Chapter 4: Bleeding

Sehun

            Most college-age people would not appreciate their father suddenly growing distant and distracted.

            But then again, most college-age people weren’t sick of constantly being looked down upon by said father. Now that he was preoccupied with an unknown something, I was free of his disappointed, patronizing stare and condescending words – for the time being, at least. Which meant I no longer had to bury my face in my pillow and scream until my throat felt like it was ripping apart – something I was eager to live without, no matter how short of a time that would be. It also meant I was free to spend more time with my friends.

            My friends.

For someone who had no prior knowledge of modern society whatsoever, other than my old town which I now realized was a far cry from the city we’d been trying to copy for centuries, I’d managed to build up an acceptable social life through the one month that I’d been attending college in Seoul.

            Sitting across from me were Jongin and Mindae, their feelings for each other showing with startling clarity with the way they naturally leaned into each other and the little flutters of contact. Jongin was weak-hearted at times and didn’t take rejection well, but he was patient and lenient and smiled through all the jokes made at his expense. Mindae was slow to react at times, often taking a few minutes to think over what she was going to say before she said it while completely forgetting about the world around her; nonetheless, she was like the mother I’d never had, constantly acting as a moderator whenever two people in our group of friends fought. And, surprisingly enough, she didn’t quite mind that she was the only person lacking the Y chromosome in our group.

            Sitting to my right were Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Over time, I’d grown to realize that Baekhyun often assumed the role of a broken record, constantly repeating the same sentence over and over for a day or two before he grew out of the phase, only to have the cycle resume a few days later. He was warm-hearted and forgiving, though, and was willing to help with just about anything. Chanyeol tended to be a little physical (a better word would be violent) with his affection, but he always meant well, and his uncensored honesty was refreshing.

            Sitting next to Jongin and Mindae was Kyungsoo who, like me, was single and constantly reminded of it by the two couples in our friend group. He was absolutely terrifying when he was angry, and often played pranks on people to the point where his every move was scrutinized, but he was the calmest and most emotionally stable in our group, often acting as a neutral zone, a no-man’s land in arguments.

Where did I fit in? I wasn’t sure. With the way the group was organized already, I felt slightly out of place at times, especially during times of reminiscence. Slowly but surely, though, I was merging into the rhythm of their fast-paced life, the quick morning stops at the café near campus and the dull hum of air conditioning and chatter on harshly lit public buses. Sure, I missed my old town, my old friends, the smell of something supernatural in the air, but Seoul had gradually grown on me. Then again, back in town I’d belonged – I’d had a place, a purpose, a background story whispered through the shadows. Here, I was fairly certain I still stuck out like a sore thumb.

            Was my home amidst the towering skyscrapers of Korea’s capital or burnt to ashes? I didn’t know anymore.

--

Haerin

            “Haerin! No! Stop!”

            “Haerin!”

            “Haerin!”

            Wrenching my eyes open, I straightened in alarm, the memories receding once again to the darkest corner of my mind where they would sit and wait until another moment of vulnerability to return. Yunhyeong’s dark, concerned eyes hovered just inches from mine, the words etched within them screaming in my face. At the sight, guilt pushed up my throat.

            “I’m okay,” I said quickly before he could speak up and repeat phrases and questions that he’d asked countless times, phrases I wouldn’t respond to and questions I couldn’t answer. “Just a little flashback, that’s all.” I turned away from him, directing my focus at the familiar scenery gliding smoothly past the smudged bus window. We both knew that it was never just a little flashback – even the smallest flashbacks could destroy me. I was a loose cannon, already loaded and lit, waiting to lay to waste everyone who cared about me.

            Yunhyeong let out a slow breath, tilting his head back until it rested on the side of the bus. “Well,” he murmured, his voice feebly attempting lightheartedness, “I can’t exactly nag you about skipping therapy.”

            I nodded, triumph swelling in my chest. Ever since the burnt-cookie incident, I’d made a point of showing up to every single therapy session. My therapist was a bitingly candid but understanding man – a trait I found refreshing. He didn’t pressure me, either, and d