Hello my lovely people <3 It's been a while, and I've decided to take up summer school ;A; So it's been eating away at me, and I notice how fast one day really is. 

Anyway, nothing really happens in this and you may notice that the writing style kind of changed. I've been playing around with it for a while, trying to find my style, and I think I found it. I honestly love writing this fanfic because I never say things like, "I'll go write fanfic today." The story like literally writes itself, using me like a paintbrush, and just painting the canvas with its colors. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :) 
 

I stare at the piece of reflective metal, contemplating whether it’s time yet—time to show myself. A corpse—the only word able to describe the liveliness, the distant eyes and the brittle flesh hanging off the bones. I stare at the corpse and try to find some sort of familiarity, waiting for it to dawn to me that it was me. I reach out and feel the briskness send sparks to my fingertip. I felt that if I could, I could push past the mirror, and into the reflection, to touch the person in front of me.

Last night, it was the usual—the nightmares, the lack of sleep, but the dog barking, but Hyunseung, Hyunseung being the one to save me—mentally— was surprising, hair rising even. But it only lasted for so long before I was interrupted by something, something I don’t know but it lingered in the room for so long that I found myself trying to find it, trying to catch it but it slip from my reach, I let it go.

 

“Good morning Princess,” Doojoon says as I walk down the stairs that day. I thought it was more effective for someone to kick me while I roll down the stairs. I wouldn’t feel the pain.

“Morning,” I yawn while stretching.

“You look rather lively today,” he comments in a sarcastic tone.

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.” I notice the dining room, which looked more like his office, scattered with documents with words that hurt my brain, a coffee mug in his hand, and his eyes glue—not surprisingly—on the laptop, scanning the screen with inhumane speed.

I soften as I see this unfamiliar image, Doojoon actually being allowed to work for what he loves, not what he had to do. I take a step and sigh, feeling the paper crumple underneath. “You need to pick up after yourself,” I bend down to pick up some of the papers.

“So did you get any sleep?” He removes his glasses and presses his temple, looking more comatose than me.

“I should be asking you that question,” I drop the papers on his desk. He barely spares a glance at them and looks at his watch.

“You have time before meeting,” I remark, and he looks at me, skeptically. His eyes asking the question he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“You told me to remind you about that for the past week, how could I forget,” I punctuate with a laugh.

Realization lit his eyes and relaxes. “Is your room cold at night?” He asks in a stern voice, and stared at me as if I was his document paper, trying to analyze the result. I admit that it made me feel rather awkward, like a pet guinea pig.

I arch an eyebrow at him, he laughs. “I’ve been researching and found out that it’s a physiological fact that there's a higher chance of getting nightmares if your room is cold at night,” he remarks smartly, waiting for a response.

“Doojoon, you spend way too much time on the Internet,” sighing as my hand slap my forehead. Even that wasn’t enough to wake me up.

“Hey, this is for you, so don’t complain.”

“No, my room isn’t cold at night, you weirdo,” I chuckle a bit at the thought of Doojoon researching this.

“I talked to the neighbors about the dogs. He said that he was just looking after it for a friend. You won’t hear it anymore.”

“Thanks,” a light bulb lightening up like the movies. So that was why he woke up today. Doojoon waking up for something so trivial, between the feelings of disbelief and naïveté, I feel touched. Doojoon still watching over me, finding hopes in the silliest thoughts, making him vulnerable, I didn’t like that.

“So cereal or waffles?” He asks, noticing how my eyes stare beyond the counter top.

“None, I have no appetite,” I look at the clock. 30 minutes left. Yay.

Doojoon’s palms impetuously meet the table, or rather the papers, and he has this ridiculously absurd look on his face. “Chae Airiss, you are eating breakfast. Haven’t you ever heard that breakfast is the most impor—“

“Yoon Doojoon, you’re a 23 year old bachelor, stop acting like my aging mother,” I reply, and magically, the feeling of fatigue, of being dead leaves me as soon as the words roll off my tongue and I laugh at his response. 

He pushes my shoulder, “I’m your brother, don’t call me your aging mother.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” my eyes lingering on the coffee mug and the black stain noticeably clinging onto the sides.

He cheekily smiles, “Nope.”

“Yoon Doojoon, haven’t you ever heard that breakfast is—“

“Let’s go make breakfast together then, you nagging Ajumma,” he chuckles, trapping me in a headlock. 

“You burnt the waffles,” Doojoon grimaces, picking at the black bits.

