xxxii. Even Though, Despite It All, Blind and Deaf We Are

“You’re serious?” You stared at him, utter disbelief displayed through your loose jaw and wide eyes. It was justified confusion, considering the scale of that which was so meticulously written out for you on ten sheets of paper, stapled together and handed to you at the beginning of this lunch period. At first, you had thought you had done something wrong, considering the stank eye he gave you as he called you out right as the bell rang, issuing the end of another history lesson. Which was plausible, considering how he seemingly blamed all of his misfortune on you.

He gave you his usual look, his patience drying thin with each passing second – which, made you wonder ever more why he had given such a precious thing to you. As though a worm woke up from it’s long awaited nap right above his eye, he arched a thick black eyebrow, leaning back in his rolly chair that had most definitely seen better days; leather tearing here and there, a cringe inducing screech coming from its gears until he finally settled back completely. He held his hand out then, the sound of the other voices in the room, a phone going off somewhere far away, and the sound of metal scraping against plastic almost masking his insinuating inquisition of,  “You don’t want to go?”

“I didn’t say that.” You protested, pulling the thin, precious pieces of paper to your chest, cradling them as though your life depended on it.

And, quite literally, didn’t it?

Wasn’t what was printed in black ink over the span of the ten pieces of paper you now held tightly with clenched fingers and bated breath quite possibly something that could have changed your life forever?

A bell tolled in the distance, reverberating off of each piece of shining gold molding that lined the walls, covering each and every curve. Echoing off of the pine green colored walls, filling all the empty space that existed between himself and those who stood before him. Twinkling against the stained glass, each rap seeming to build and build into a melancholic symphony until it stopped.

Until, at long last, the bell which had only struck a total of five times went silent.

And all that was left now was words to fill the quiet. Words spoken by those who sat in front of him, comfortably, collectively calm. His presence, if it had irked them, seemed to not bother them in the least. To not bother the two women and the man who sat amongst those much older than the three. More accurately, the youthful sat at the very center. And, it was easy to tell whose opinions he had to appeal to the most at this point in time.

Or, rather, whose opinions he shouldn’t give a damn about the most at this point in time.

“Kim Sunggyu?” The woman with long, flowing brown locks laid her eyes upon him. Her chin pointed up to the sky. Her nose, so perfectly sculpted by nature and nature alone, casting a shadow across her face. Her eyes scanned him once, just once, before she nodded to herself, saying her last and final words for the entirety of the following conversation, “Your reputation proceeds you.”

Reputation? The word sounded as foreign on her lips as it did to his ears. He shot a sideways glance to his left, where Jung Soryong stood, posture square, lips forming a tight line. Like he was scared. As though he were treading on thin ice by simply standing there. No. No, he wasn’t scared. The look in his eyes that Sunggyu locked with for a single second told him that wasn’t the case in the least. He was metaphorically bound to fall through the cracks in the ice below his feet should he make even one wrong move but, that didn’t make him scared.

It made him cautious.

It made him attentive.

And, unbelievably, it made him more resilient.

Confidence practically oozed off of the way his hands were held behind his back, his broad shoulders poised, at the ready. Even though, as Sunggyu first set foot into the building he was now in. Even though, as he first spotted it from a distance. Even though, as he was well aware of the stares he garnered as he walked through the city streets. Even though.

Even though this place seemed to represent the epitome of it all. The lair of that which threatened the existence of those whose characteristics he shared; of the big, bad guys – as he knew you would put it. Even though. Despite all of that, Soryong held his stance, dauntless against it all.

And, it affected him.

It caused Sunggyu to feel just as advantageous even if a new disadvantage stood behind each and every corner, hiding in the shadows of each and every crown molding, every inch of rose stained glass.

“Thank you.” He responded, even though that wasn’t even close to the reaction he should have given.

However, his show of arrogance didn’t sit well with the woman beside the brunette. Auburn hair curled behind her ears, long lashes fluttering, dark brown eyes hidden behind them lazily staring on at him, scrutinizing each and every inch visible to the eye, “You would do right to show your respect through mannerisms as well, lest you anger those who are more temperamental than most.”

