some had jokingly claimed. Guilt had simply taken its toll and whenever he was around Aeran, it was as if a sheet of heavy mist draped over him, easily quelling any flares of frustration or annoyance. The mist felt cold, too, clinging to the fabric of his clothing like the blood of the not-so-innocent family that he had torn apart that day. Each time he saw Aeran he was reminded of what he had done, and though he constantly told himself that he was not regretful of his actions, he still felt very sorry for her pain.Â
âDid the exams not go well?â A lot of young people here feared the battlefield, but not this one. Aeran seemed very eager to get ahead of her peers and her efforts did not go unnoticed by the instructors. One mentioned to Yoonjae just the other day that soon she would be ready to join the war, and they were thinking about starting her off with a more difficult monster, just to see how far she could push herself. He was against the idea completely, but in the end, he was just a soldier with minimal influence.
Touching his thumb to the girlâs messy left braid, Yoonjae attempted to smooth down this one particularly stubborn escapee strand. Much like its owner, however, the strand was determined to show that it cannot be tamed. âCome and sit here.â He pointed to a spot with better lighting. âLetâs redo your braids.â A cheap-looking plastic comb was swiftly tugged out from one of his many jacket pockets - he was one of those people who liked carrying around random objects just in case theyâd ever be of use. âDo you want to use these red elastics?â Yes, he had some. Aeran was in a foul mood last time they spoke, so he asked one of his lady friends what sort of gift offering might cheer up this kid. These red elastics werenât exactly fancy, but they were thicker and stronger than her current plain black ones.
âAnd are you sure you donât want the chocolate bar?â Yoonjae asked. âI heard it is quite good. If you wonât have it, Iâll take it back and give it to the new kid on my squad.â


