“You forgot that we didn’t have milk,” I stir the cereal, the dry cereal in the bowl. We both laugh at our lack of culinary sense. I guess it's in our genes.

“I think you need to take responsibility for this,” I said, gesturing to the whole mess which is pathetically known as our kitchen.

“How? You want to hire a cleaning lady?” He asks, considering the thought.

“I know how you could get one for free.”

“How?”

“She goes by the name of Mrs. Yoon Doojoon,” I reply and watch as his serious façade slip spontaneously into a smile.

“I wish I could have a Mrs. Yoon Doojoon.”

“There’s your partner, Ms. Nam Jihyun,” I said, motioning to the paperwork. Nam Jihyun and my brother work in the same company, in the same unit but could be considered rivals in terms of work but they're close friends in terms of social life. They're currently in charge of a project together so the times they spend together increases, and I assume that love is suppose to be stringed in there somewhere. 

Bewilderment was the correct word to describe his next reaction. “Get this into your head. Nam Jihyun and I are friends, that’s it.” His tone shifting from convivial to a monotonous one, one that would be used between business partners. I frown.

I shrug, “Just know that I care.”

“I know, I know,” he says while taking the —now— empty bowl and the spotless plate, much to his complaining earlier and headed towards the sink. I stare at my brother’s back, noticing how his casual t-shirts and tattered jeans six year ago turns into dress shirts and dress pants. But he still kept bits of him from the past with his rolled up sleeves, and his loosened tie.

An idea sparked, igniting something mischievous yet worthy of his smiles. My hand dug into my schoolbag, stopped and grazed over the spine of the sketchbook. The unused sketchbook. I found myself stopping to catch my breath every time the mere sight of it hit me, like a ball hitting my chest unexpectedly, leaving me breathless. I was scared, terrified of the images, it held the key to the lock over my memories; my feelings stored away where the darkness etch my heart.

I let out a sigh. When was I ever holding my breath? I took out a fresh slice of paper, scribbling something on it. My hands felt unusual to the foreign movements, the feel of the paper against my palms and the hard wooden surface of the pencil pressing against my fingers.

With a satisfied grin, I closed his laptop, remembering to save all of his information and slip the paper in between the cover.

“I’m going to go now,” I said loud enough for him to hear. I grab my bag from the chair. I looked up and found myself stumbling back, knocking into the chair. Almost scared to death by something.

“Doojoon, you’re traveling in the same speed your eyes do when they see the computer screen, you scared me.”

He laughs, “It seems like you have a weak heart.”

Being the mature one, I ignored him. “Remember to breathe during your meeting, and look cool,” I smile as an arrogant yet insulting expression situated on his face.

“Remember to stay awake during your classes and don’t embarrass me,” he replies while gesturing towards the door and the clock hanging on the kitchen walls.

“You’re going to be late,” he laughs.

“I think walking me towards the door is too much, even for you,” he sighs.

Suddenly a knock resonated through the house. An unknowing smile graces my lips, “It’s probably them.” While walking towards the door, I hear Doojoon’s footsteps close behind.

I opened the door, and there they were. Nia and Kerin at my door, Nia smiling stupidly, and Kerin looking annoyed for the mere fact of it being only the morning.

“Hello,” Doojoon beats me to the greetings and they say their hellos. I saw the awe struck looks noticeably in Nia’s eyes, and Kerin and I rolled our eyes.

“Let’s go guys,” I walk out the door, leading the way. They quietly follow, with Kerin dragging the frozen Nia.

“Have fun at school! Dinner will be waiting for you,” the people around us turned to look at us weirdly. It was something I’ve grown used to but it didn’t stop me from grimacing every time.

“Your brother seems rather jovial today,” Kerin says, her eyes darting back and forth.

“I think he’s hyper from the lack of sleep,” I sigh.

“Dude, I haven’t seen your brother in a while! He got hotter,” Nia comments. A rather random comment yet very mundane when we’re referring to Nia.

“I wonder who Yang Yoseob is,” Kerin’s practicality bringing her back to Earth’s level.

“Yoseob and Doojoon are in two different categories,” Nia rolls her eyes, as if it was a known fact.

“Keep it that way,” I shivered at the thought of Doojoon dating any of them. It wasn’t gross, well, not really but at the same time, it wasn’t pleasant either.