The man at her side got a rise from her words, “I do hope that was not directed towards myself lest my temperamental hand might tremble at my side.”

“Stay your unsteady hand,” she put him down just as easily as she had riled him up, “I was merely suggesting ways in which he could gain the support he needs in order to succeed in that which he pursues at the current point in time.”

The man scoffed, his eyes looking on at Sunggyu unkindly, seeing his faults before his strengths. And, his next words ushered in a series of mummers on all sides, the mouths of the old wakened from their tranquil, tightly sealed slumber at long last, “He’ll need to do more than improve his manners to impress anyone with half a brain.”

“Then I suppose I should get started as quickly as possible.” Sunggyu replied, interjecting despite the lack of a question being directed towards him. Unfortunately for them, he wasn’t looking to impress with empty, polite gestures and meaningless chivalry.

He nodded his head, a motion nowhere near a bow, feeling the brown haired woman’s gaze on him all the while, before pivoting on his foot with the intent to leave. Soryong followed closely soon after, the smile that was creeping up his face as he watched Sunggyu boldly challenge those who sat upon the seats of power – and, ultimately, win without a single scratch or bruise upon his body or his ego – coming to full fruition as Sunggyu pushed the door to the room open, not looking back.

Not turning, not reacting in the least, even as the man addressed him then.

“It makes one wonder what makes Springfield so special, doesn’t it?”

It wasn’t just Springfield, just some town, to him.

“It’s my home.” Though his steps had stalled, he still remained strong, his back turned as the man continued, undeterred.

“A home inhabited by those who stole it away in the first place?”

He wanted to block him out. He wanted to pretend he wasn’t affected by that which he had buried so deeply, so that it’d never see the light of day. Of if breaking through the surface, as it had that day he almost killed Woohyun with his own hands. He didn’t want to hear it. He would have rather been deaf than hear it.

But, no matter how much he wished for it, no matter how much he wanted it, he still heard it. He still heard the man jeer, as though his next phrase was the most hilarious thing his devious mind had deceived all day.

“A home inhabited by those who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you? Who didn’t hesitate to kill the last remaining member of your immediate family? Who would have no problem erasing the Kim Clan’s records from your species history forever?”

Sunggyu pushed on, the images that flashed by his eyes like the shutter of a camera blinding him. Making him want to run away. To sprout wings and fly into the sky above. To escape the inevitable truth he had thought had long since ceased its reign over him; its crown reaching up to the heavens above, impossible to see beyond.

“Humans. What’s the use of them to you? Why not kill them just as they would you if they had the chance?”

But, there he went. There he went, stopping for the second time. Because, he remembered something. Sunggyu recalled an event which happened so long ago. The first time in a long time that he decided to put his trust in a human. A decision he, even if the ability to jump through space and time back to that moment existed, would make again and again.

And, as he imagined that cold, fall afternoon, he smiled, despite it all, “Not all of them run screaming “Bloody Murder,” you know?”

He was blind, he was deaf, but not to the truth the foul-tempered man spoke to him.

Rather, to the truth he acted on without hesitation.

The truth he’d never regret.

That he’d make again if he had the chance.

Again.

And again.

It was a strength coveted by weakness.

Niel was sporting a new shade of purplish, pinkish blonde, you couldn’t chose one over the others so you ended up settling on all three, atop his head today. It was thoroughly distracting, to say the least. Apparently, Ricky had convinced him to do something spontaneous for this upcoming summer break. There was also talk of Yura's favorite color but you'd like to hope that Niel wasn't so gullible to go along with Ricky's idea because of that; who  had a hair of much less eye catching dark purple. You were merely grateful the two sat in the back of the classroom, lest you would have been staring at them in awe for the entire morning before this.

“You’re serious?”

The question he first asked as he looked up at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Because he couldn't believe it either. Because, just like you, the pieces of paper in front of him were almost heaven sent and very, very hard to believe.

