Mana; Possesion of Magical and/or Govermentic power.

                                                                                                                                                      Mostly used to explain, Magic.

F O U R T E E N

It rains hard but Jinki’s tiny house shakes harder.

House, seems a big word for Jinki’s situation, but even the word apartment is too great of a word for Jinki to explain his home’s structure. But he would never dare to call it a ‘slum’, no; he saw it as much, much more.

Jinki resides from looking at the small roof of his bathroom, to down at his left hand. As the water spits at him through the shower he twists his wrist repeatedly, slowly, examining the tattoo there. Four years, eleven months and two days. He hadn’t seen Jonghyun even since.  Each day that passes Jinki waits for the tattoo to fade, to disappear, become transparent, leak into his skin, something — anything. So maybe then he could forget, forget bounding, forget about Mana, Main City, and forget about Jonghyun.

Because every spare minute Jinki has now, his thoughts are all devoted to Jonghyun.

Jinki still can’t forget the last look on Jonghyun’s face. Eyebrows hung low over his eyes, lips drawn to a thin line. Eyes forlornly cast down, away from Jinki, away from the crowd, away from reality.

Obvious regret, yes, Jinki wasn’t blind to that.

But Jinki wasn’t at all fazed that Jonghyun would act that way, even so, Jinki reluctantly accepts that he wants to see Jonghyun again.

He sighs and he examines it much closer. He wonders what Jonghyun is doing now. Is he eating properly? Does he have some sort of job now? Has his hair colour changed? Does he still remember him?

Jinki gawks at his stupidity. Of course Jonghyun eats properly; (By the suit he wore, Jinki was certain he was a fair deal richer than Jinki.) He probably doesn’t have a job, probably changed his hair colour and obviously, Jonghyun remembers. How could he ever forget?

Jinki was basically the tattoo engraved on Jonghyun’s wrist.

--

Jonghyun sneaks through the front door carefully.

Little steps sound throughout the house and he’s so close to his room, all he has to do is just leap a little more and, come on Jonghyun you can do thi—

The small of the lamp light suddenly floods through the room and Jonghyun is scared still, eyes wide, knees shaking like a deer caught dead in head lights.  In a split second he calms down and makes sure his eyes show no fear and holds his hands together in order for them to stop twitching.

“Jonghyunnnnnn,” His uncle slurs as he stays at his spot.

“What?” He screeches less confidently than he planned.

His uncle sets his bottle of alcohol down at the table and hastily makes his way to Jonghyun, tripping over the carpet twice on the way. His rough fingers grab a hold of the boys’ jaw, outlining the sinks and raises before he crashes him nephews head fully into the wall. Jonghyun vaguely hears a sickening crack.

“Jong—“The man tries hard to focus on the simple syllables. “Jonghyun, W-Where were you, Jonghyun?”

Jonghyun groans loudly as his body limps to the floor, back pressed firmly against the wall. His uncle’s smug face lowers to his, now on the ground. As he nears him, Jonghyun gets a whiff of the strong aroma of mixed alcohol and something that smells profoundly new.

He wonders bitterly if his uncle suddenly prefers drugs.

Jonghyun rubs the back of his neck slowly before his uncle shoves him against the wall again, this time crushing his hand under the abrupt pressure of a much, much stronger hand. Jonghyun’s eyes pricks uncomfortably as the pain shoots up his wrist to his fingers. He pulls back as hard as he can, just in the instant he realises it’s his left hand.

“St—op.”

The request comes high pitched, half-choked and scared and Jonghyun refuses to believe that’s his own voice. He quickly scrambles to his feet as the man with the alcohol clouded eyes soon follow suit.

Jonghyun feels his muscles strain and his footsteps pound hard against the rest of his body.

He watches it all in slow motion.

Just a little more and his quivering fingers slip on the gold door knob. Just a little more, and his right hand is fully clutched to it. A few seconds and he is able to hear the wood creak.  A flash and muscles are thrown, his body is hoisted and he had just, just avoided a punch that would have fractured his spine.

