Good Morning.
Sincerely, Your Cupid
L.Joe's POV
The skeleton of the somewhat familiar building slowly sketched into view as Chanhee and I neared the premises of the school zone. It smelled a lot like hell, if anyone wanted my input on this. And I was more than skeptical about regaining my memories, but because the human insisted that I try, I didn't refuse it. After all, there might be some clues as to who I was lying around, right?
First, I planted my eyes on the faces of the strangers that weren't so strange according to Chanhee, trying to identify them despite having no memory of their features whatsoever. And the longer I stared, the heavier my headache became, which I just managed to get now.
Second, I studied the school halls, painting the same palette of colors into my head, but it was of no use. Everything was foreign to me. The people, the place, the smell. It felt less like a school, and more like a prison. But that was what made it nostalgic. The feeling of being trapped, but not being noticed. The feeling of complete ostrasization.
I darted my eyes throughout my surroundings, finding no gaze returned to me, and this, unusually, was the feeling that made me feel closer to who I was than ever before. The similar aspect to me and him was that, despite death casting us apart, we were both inevitably alone. I know Chanhee's a friend now, sort of, but we both know that this will one day come to an end. But it's just the closing paragraph to a chapter in his life, while it'll be the ending to the story in mine.
"You okay?" Chanhee asked, but didn't wait for an answer, "You've gotten pale all of a sudden."
My eyes traveled to meet his, blinking before drawing attention to all of the questionable set of eyes directed at him. I couldn't resist the urge to erupt into laughter.
"Whart's so funny?"
Still trembling with amusement, my hand managed to raise, pointing a finger to the audience of suspicious gazes around us. It didn't take long before the human's face flushed with embarrassment, but his expression hinted fury.
"I never told you to talk. It's not my fault they can't see me." I managed to reply, restraining another temptation to laugh at him again.
" you..."
Despite Chanhee's brief fame of humiliation, he still had the determination to help me recapture my memories, and therefore, guided me to his classroom.
As if I've been there before, my frame proceeded to a desk, perched at the other side from where Chanhee's was located at, beside a towering window. The wooden surface felt familiar underneath my fingertips as I swept them across the top. I even gave myself permission to seat my body into the chair, letting the sensation of familiarity consume my lungs. But I still have yet to remember anything.
"Good morning." I heard Chanhee call out to each of his classmates from where I was seated, which unexpectedly, carried a clear view of the other.
Why won't he say it to me? He always says it to me. Good morning, that's the reason I'm still here. The reason I continue to return to this hell. So I can hear those words again.
"Good morning, Chanhee-yah." I called out to him, and when he averted his eyes to look at me, it appeared as if he was struck by disbelief. Probably wondering if I was trying to corner him into another situation.
But he returned the greeting, pretending to speak to the stranger sitting before me, but I knew he was directing those words to me.
"Good morning." With a smile evident on his lips, he turned to face the front again.
And I was struck by the simple phrase, captivated by the way it sang in my ears, the way it dressed me in a smile, the way it fed my empty heart.
It almost felt as if there was a pulse, somewhere underneath my ribcage,
where my dead heart laid.
Comments