“That’s exactly what I said!” You groaned, leaning on your elbows which you promptly propped onto the top of his desk.

"Is it not good?" Ricky pondered out loud as he witnessed your reaction to Niel's words. You seemed excited, and yet, burdened. Happy, and yet, not. And due to his tone, devoid of even a hint of its usually playfulness, you noticed what he had. You realized that you were undeniably unsure about all of this.

"Teacup must like you more than we thought." Niel nodded to himself, the pages with both hands, flipping through it once more in order to be certain this wasn't all a ruse in order to get back at you for an entire year of annoying instances; which would be quite childish if it was.

Teacup: the nickname Niel had given to your class's history teacher. A nickname so graciously bestowed upon the short and stout man who had given to you the stapled stack of paper, that Niel now held in his hands, in the Teachers' office earlier. A nickname you hadn't used yet out loud, no matter how many times you would reflexively refer to him as such in your head.

"I honestly don't know at this point." You shrugged, staring down at those thin pieces of paper as though they would disappear if you took your eyes off of them for a single second. As though they'd vanish into a puff of smoke, like Houdini, like the grand finale of a Vegas Show.

And, as your eyes remained downcast onto the words you had read three times over, Ricky said again, "Is it not good?"

Is it not good?

No. Quite the opposite in fact. It was fantastic. It was unbelievably, out of this world, more unbelievable than werewolves, amazing. But, you wanted to believe it. You really did. You wanted to believe your name was written there in black ink, permanently, as it were. You wanted to believe in the future it promised you that dazzled your thoughts before it had even had the chance to dazzle your eyes. You wanted to, and yet, you didn't.

Perhaps it just hadn't hit you yet. Or, perhaps you simply didn't want to believe it as much as you thought. Perhaps you didn't want to believe it at all.

The terms and conditions involved meant leaving. Leaving your mom at home. Leaving Tiffany in the hospital. Leaving Ricky and Niel at school. Leaving all fifteen of those wolves you had endured so much with. It would mean leaving Springfield.

And, perhaps, that's what caused your conflicting emotions. Perhaps that's why you weren't so ready to jump ship. "Perhaps" was just a world that had no meaning. "Perhaps" was simply an indicator of that which was irrevocably true.

"No," You shook your head, lifting your eyes from those sheets of paper, which promised the world and more, at long last, "It's good. It's really good."

"Then," Ricky tilted his head in that way, in that way that was like an unconscious quirk, that could have made you agree to almost anything. Almost. "You're going, right?"

You're going, right? You're leaving, right?

Truthfully, you felt as though you were making a much larger deal of this than you should have been. You wouldn't be leaving forever. A month, perhaps two, at the most. Up to sixty days. Such a short time frame never did seem to equal an eternity in the past. The chances such an opportunity would arise again were slim to none.

Because, opportunities, by definition, were ephemeral. They were fleeting. They would flee if you didn't catch them before they did. And yet, still, you hesitated in the face of Ricky's probing question, those eyes of his saying everything you knew to be true. Saying everything you had been thinking to yourself since that paper first made its way to your hands. But, you hesitated, because you had things you needed to do here in Springfield.

You had obligations. You had responsibilities. You couldn't so easily accept every opportunity that came a-knocking.

Or, perhaps, it was fear that you felt now.

Fear of facing the unknown alone.

Alone.

It was a term you hadn't been aquatinted with for a long time now; the unfamiliar conditions it suggested jarring to say the least.

Alone.

The future was daunting to think about in such broad terms.

Alone.

All the divergent paths that spread out in front of you were overlaid with shrubbery; their endings, the roads travelled frequently and those traveled less so that branched off of each one, a mystery.

Enigmas with no faces.

Without even a hint as to where each could lead.

The task of choosing one should have been intimidating. Overwhelming. Frightening.

Alone.

Perhaps.

Despite your eyes looking to Ricky and Niel, your hand was on the table, a paperweight to those fleeting pages.

