Wordsmith (n.)

-   To utter words is to create a world.

I couldn’t sleep that night as I kept on replaying the last conversation I had with Minho. I stood up and sat by the window and looked out at the night sky which was bright enough to suggest that dawn is on its way. I haven’t had a decent sleep in days and it started to affect my daily business. Without sleep I could not function quite as well as I usually do and it affected the quality of my output. I was frustrated beyond words, though I did not know to whom or to what. It would have been easy to just push all the blame to Minho, but I realized that was very unfair. He did look repentant after all. I wanted to believe in his words, I wanted to convince myself that there is more to the story, but I wasn’t quite there yet.

I once read that the unconscious is oblivious to ethics, that is, it cannot distinguish between right and wrong. I guess what that meant was that though Minho has wronged me, deep inside I still feel that he did the right thing. I forced myself into a “quiet disaster” in order to listen or at least recognize him again – a dimwit stratagem hatched by the unconscious, damn that irritating Freudian concept, which does not recognize dimensions such as time, distance, causality or Minho's mistake. I am a master of pruning, a skilled surgeon of some sort, yet I cannot snip the thought of Minho out of my life. And as if though I know he did not want to hurt me, I still blamed him for making me feel this way. Helpless, hurt, and utterly confounded.

As if on cue, the sun rose and I groaned. Another night wasted contemplating on the imbroglios of life. Another night dedicated on trying to resolve my emotions. So I picked myself up and took a bath, went down to drink copious amount of coffee and had breakfast with Kai.

Kai. Somehow, I’ve forgotten his part in all of this. Clearly, he was strained because of the situation Minho and I were in. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but I knew he wanted us to be okay even if it meant that he’d have to disappear.

What if this is time itself telling us that what’s to happen should happen? Looking at Kai I realized my selfishness. Would I be really willing to leave his existence to chance?

“Kai…”

He looked up at me curiously. “What?”

“This time travel thing, if Minho and I ended up together you could disappear right? If that is so wouldn’t that imply that you would not be able to go back in time, the here-now, to change it?”

He contemplated for a while before giving me a wide smile. “You could always adopt me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It doesn’t? But I was thinking that this could create a divergent timeline.”

“Hmmm.” I said and puffed my cheeks. “That does make a lot of sense, actually. It means that regardless if you disappear, another version of you exists in another timeline which means that my version there did not end up with Minho.”

“Exactly,” Kai said. I almost believed him but there is something in his eyes that hindered me to trust his words to the end.

“You’re a good son, you know. No, scratch that. You’re a good person and I am so lucky to have met you. I know I am not very affectionate but I wanted to say I’m glad that you came back. I care about you Kai. Remember that yeah? You’ve changed my life and you make me happy.”

Kai made a disgusted face, albeit a contrived one. I saw that he was pleased. He was content and that brought me twofold happiness. “Eew. Father what is wrong with you? Should I call Victoria-noona and send you to the hospital?”

And for the first time that week I managed to smile.

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