Though, I passed it off as a joke, Doojoon’s intricate personality changes frustrate me, but at the same time, I knew the reason for every one of them. Back then and even now, there was a reason for everything. Out of pride, fear, or love I pretended to be oblivious to these random shifts in personality. He was doing it to protect me and I was choosing not to do anything in order to protect him.

“Where are you going after school?” Nia asked, “We could go shopping—“

“Sorry, I’m busy today,” Nia’s eyes narrow and I felt a sudden chill run down my spine.

“Where are you going?” Kerin asked faster than Nia, sparing me from her interrogation.

“I got the keys to the planetarium from Karam.”

They both nod, knowing my attraction for the astrology or anything related to stars. “The pretty looking guy that’s the president of the astrology club?” Nia asks, her eyes sparkling just like the said guy. Kerin and I looked at her, and laughed.

“Have fun,” Kerin said, and I secretly thanked her for dragging Nia away before she could protest. I smiled, feeling the cool texture of the keys in my bag.

Little twinkling lights flashing brighter, brighter and brighter. I feel my lips stretching wider, wider and wider at these tiny miracles in front of me. It was a miracle, and it was before my eyes. Be able to witness this was something special to me, it inking a vivid feeling in my body, so when I close my eyes, I can see it, I can almost reach out to the stars. Something impossible, of course.

“You look like you’re having fun,” a voice said and I immediately straightened up, my face drawing a blank expression.

“It’s something beautiful,” I said, staring at the stars again. They weren’t real stars, and I was already like this. Imagine if I could see this in real life.

Silence stays until I hear Kikwang shift, rather uncomfortably. I take the liberty to ease this rather awkward moment.

“Kikwang, you like stars too?” I ask.

Then his signature smile shows. “I truthfully don’t, but you make it look so precious. I found myself getting pulled in and now, I admit that they’re remarkable.”

I suddenly feel the stars shining, but not shining for themselves, but shining for Kikwang, blinding me, making him the only thing I can see. True to the saying, I felt like I was seeing him in a new light, a new brighter light.

I feel him step closer, standing beside me. His warmth reaching out to mine, them coalescing, flickering together, becoming art. 

When artwork is in front of your eyes, you shouldn’t—no, can’t disturb it. It was as if art had its own articulate way of speaking to those who knows how to appreciate it. I don’t know if I was one of those lucky people, but I could feel it, I could feel it speaking to me, letting me seep deeper into its history, the inner beauty.

“How did you get in here?” I suddenly remember Kikwang was right here, and I was vulnerable, open to any predators.

“You left the door open,” Kikwang laughs, “But don’t worry, I locked it already.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, Karam would have murdered me. Or refuse to give me the keys which was just the same.

“You know, I never got to see you smiling so…genuinely before.”

I gave him a look that was in between insulted and confused. “You smile—a lot, but this is definitely one of sheer sincerity.”

“That’s one of the things that I find endearing about you.” The look of utter surprise on his face was even more endearing.

“You’re honest, really honest. You can selfishly say whatever you want, and the said-person can’t help but smile at you because it’s one of your charms.”

“Thank you…?” Though he meant it as a statement, it came off as a confused question.

“It’s something praise-worthy. I find myself envious of that,” I chuckle. If I could say what I truly wanted to say a year ago…If, something that bottles up regrets, possibilities, false hope. One day, when the bottle breaks into pieces so minuscule, I’ll find myself desperately trying to find the jagged pieces and getting cut by their sharp edges.

I look at my fingertips, trying to find any traces of cuts or bruises. None. They all healed almost perfectly without a trace. Almost. 

“You know, at the museum nearby, they’re holding an astrology exhibit…” Kikwang trails off awkwardly.

This sheds some light to Karam mentioning it earlier, but somewhat— it’s ridiculous, really— it managed to slip my mind. That’s when my mind acted fast, well, aware of the forbidden boundaries Kikwang was trespassing. I can’t let him get further in than he already is, I have to show him the way out. “You know, if you wanted to—“

“Kikwang.”

He stops talking and stares at me, a mix of worry and disappointment growing.

I sigh. This isn’t going to be easy, but it simply never was. “The stars in the sky, they’re all different, yet so beautiful in their own way. Their beauty depends on the eye of the beholder…” I stop to look at him and he thankfully nods in understanding.

“Sometimes, the beholder can’t appreciate the star’s beauty no matter how much they try. It’s their lost, not the star’s.” My arm goes to pat his forearm out of sympathy. “You’re shining very brightly Kikwang, but I’m not ready.” I smile a little, and he returns it, maybe not his signature smile, but this was enough. I felt relief hit me as he seems to understand, and not laugh at my cliché method of rejecting him.