Swiftly his fingers pinch the lock. Slams vibrate through the wood but all Jonghyun feels is his left hand pulsating, his ears blocking and the realisation that his forehead is bleeding.  “Open the door chi—ld!”  The hiccupping begins as the knocks against the door end.

Jonghyun doesn’t apprehend he is crying until he catches the skin under his eyes glisten by the flood of light through the glass square he’d rather call a window.

The sight of tears disgusts Jonghyun to the core.

Crying is something he is never, ever willing to do. Weak is something he will never be interpreted as, and strong is something always was and will be.

But sometimes, just sometimes, watching dusk greet the night and twilight farewelling darkness, Watching another day pass and a new one begin, playing useless tunes that only he is able to hear, maybe then Jonghyun allows a tear or two to trickle a little.

--

There is only Jonghyun to blame.

Someone as fortunate, someone so blessed, there is nobody but him, who ruined his own chances. It is only now he sees what he hadn’t cherished before. It is only now he tastes the full of Main City food, which no longer sits at the table in front of him. It is only now he realises that he has nothing anymore, nothing but the future.

Sunlight taps at the kitchen window, sending vibrant clues that the day would bloom into a rare hot winter night. Jonghyun thinks back to the time snow existed as he inserts stale bread into his mouth unconsciously.

He remembers his fifth winter. The smiles on the Honours son’s and his own as they all ran forward, eager to greet the endless blankets  of white that would surround the perimeter. He remembers when he would dig a miniature hole for one of his hand, and how he’d concentrate hard on trying to absorb the coldness. He remembers the horror in his friends’ eyes as his hands started to make snow by themselves. He remembered how confused he was as they all ran away one by one, when all he thought was that it was great he could make snow.

It hits Jonghyun that living on the outskirts is not bad either. The feeling of being despised is not felt individually here, it is more felt as a whole. Here, nobody gives a ing what your name is; you are just as everyone else is,

You are lower,

You are less,

You are nothing.  At least, the dead in peoples’ eyes all relate, and the ones that manage smiles are fascinating. Here, you cannot be singled.

Jonghyun snorts at the Honours’ set of rules for the unfortunates.

It is truly sickening, selfish and unfair but it still manages to make sense in the slightest way.

Jonghyun understands that now outside the walls of Main City, the outskirts are managing by the thinnest thread. Without outskirts, Main City is also nothing. Maybe the hierarchy just likes to be praised, maybe Honours’ and their beautiful, Mana bread children are just protecting their kind. Shielding the next generation from the previous race of Humans. Or better known as, Unfortunates.

Banishing the different from Main City might have been the only way they are able to keep producing generations with Mana flowing through their veins.

But even then, Jonghyun thinks, if your Mana is not one of the sacred twelve, if your Mana is something outside, something beyond,  you're still as low as an unfortunate, but what’s worse is that there, you are singled and loathed, all by yourself.

Jonghyun has to admit,it is clever.

This bounding. To ensure that no one ends up alone. That every single unfortunate must unite with another as soon as they are ten, Just to obey the rule that reads; there must be two, two for each other and no one else.

But then it is just as cruel.

Because as Citizens are clouded with lies that they are helping the others, they are still oblivious to the unfairness.  That this world should be where everything is even, forgiven, accepted.

This should be the time where everyone is equal. They fail to see that they are all being secretly dictated.

So, once a cruel world is  always a cruel world.

“Did you sleep well Jonghyun?”

The concerned voice of his Uncle floats in, pricking on Jonghyun’s nerves.

He stops chewing his last piece of bread and stands to clear away his mess.

Of course, He doesn’t ing remember.

He catches a glimpse of what he thinks is a smile on his uncles face turning into a frown. “Oh,” The man whispers, “I—I’m so s—“

“Sorry.” Jonghyun finishes as he puts the left over bread on the table. “For four years, you’re sorry.”

Jonghyun turns around, walks straight across, and reaches for the front door.

“I’m going out.”

[Author's Note]

Omg so i don't even know.  Chapter two is one ahhh, soon chapter three will be too,

I think as a total there will be only like ten Chapters ;_;