Perhaps.

Like a man too drunk to remember he couldn’t fly, he leapt through the air, effectively knocking himself into the thick trunk of the tree. A tree which, just seconds before, Myungsoo had been cornered against after a merciless kick to his gut. He heard his bones crack, his nose undoubtedly broken due to the contact. He clenched his teeth as he reached up, popping it back into place to stop the pain which shot through him, striking him like unforgiving waves of the ocean during a tsunami. Because the faster he fixed it, the faster it would heal. The quicker he dealt with the pain, the more time he’d have to react to the impending fist that sent him down, tumbling faster then a jenka tower.

“Secant squared x equals?” Myungsoo yelled at him through clenched teeth, eyes squinting hard as his foot went stomping downwards towards his throat.

“You know this one, Woohyun!” Taeil yelled, attempting to be supportive. Attempting and failing, his words garbled nonsense to Woohyun. Woohyun, whose mind, under the pressure of Myungsoo’s foot which he held back from crushing his windpipe with his bare hands, muscles straining, that area behind his left eye screaming out in pain, was a jumbled mess. He had barely gotten the last three questions right, this fight completely one-sided up until now.

Today followed the same schedule as those past. In the morning, those werewolves who attended school went as per usual. Those who didn’t did their share of training early in the morning. In the afternoon, when the werewolves returned from school, they’d gather at the home of Sunggyu’s pack – even though it was much closer to the center of town than Zico’s. They’d do joint training, today being a one versus one kind of day. Yesterday was four versus four, the team of P.O, Jiyeon, Sungjong, and Sungyeol only narrowing beating Taeil, B-bomb, U-kwon, and Dongwoo. A win Jiyeon still boasted was all because of her; a fact not a single soul even attempted to argue against. It was the truth, after all.

Now, today, it was Myungsoo versus Woohyun. And a new aspect had been added to make it interesting. It was originally Taeil’s idea as he was worried no one would have enough time to study for finals with everything that was going on recently. It was quite simple really. Whenever one person got the drop on the other, they would ask a math related question. If their opponent got it wrong, the match ended then and there. An effective way to study, considering how getting a question wrong and being on the brunt end of a final, crippling hit went hand in hand.

After an argument that the topic of math was too broad, the questions were limited to calculus equations: a subject studied by second and third years alike.

Just earlier, a match up of Jaehyo and Dongwoo – Sungyeol being the one who called out equations in Jaehyo’s stead – ended in Dongwoo’s victory. Not that that was very surprising to either party. What was was how close to winning Jaehyo had come. What was was how the fight between two of the three Wolfketeers seemed so evenly balanced.

Because, naturally, Woohyun was stronger than Myungsoo. Physically, he stature was built. Mentally, his decisiveness and commitment to each unpredictable action he took gave him the upper hand in comparison to the calculative Myungsoo.

Naturally, he should have been the one with the upper hand.

Naturally, he should have been able to land at the very least one offensive attack.

Unnaturally, he wasn’t.

And, it seemed this forth question would be his last.

Until he heard it, above the words that were being yelled at him: a hint of how to escape and survive until the fifth.

“Sungyeol spent one too many days in the sun!”

Your voice yelled from above, your face out of sight, the sun too bright, penetrating the tree line too well on this early-summer afternoon. And, over a slightly confused Sungyeol who wailed out in protest, saying his usual, untanned skin tone would return with time, Woohyun gasped for air, screaming out the answer.

His voice hoarse, yet booming through the treetops above, returning a favor to the sun as he, without a doubt, succeeded in making it go deaf from his range, he yelled, “Tangent squared x plus one!”

And with a grunt, he lifted Myungsoo’s leg high enough to escape his pin, coughing uncontrollably as he slowly regained his senses.

“No cheating!” Myungsoo yelled at you through flighty breath, seeing through that which Woohyun could not. Seeing you, at the window on the second floor of the house. His eyes glaring. His tone irritated. And yet, his lips curving upwards. His dimples dropping by to say hello. You smiled in return, waving back cockily as you proceeded to watch him, who was distracted by you in that moment, be sent hitting the unforgiving ground beneath him by a sweep of Woohyun’s legs.