“You still can’t forget about Hyunseung?” He ask, and surprisingly, I wasn’t caught too off-guard, he was bound to know about this one way or another. 

But even with some sort of self-preparation, it’s not enough to stop the electric jolt in my veins, the quicken heartbeat or the weight of the sketch book getting heavier. It was never enough. 

“Nope,” I look up at a particular star and reach out, knowing that I can never touch it but still try because that’s natural instinct. To strive for what we know is impossible. “I still think about him, it’s a funny thing really. Sometimes the littlest things can trigger the most painful parts, but they’re the most real. I feel like they’re the truest feelings I’ve ever felt.”

I run my fingers through my hair, untangling the knots in them, trying to distract myself. “I don’t know why I’m talking about this to you,” I say, feeling the words getting caught in my throat. It always happens, my mind drawing blank, incoherent words, and logic failing, miserably.

“He’s an important person to you, it’s easy to tell.”

I tilt my head, “Was. He was an important person.”

He nods, “I’m pretty sure he still is.” I don’t know whether to smile or frown. He was true to an extent that I loathe, but it wasn’t the person that was important to me now, it was those real moments that only he could give me, the feelings that felt so alienated in my body, the memories that roam freely without my consent.

“I’m not going to ask who told you or how you know this.”

“Yoseob’s not a good secret keeper when he’s drunk, but it wasn’t deliberate.”

I smile, of course Yoseob didn’t mean it but he and Nia turn rather queer when alcohol’s within their reach. “I know.”

Kikwang shifted uncomfortably between his feet. I notice this and remember where we last left out. “Kikwang, soon you’ll find someone who will appreciate you,” I told him.

“You don’t have to go with me, but the stars on the beach are really breathtaking as well. The offer’s always open though,” his usual happy self comes seeping back into his voice and I relax a bit.

So, it looks like Yoseob didn’t confess everything. I’m thankful but at the same time, I wish that he knew. "Thanks Kikwang. I use to live at the beach so I know, the stars are much prettier.” A lot prettier when it’s real. 

“I can’t believe you rejected Kikwang,” Kerin’s voice echo from the other line. I rolled my eyes. My hands were starting to go limb from taking in the phone’s weight for so long.

“Fortune’s being thrown in your face, but you’re turning away from it,” Nia remark.

“I don’t know if I want this though.”

“What do you want then?” Kerin ask, nuances of frustration and sheer confusion in her voice.

“I don’t know, I just—”

“Do you still like Hyunseung?” Nia’s voice cut through and it grew quiet, eerily quiet as they waited for my long overdue response.

I was unconsciously answering the question every time something scratches my frail heart when I hear his name, how I still keep the SUE sketchbook, and how I thought of Hyunseung when I was with Kikwang, how it was so different and how I noticed the difference immediately. “Yes.”

Silence lingered longer, much longer than it was supposed to. More like a reflection time for everyone to drown in the memories, the waves were overwhelming and definitely uncalled for but I made no effort to swim to shore, I wanted to stay regardless of my life ticking away.

Kerin sighed, “Is it worth it?” They desperately throw life jackets, water tubes to help me, but I can’t reach it. The waves kept pushing it away.

“I don’t know…”

“We’re worried,” Nia said, a change from her usual cheerful self. Call it natural instinct, but I felt bad, unworthy of them worrying for me because to swim to shore, I had to make an effort, I had to have the desire to let go, but when memories are the only things I have left, I don’t want to get saved. Knowing this, I knew that I had to suffer but things like love were never simple, they could never be outlined in a manual. It’s never that simple.

“I know, but if I could, I would forget. It’s not that easy though,” I pathetically laugh, hating how weak I sounded.

“We know,” Nia responded.

“We’re here, to listen, to talk, whatever,” Kerin added, the sincerity being the prime loophole in her usual laid-back voice.

I smile, but this was different. It was derive from happiness, not manners or feelings of obligation.

I heard the jangling of keys and knew that Doojoon was home. I smiled as I poke my head out over the sofa and saw an exhausted Doojoon drag himself through, loosening his tie in the process which sways the heart of many females; it was almost effective as his seducing-girls-when-going-to-the-gym shirt.

“Welcome home,” I said, and he looks up and offers a weak smile.

“I’m home,” he replies. A little habit we developed when we were little that grew up with us. “Did you do anything productive?”

