A Twisted Love

Kim Jongdae POV-First Person!

word count: 1,039

"What on earth is love?"

I was caught off guard by such an innocent question from my 10 year old brother. My first reaction was to laugh it off and tell him he's too young to understand lovey-dovey crap I've seen in movies. But his expression was too serious for mere child's curiosity. I could only sigh and reminisce experience to conform something wise to sate his sudden interest. After a long while of thinking, I couldn't pin point my exact definition of love, so I settled with the reply of, "I myself don't know either..."

He cocked his cute little head to the side with a small pout. "Huh?"

I felt warmth fill my calming heart with his innocence. I felt this sense of responsibility to keep him pure and away from the dark reality, but it is impossible if he wants to mature into a proper adult. My mind wanders too far off to the future. I shouldn't be thinking like this, especially when he still has many years ahead of him before he's truly an adult. But I felt worry wash over me. How long do I have before he leaves me, or I leave him?

I push the thoughts away, saving it for some other lonely night when he has fallen asleep while I lay awake in bed. My hand find its way to the crown of his small head. I brush some silky strands to the side to see his beautiful heterochromia pair of eyes. They glisten under the cold moonlight that dare invade through the single window of our room. I poke my tongue in my cheek, a habit of mine when I do deep thinking. "When I look at Remi," his crescent eyes crinkle at the mention of his favorite noona, "my heart beats faster, and I can't stop trembling." A smile grew on his tiny lips, and I subconsciously mirror his action. Another sigh escape my lips and I continued. "I decided that, in my case, that impulse is 'love'," I turned my attention to fixing the blank that cover his tiny body. "It's more interesting that way," I inaudibly mumbled.

He turned comfortably on his side to face me. "So your heart races, and you shake...," he gives a lopsided smile while scrunching his nose, "it sounds like you're catching a cold-"

"Ah, yes, it's like catching a cold."

The heater with a low rumble and he loosen his grip on the blanket. "Hyung," he began with a whisper, "what do you like about Noona?"

A light shade of pink creep onto my cheeks. "Well," I turned onto my side as well, "I like that she's tough," I answered playfully and his giggle was music to my ears. "Her beauty, her clumsiness, her fragility," her big bosom, I cleared my throat, "the way she's fun to tease." There was many more wonders I wanted to share, but I cut the list short, skipping to my main point. "And also...hm...Let’s see..." He waited ever so patiently, his almond eyes piercing mine and his lips sealed into a fine line. I pondered why he is so eager to know my reply. I opened my mouth to give my answer, but his eyes sparkled with anticipation. And at that moment, I wanted him to sample the heart-wrenching reality of the real world.

"And the way she's almost certain she'll never love me."

His expression sunken and confusion was prominent in his features. "What?" he squeaked, "What do you mean? Aren't you suppose to want the person you love to feel the same way about you?"

"Ha!" I felt a slight ache in my heart. I mask it with a joking smile, "I want nothing of the sort~" I tapped the tip of his nose, and in return, he innocently blinked twice, still clueless as before. I felt a wave of nostalgia envelope my mind as his expression is a cruel reminder of my past self. I peel my eyes away from the child and change position again to lay on my back. The ache in my heart only increase as I tried to avoid thinking further about the broken relationship. I sighed for the third time. "I may love Remi, but she doesn't have to love me back."

From the corner of my eye, I notice the frown on his angelic face. He reached under the blanket and tugged on my sleeve for my attention. I was strolling through memory lane and did not react to his gesture. "Th-then why love her?" he asked anyways.

"Because I have absolutely no interest in the sort of person who would fall for me," I answered monotonely when a haunting event replayed like a broken record, the one that disrupts my inconsistent sleep. The boy let out a low whine and I can feel the disappointment radiate from under the covers. Anger boiled within me and I felt the need to end the conversation. "Sleep," I curtly ordered, "you have school tomorrow."

I did not catch a glimpse of his last expression before he turned his back toward me, I couldn't bear to see it. I was so sure that he would've had a sad face, one that would resemble a kicked puppy, feeling sympathy for his older brother. And that is what angers me.

Children. Who are they to judge the hardships of an adult when they cannot understand what it is? Who are they to mindlessly step on a landmine of sensitivity and expect everything to be fine to openly talk about? Who are they to think their innocence will save them from just about anything that this cruel, cruel world has to offer while everyone else suffer the consequences in a blink of an eye? Why must everything be so simple and clear in a child's eye but extremely complicated in adult's?

I grit my teeth at the suffocating thoughts flooding my mind. Please, leave me at peace, I quietly begged and pulled the blanket closer to my chin.

"Could I have avoided losing you that way--?"

It was such an old memory that evoked burning tears and constricting breathing.
But
it was the memory that put me to sleep.

inspired by the quote: "the way she's almost certain she'll never love me back." - Vanitas