April 2012

Post-Lu Han

He hadn’t opened the curtains in 2 days. Or was it 3? He didn’t know anymore. The days had a habit of melding into one long, numb interlude that caused the rest of reality to fade away. Remembering that it was only April was painful enough. Post-Lu Han.

He didn’t know what time of day it was, but he presumed it was morning. Can you define the morning as the moment you first open your eyes? He lay on his back, cushioned by his quilt, and stared up at the rogue beam of pale light that escaped through the window, like a gap through the bars. He watched as dust and fluff particles danced in the seemingly non-existent breeze, sailing through the stale air like smoke.

Getting up was always the worst part. He clung to any insignificant distraction to delay the inevitable.

Once he’d hauled himself into the living room, something caught his eye. Through the sea of empty cans, nightclub wristbands and baijiu bottles he didn’t have the heart, or courage, to throw away, a bright green sticky-note shone from the lid of his beloved laptop. He walked over and plucked it off, reading: 

He sighed. Jongdae always did have a way with words. Though he silently wished he hadn’t blessed him with a spare key to his apartment.

But he did have a point – despite everything, there was still an article to write, an issue to publish and a frustrated editor to satisfy. Maybe now it was time.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, opening his computer. It whirred and hissed in irritation from lack of use. Minseok sympathised; he knew how that felt. As he pulled up a new document, his fingers lingered over the keyboard with uncertainty. Where do you even begin with something like this? How do you even start putting the entire experience into words?

The title. He knew from the moment he was seated what the title would be. That was the easiest part.

With a deep breath, he started typing; tapping his fingers against the keys to spell out the only word worthy to explain such a…well, such a phenomenon.

Supernova.