“I just talked on the phone with Nia and Kerin, and that’s the most productive thing all day,” I teased. It sustenance the joking look in his eyes as he shakes his head.

“I come home from a tired meeting, and you talk on the phone,” he challenges me; “This is clearly unacceptable, acceptable Airiss.” He vigorously shakes his head and for a second, I thought it was going to fall off and roll down the driveway.

“Go shower, you’re deprived from sleep and the meeting today, it’s not good,” my index finger pushes his head a little, trying to bring him down to reality.

“Alright nagging Ahjuma,” he walks past me but stops midway. “By the way, I do not appreciate you closing my laptop this morning,” he doesn’t turn around.

“It’s for your own good, sometimes you need a reminder to eat.” Suddenly remembering the scribbling, ‘Remember to eat’ this morning and then slipping it between his laptop screen and keyboard.

“Though, it was nice to see your art again, it’s been a whole year since your pencil touched the paper.”

“Yeah, a whole year already…”

“Will I be seeing more of it” at this point, it was getting awkward talking to him, his back turned towards me, and me not really paying attention to him. In truth, we weren’t paying attention to this; we were simply letting our feelings talk while our conscience took a break, a much needed break.

I stopped to think for a while, relishing in the familiar , the pressure, the angles, everything, and I knew that I wanted to try, to try drawing again. “Yeah, you probably will.”

I stared at the frame, the smooth wood making it easy for my fingers to graze over it; making the picture it held all the more enjoyable. I steadied my heartbeat and it danced in sync to the rhythm of the water spilling from the showerhead as Doojoon showered.

I focus more on me in the photo. I look different, such naive eyes shouldn’t have existed, such happiness shouldn’t have been easily captured, but it did. Then I loomed over to Doojoon, his arrogance for having such an enviable family, and his pride going through the roof. It made me happy knowing that we were the source of that.

Then the two figures known as mother and father were there, finishing the picture, giving it warmth, warmth that most families should have.

“What’s your brother’s name?” Hyunseung asked, handing me back the clothing that he borrowed.

“Yoon Doojoon, pretty name, isn’t it?” I ask, smiling at just the mentions of his name. My brother, the closest person to me, my pillar of strength, my alter ego.

“It is—” He stops talking and it looks like he’s deep in thoughts, or his mind was drawing a blank. I couldn’t tell.

“Your brother has a normal Korean name, Doojoon. Then you have Airiss, a name that’s hard for the tongue to roll. How?” He asks, and I try to string his words together, to form a more coherent sentence.

“My mom would have named me something more…normal like Maeki or Sokyul but my dad was planning to expand his business to America, thus the name,” I prepared myself for the reaction that was always expected, but it could have been avoided, if not for my subtle approach, but a blatant one was never my type.

“Then why did Doojoon get a normal name? And you, Airiss?” I guess he’ll never stop pronouncing my name like Airissu.

“Doojoon’s dad had no thoughts about expansion and was more…normal. My dad isn’t,” I shrug and watch as he pieces it together.

“So, he’s your half brother?”

“He’s my brother.”

Half brother, brother, it’s the same. We still have half of the same genes running through us, we’re still connected, and we’re still brothers and sisters. We found no need to differentiate ourselves like that, by adding “half” in front of such loving titles; it added feelings of hostility, something we definitely don’t have. 

How long has it been? I wonder how long it’s been since such thoughts ran through me. There were no numbers, but it has definitely been a while.

The phone rang; the clock told me it wasn’t considerably late, so it could be anyone. The thought of anyone calling was scary, but I brush away such skeptical thoughts. I went downstairs to where I forgot the phone. 

After seeing the black device lying hazily on the couch, I picked it up, “Hello?” I waited for the usual response that one would expect from anyone, the usual, “Hello.”

There was no response. “Hello?” I ask again, and press my ear closer, and listened closely— then, I heard it. The faint breathing.

My anger started to bubble at the thoughts of immature prank calls, “If this is a joke, then you’re funny. I’m hanging up.”

Before my finger could barely graze over the button ending the call, I heard a voice, a desperate cry of ‘Wait.’

I stop thinking, and my hand moves on its own as it brings the phone back to my ear. “Please…wait…” The other person begged, and I feel sharp jabs at my heart as it desperately tries to stay alive, my lungs heaving for air, and my mind in utter chaos at whatto do, how to react.