Which, considering Myungsoo’s lack of ability when it came to integrals – Woohyun’s specialty –, marked the end of these unexpected turn of events.

Woohyun had flipped the tables, pinning Myungsoo under the weight of his forearm on his neck, as he yelled out, voice cracking, a formula even you had forgotten. There was arc tangent thrown in there somewhere, of that you were sure. Other than that, you were clueless. And Myungsoo was just as much so.

He cursed out loudly, unabatedly, dragging out the syllable like it was the song of his demise.

And, as Kyung said then, clapping, “The natural balance is restored.”

Woohyun landed a crippling blow to Myungsoo’s stomach once more, ending the long bout at last. You clapped above them, throwing a grin towards the victorious Woohyun and a quirk of an eyebrow at Myungsoo who was being helped up – to which he responded with one in kind. The two panted, in deep breathes for air as they vacated the battlefield, smiling at each other despite the pain the entire way, making space for the next pairing of Sungyeol and Hoya.

It began with Sungyeol’s quick attack as soon as Zico’s lips met the end of his whistle. He knew for a fact he couldn’t beat the whiz Hoya, who, admittedly, had been getting private math lessons from Taeil on side, if he didn’t strike first. He weaved around Hoya’s first punch, trapping him in a headlock that wouldn’t last long as he shouted out in urgency.

You turned away from the window, away from the whoops and hollers that continued to echo on from down below, deciding you should also be getting back to your main task at hand. Leaning on its sill, you breathed out, a tight, swirling ball of air you hadn’t known you had been holding back leaving you. And yet, it felt therapeutic to your aching thoughts that drilled with each question they posed to you. You had finally felt comfortable at long last, the normality of everyday life – at least, what you considered normal – failing to put you on edge. This was what you knew. This was worth staying for.

And yet, feeling such a thing now made no difference. You had made your decision already. This afternoon, in that cramped teacher’s office, you decided the fate of the latter half of your summer vacation. Maybe that’s when that hot ball of air began to build up. Maybe that’s when it suffocated you slowly from the inside, without you even noticing it until now.

“This is what I want.” You spoke to yourself as though reciting a mantra. All in order to make it sound believable. All in order to purge all uncertainty and reluctance from you mind. “Yeah.” You concluded, agreeing with yourself. Which is, technically, classified as a sign of “insanity.” But, didn’t you have to be? Everything you did. Everything you would do. You had to be just a little insane.

Just a little abnormal.

Just half, at the most.

Not even half, the amount of the room you had cleaned.

It was Sunggyu’s Grandfather’s office you were currently standing in. He may have forgotten, the others may have forgotten, but he had asked you once for a favor. A favor that was much easier to come through with than the one he had conveyed to you through the phone two weeks ago – leaving two weeks left to go before the awaited day. The task itself? To help him clean the dust out of every nook and cranny. Or, to at the very least, make it so that every time he opened the door, a storm cloud of musky smells and spider webs wouldn’t attack him. It was funny then, when he asked you to do it, the day you talked about graduation along with him, Dongwoo, and Hoya – after your riveting discussion about Minah with Myungsoo.

It was funny then.

And, despite it all, it still was.

Because the sudden urge to do something, to do everything, to do anything, for Sunggyu who wouldn’t hesitate to do the same didn’t feel like guilt. It felt warm. It sat at the pit of your stomach pleasantly, sending happy trills up your spine. It caused your ears to ring as you sang to the beat of calculus.

You smiled, whistling to yourself the formulas you had heard Myungsoo and Woohyun yelling at eachother earlier. Studying through song like means, you passed by the just recently polished, all natural, wooden office desk – that had taken up most of your afternoon – and approached the daunting bookshelf.

