8

“You know, it’s nearing fall.”

The steady beeps from the monitor lets him know that it’s still okay to be hopeful, that it’s alright for him to stay. For him to cling. For him to speak.

“You always said you’d be excited for fall and spring,” he chuckled, dry and completely in his throat. “I’d say for the new winds, you’d say for the rain.”

“You know, it works. Saying you have club activities and then running off to do your own thing,” he in a breath. “It really works. Look, I’m visiting you because I said I have a club…”

Looking down, he grasped his hand, “Can I do this? Even as I…”

A nurse politely knocks the door, opening just a smidge and tells him he has twenty minutes until visiting hours are over. Must be a new nurse, he’s been here almost like the chair itself is him for the past year and a half.

“Alright,” he softly nods, thanking her.

The nurse leaves like an unimportant wind. Flowing through the place without much sign and Sungjong looks out the window now.

“I think, autumn isn’t for the winds anymore,” he whispers. Just like the flowing wind, unimportant. “It’s for the nostalgia.”

It whips, like the desert sandstorm; the wind.

“Mir!”

The Red Streaks fought dirty. Even as the Black Jackets only had six members, six stupid boys, they ganged up with more than ten and always jumped the group. This time, that last time, they were completely surrounded. They warehouse over run by red. Dripping, scarring, red.

“Who’s the guy named Woohyun?!”

Red red, oh gosh, it’s so damn red.

Hideous, coloring their walls. Theirs. The walls that were lined with random stuff, spray-painted over like nothing. Streaks and streaks of red. It made him angry, it made him hurl; above all, it made him want to kill.

“Yah, kid. You in the Black Jackets?”

Black? No they just simultaneously wore black that day. Their leader, oh, yes him, he laughed so loudly that they all cracked up. Even the stone set Hoya  broke into a smile. That day, Dongwoo entered his brother’s life. They met because of him, their leader. He met him because of him, the leader. Sungjong met him.

“Where’s this Woohyun brat?”

The wind was warm that day. Their leader barely smiled at first. But him, yes him, he kept poking and bugging and prodding until Leader burst with anger and yelled. He was a shrewd sunbae, flipping magazines like the newspaper, picking his nose as a hello instead of a wave, drinking and throwing his soda can where ever.

Ah, that was when he changed him. He met Woohyun.

And I met him. Mir.

“Answer when you’re being talked to!”

A foot, it was near. Sungjong wasn’t going to keep this up. The umbrella.

Yes the umbrella.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“The Umbrella.”

The top, it’s sharp. Why? It’s an old umbrella. It was his father’s and he always kept it about. ‘Reminds me of him’ he said, with that bright smile and twirled it around in the air. Catching it and then continuing to spin the handle in his hand.

He stabbed it through his leg.

The other was shouting at him.

Red.

It was warm, sickeningly scalding to his skin and he grinned for more. Pulling the top out, more sprayed onto his jacket and it was then his white teeth showed through. Grinning.

“You never know when it’s going to rain.”

“Stupid, check the forecast.”

“The forecast can’t predict everything”

Splattering, dripping, flowing. Was this what they wanted? Red.

There were more though, way more. And Sungjong kept pillaging through, stabbing and hitting and watching as red flowed from their mouths, their cuts, their wounds. It was he, the one with the umbrella.

“You never know…”

Oh it was so true.

At first, it was just three people. Dongwoo, Mir, and Leader. Then Hoya and him, because he met Mir in school. Sungyeol stayed home, he always did. He was on the computer 24/7, chatting. Gaming. He never left his room. Homesick.

Then Woohyun.

And their Leader changed from ice to water, then clarity.

He heard a cry, then more and a crack. An outraged roar and snaps of wood. Bodies flying past his face yet he only stood beside one. One of his own, he. He hit so many down. Stabbing and hitting, so many. Red and red and red, flowed down his umbrella and to his hands. Sticky, warm, oh he done it.

Red.

“when it’s going to rain…”

He was soaked.

By the time he had snapped out, his eyes were damp and shedding tear after tear. He was sitting in the van, holding him still. Dongwoo was racing to the hospital, Hoya holding Woohyun.

“Where’s Leader?”

No one answered him and he grew worried. He looked; no one wore their jacket except for him. Even him, even Mir beside him had nothing but the plain smiley face shirt they bought together.

“Where’s your jack—“

“He’s gone,” Hoya snapped to him, his eyes cold and worry evident to the boys who were hurt. He looked, Mir was so cold. Woohyun had passed out, his left arm looking terribly, utterly retched as the bone stuck out and blood just kept flowing. It was raining.

Flowing.

“Leader?”

“He’s gone!” Hoya yelled at him, and he shrunk. Dongwoo parked, hurrying to open the door and