Quiet, very quiet sobs were heard, and they touched a deeper part of me, subtly teasing the lock on my memories. The lock vied with the unfamiliar feeling, and I found myself writhing to keep myself together. Suddenly, the bottled up emotions shattered. The memories all disperse, the sharp edges looked so menacing. I made no effort to touch them, but there were already cutting me. It hurts.

Silence lingered, longer than both of us expected or wanted. It gently wrap around us, embracing our scars and distorted desires. I open my mouth, wishing that I could spat out the words, and for once, wished that I was Kikwang, Kikwang who could say whatever he wanted and got away with his pretty smile, but my lips were dry, my throat was stuck, the incoherent words choking me. The tears overflow, leaving wet trails. The dam finally broke.

The chorus of sobs continued, showing no signs of stopping. This cycle of vacillation, regrets, and volition vying with one another, and all the while, inflicting pungent waves of pain. Silence is something that’s interim and it proves to be when Doojoon comes rushing in, rather livid at something.

“Airi, I’ve been calling you for—“ His voice cuts through and I hear the other person on the line gasp at his ripe voice. Suddenly, I could feel the world come dawning on me, too abruptly. Reality perilously rushing at me, leaving me breathless. The colors come back and the clouds disappearing from my vision.

The phone slips out from under my hand and I watch as it crashes to the carpet almost in slow motion like in the movies. The batteries fly out, the screen goes blank.

“That was—“ He plops the batteries back in and checks the previous callers. He stops, the nonchalantly expression not giving anything away, but the disquiet flame iridescent in his eyes struck me.

“I—We—didn’t—couldn’t say anything,” my tongue struggles for the right words to say.

He nods, but the urge to reach out to comfort me speaks to me, but he denies it, waiting for my feelings to speak. “Doojoon, I feel like a mess, a big psychological mess. My feelings are all over the place, and I—I, I can’t control it; it’s like orange juice spilling out. I can’t stop it until there’s no more juice left…”

“Airi, you’re not a mess. If feelings could be solved like math problems, then we’d be robots.”

“I shouldn’t be like this. One phone call and I lose myself. I feel disappointed in myself, I can’t get over it,” my eyes landing everywhere but Doojoon’s face. His stricken face sustenance the tears burning my eyes. “It’s been so long and I can’t—“

“It’s been this long but you’ve been strong, you’re strong Airi. Some people takes years, decades even to—“

“I don’t want to be a mess any longer,” I cry out. Shock hits him hard. His hands go to comfort me, trying delicately to piece this feeble mess together. “I feel so tired, of aimlessly delving…”

“Then, you don’t have to delve . You can stay at home. I can support both of us,” the solemnity of his words sink in, engraving reality’s coercion in my veins. I waited as it traveled through my veins, feeling the veracity of this moment.

“Drop out? I can’t…” Flashbacks of the possible future played in my head. I could see myself being messier, forgotten trash bestow upon my brother, it wasn't fair.

“No. I can’t drop out. I can’t rely on you,” I tell him. In this abyss where I couldn’t see myself, I knew that finding something was hard. It was so hard to search for something, especially when you don’t know what it is that you’re looking for. But I can’t get other people to look for me, even worst— forget what I was looking for and become a real corpse.

Doojoon let out a sigh of relief and smiles, “At least you know this.” I stare at him, my eyes asking the questions my lips couldn’t.

“Airi, don’t forget why you’re here, why you’re still here today. Something’s bolstering you this whole time. Don’t forget why you held on for so long,” he says, looking into my eyes and for a second, I could see the thing that’s been strengthening him, keeping him alive until today. At the same time, I knew it wasn’t something that I needed; it was almost nothing to me.

I could barely fathom his words, but it made sense to me somehow. The words didn’t get through but the feelings of it, it whispered in my ears, and gave me lenses to a new world. Something’s been keeping me going, pushing me through the days, mustering a dim light over this abyss.

“I don’t know what it is, this strength…”

“At least you know that something like that does exist. You just need to find it.” He smiles lightheartedly. I felt like I just took a big step in this abyss and I was closer, not close enough but closer to finding the escape. But it was easier said than done. 

So, you learned some new things in this chapter ^-^ I swear, Manda, do you even read this anymore D: <? After making me write this, you disappear on me?! How could you ;A; ? And other readers...where are chuuuuu. 

Also, I'm loving Brother!Doojoon. Hes like perfect ;A; 

P.S. What do you all think of the bg + poster ^^ I love it <3 

Zammysammy: Hello ^^ Thanks for your comment :3 I hope you like the updates so far :D