It was lined top to bottom with spines of books you didn’t recognize. “The Benefits and Uses of Wormwood.” “The Anthology of Lycanthropes.” “Twilight.” It looked like Sunggyu’s grandfather had a sense of humor. And, you had never wanted to before, but you wondered what he was like.

You briefly imagined him. Or, at least, attempted to. You pictured Sunggyu, except older. Gray haired. Hidden eyes. A flat line on his face, stoic and impassive yet charismatic, except for when he smiled. Large. Boisterously laughing. Looking as young as the day he enrolled in highschool each time those lips would curve upwards. Age appearing to be just another number lying along the line between zero and infinity.

You pictured him like that. But, he could have been completely different. His true image could have existed somewhere far outside the range of your imagination. But, romanticizing it all made it easier to swallow. It made it easier to come to terms with death. It made it easier to watch him walk away one early spring morning – not turning back once.

You cleared your throat, whistling louder to block out your subconscious thoughts that had snuck in somewhere along the way. You succeeded in pushing it down, in swallowing it all, for the umpteenth time. You had come to terms with it a long time ago, but that didn’t make it any easier to think about. In the past, companionship had lessened the effect the topic had on you, making you wonder if you should seek out that vast ocean of stars for comfort. But, he was busy right now. And, surprising him with your impulsive ramblings, distracting him from what he had to focus on right now, was something you didn’t want to do.

You reached forward, your voice penetrating forever strongly through the silence, deciding to empty the bookcase one shelf at the time before wiping it down. Your fingertip turned gray as you ran it across the wooden surface. You traced a pattern there absentmindedly, a figure eight as it were. Overlapping endlessly across the gray, piercing through the dust, an infinite circle of the same outline. The same up and down, crossing indefinitely. Your own mark on that which already existed.

Infinitely unchanging, the pattern you drew there.

Over and over.

Again and again.

Until, you hit the boundaries long since set in place. You hit your limit, your finger stopping as it was blocked by a small figurine. A small, crystallized wolf statue, roughly carved, rawly detailed. It shone a fleeting, pastel purple: a color whose source originated from the small item’s core. Buried deep down. Reflected off of its glass container, penetrating through to the surface.

Its abnormalities shining through normality.

And, there was something about it.

Something mystifyingly familiar about it.

You heard your name echo from your left, the light that poured in from the window momentarily blinding you as you turned at the call. They were calling for you, in unison. Laughter resounded amongst their hollers. You could picture the smiles. You could picture the faces of those who were amused and those who were much less so. Something worth seeing had occurred. Something much more pressing deserved your attention, your infinite pattern ending at that crude figurine that day.

To be wiped away the next afternoon, forgotten with one swipe of a wet towelette.

To be drowned by the whistling of that which was more immediate.  

Even though.

Despite it all.

A/N:

So, I didn't reply to everyone's comments for Tasty's special chapter (and for the latest chapter after that one). I was so tired and done with anything but sleep at that point. And now that AFF has a new comment system (where you only see comments for each individual chapter when you go to the chapter itself), I am unsure if all of your comments are even there or not. Because it's displaying ten comments for each chapter and if I only got ten comments per each chapter, I wouldn't have even half as many comments as you guys leave me (which, is quite wonderful, may I just say). So, I guess I have to be more quick with the repiles from now on. It's okay. I believe I can do it! I believe I can fly! I believe I can touch the sky! But, first I want to cook some pizza! Cause I'm really hungry now! Cue me running to the fridge because of naughty, pizza tempations. Oh so naughty. Oh so delicious. 

Scratch that entire paragraph (except for the pizza part)! The comment section changed back suddenly! Yay? 

Where was I? Oh! Right! I apologize that nothing much happens in this chapter. There's alot of forebodingness but other than that, it's quite uneventful. Here's something to look forward to though, there's going to be a surprise in the next chapter. A huge surprise. Anticipate it. 

To the Pizza!

Click on the blue links below to go to each respective forum.

Springfield/Illusory Discussion Forum Series: The Mysteries Involved, Sailing Ships, Solving the Love Polygon, & Help!