18.

I emerged from the cabin a lot sooner than I anticipated. Then again, I was only grateful for this turn of events; the incredibly weird sense of anticipation in the kitchen rising to such unbearable heights, I found myself flustered. In fact, it was my first time seeing something of that nature in the group, and lingering idly outside the front door to collect myself, I couldn't help but think back on it.

I stared at Dongyoung, uncertain of his request. And I was positive my uncertainty was more than apparent, because his features changed significantly; wide eyes growing wider and life returning to his cheeks that rose with a small, pleased smile on his lips. It was the kind I'd seen before on him the first time we met in my search for answers.

'Ah, no,' he clarified with the wave of a hand. 'It's just that Jaehyun tends to get a little too invested in his work. He's often the only one to grab cold coffee and food, so when that happens, we send them to him.'

Dongyoung paused, perhaps taking in my thoughtful silence, before rising from the table.

'But of course, if you don't want to...'

The action triggered a grand orchestra of clattering plates, glasses, and the cries of the others surrounding him who threw their arms out with the likeness of barriers around Dongyoung.

'It's OK!' Ten cried.

Johnny followed not even a second after. 'She'll go!'

'She'll totally go...,' Taeil was again the last to announce; his eyes settling on me with the very bizarre glimmer I'd seen in them moments earlier. 'Right, Saerin?'

To say I was pressured into accepting this proposal wasn't farfetched. In fact, it was more accurate to say I was given no choice, almost ushered back out the front door by Ten, a lot like how he'd encouraged me in, but only in reverse this time. Even Dongyoung shot me an apologetic look thereafter, seemingly embarrassed by the turn of events, however I was only capable of an understanding – albeit awkward – smile as I was given no choice but to comply. The expression quickly appeased the group that for reasons unknown, took to sharing accomplished looks as Ten herded me out.

Despite all this though, on the other hand, I couldn't deny wanting to see Jaehyun. After all, he was my gateway into the cabin, its residents, and – more importantly – answers to the biggest concern of mine no one else was as willing to provide.

Taking in the rain clouds that by this point thickened and bloated overhead; gathering in preparation for an afternoon shower, it seemed; I returned to the task at hand. The cool wind that no sooner turned cold with the turn of weather made it difficult to keep to my thoughts. I made for the steps, balancing the plate of crumpets in one hand and a glass mug of milk coffee in the other as I approached the side of the house.

Unlike the first time I'd seen it – under the cloak of darkness, illuminated by a generous scattering of bulbous yellow globes – the shed was a lot less colourful now that it was exposed in the light of the sun. Even though its full light disappeared with the arrival of thick clouds, it was enough for me to make out the wood and steel components that held it together, enough to house the two cars and motorbike I remembered seeing the first time.

With the said motorbike still cloaked against the wall closest to me, I took to staring further into the workshop; my eyes settling on the familiar red Supra before moving towards the one beside it.

My knowledge of vehicles was a basic one. After all, I never quite understood what it was that drove boys and grown men alike to take pride in distinguishing car makes to cylinders, to appreciating the sound of an engine.

But the black car I laid eyes on next was one even I could quickly discern. The horse in motion plastered at the front of the grill between a pair of round, silver-rimmed headlights was enough of an indication of its exquisite origins.

However, the moment the question of what an aged Mustang such as this was possibly doing in the cabin shed left me as I scrutinised the vehicle further, staring at the floor where a pair of legs emerged from under it. Rather, they'd been there all this time; the ebony jeans tucked into the high tops of a pair of charcoal All Stars taking me back to my initial task.

Further along the side of the shed I was closest to was a wooden desk – albeit littered with a number of knick-knacks I could barely place – and I approached it silently, setting down the plate and drink. Noting the fact that he probably wouldn't even notice the food when he re-emerged, I took the liberty of making myself comfortable beside the said items; the desk big enough to accommodate me as well.

I couldn't tell how long I remained like that. Arms out beside me, fingers clutching the edge of the desk, and legs crossed at the ankles, staring into space after casting long, thoughtful glances at any items of interest I found. I couldn't help but find myself curious by the end of it; my eyes having lingered on what looked like a small oven of sorts at the far end, more large mechanisms I couldn't even fathom the use for, and indistinguishable steel and wooden creations propped against the odd wall or two; wondering just what it was they all did for a living.

I vaguely recalled the one time Jaehyun mentioned something of Dongyoung at work. But this concept was still unclear considering the fact that they almost always seemed to be home. Not that I was convinced they had a lot of free time, but just how non-committal they often appeared failed to dismiss the assumption.

Perhaps I was so used to being around people who planned, went places, and had things to do that it all occurred to me as odd. My father, mother, Gayoon, Hansol, and other campus friends and acquaintances were constantly on the move. There was always studying to do. Work to get done. Research to gather. Parties and events to attend... and I soon began to wonder if I was the same at some point. Entrapped in this lifestyle of weekly work and weekend play, oblivious to anything outside this very bubble.

The thought prompted another, more frightening one the more I dwelled on the matter: what would my life have been like right now if not for the accident?

Would I have been spending the afternoon with Gayoon, sharing trivialities like class gossip and weekend plans at campus? All the while waiting for Hansol to wrap up his soccer practice, from which – as soon as he was free – we would thereafter move to buying hot drinks on our way to the bus stop, holding hands, sharing laughter? Would I truly have been this carefree?

The notion was too foreign to comprehend. These superficial delights seemed so far away; so non-existent; that I struggled to recall if I ever indulged in them to begin with. But most cutting of all was the realisation that life may never return to such normalcy.

These heavy thoughts came with an unexpected blow to the gut. They prompted the image of my mother just as swiftly, probably sitting at home, intent on informing my father of