Her

 

She walks up the steps, silently passing in front of families. Kids are running around while yelling at everything. Parents try to restrain them while being captivated by their surroundings. The Smithsonian is full and she doesn't feel that much at ease. She's not used to being enclosed by that many people. Dressed in black with a beanie covering the top of her head, she looks down as she passes the first room filled with introductions. Introductions of strangers, three people she used to know and another she's too much acquainted with. She doesn't stop to look at the different descriptions, finding it mentally challenging for the familiar ones, useless for the strangers. She flies into the second room in a few seconds and tries to tune out of the different voices of everyone standing around. It's just a visit, she tells herself. Just a visit to see if everything her mind conjured is right. Just a visit to see the people she longs for.

 

The second room has a few photographs, paintings and texts. Stuff from the person at the time. She stops in front of a familiar photo. A woman older than her but with features the same as hers. Hair, eyes and skin the exact same color. One difference, the woman is smiling brightly. The background is cut grass with a few trees around. Her hair is blowing from the wind. She frowns, narrows her eyes at the description given. Glances back at the photo to the detail three times with a time range of thirty seconds, maybe more.

 

Velica Lebleu-Lee, 42 years old

Photograph made on July 22th 2019

 

 

She doesn't know how much passes. She looks down at her shoes after a moment, nods to herself as a sign of courage and moves to the next room, ignoring the other stuff showed. There were paintings, other photographs but she passed enough time in this room. The next one is dark and the end of a video is shown. Credits are being rolled. She sits down on one of the chairs as the previous visitors get out to see the rest of the museum. The clip starts and she feels her breath hitch as she sees Velica, her mother, smiling through the camera. It's almost like she's looking right at her.

 

She sees the woman take the microphone and clearing .

 

“Is it on–yeah okay. Hello, my name is Velica and I am a strategist fighting in World War III. Today is September 3rd 2019. Hum, what else should I say ?” Her chuckle is soon followed as she nods at someone behind the camera and gives back the microphone. The clip continues as a montage of photos and videos of the woman with an outside voice narrating.

 

She stands up and leaves the area. The next two rooms are about Jisung Lee and she barely gives him enough time. First seeing her mother shook her emotionally and she isn't exactly ready to now read about her father. Finally, after passing some rooms filled the same as her parents but for people unfamiliar, she enters one she wanted to see the less. She walks slowly, trying not to smile and cry at the same time. She can't decide which and at this point, doing both seems completely logical. She takes a big breath.

 

A big photo of him stands on a wall. It's impossible not to see it. He's standing proudly in front of a building with a rifle on his back. His face is dirty, his uniform is in a horrible condition and despite the blankness of his eyes, a small smirk graces his face.

 

Yoongi Min, also known at Suga, was twenty-one when he enlisted. Coming from the center of New York, he first wanted to work in the field of music but decided otherwise when the war broke out. Kidnapped by Red House in 2021, he was rescued a month after. Engaged to Soyun Lee [see room 11], he gave his life being a famous sharpshooter at the age of twenty-five.

 

Next to the photo, a small clip is being played in repeat. It's him chuckling because of something and she remembers that moment well. It was the day after one of his missions. He had stayed in bed with her all morning before finally deciding to put his uniform and getting outside. Despite the coldness, he was smiling as one of his friends was taking a video of him. She was tailing behind him.

 

“So...who stayed in bed this morning ?” Yoongi rolls his eyes before lifting his hand from his pocket, completely void of shame. “May I know why ?”

 

“'Cause I wanted to be with Soyun, dumb .”

 

The voice cracks up laughing before the video stops and replays itself.

 

She doesn't stay long, looks around before viewing the following room. She has seen enough of him. If she would have stayed longer, it would have hurt more.

 

Room 11 is about herself. She takes a breath and realizes she's suddenly very tired. She rolls her shoulder, realizing she's very tense. She doesn't move from her standing point and quickly decides not to see the last of the museum, leaving as quickly as she can. She passes by people, carefully trying not to bump into anyone. Her beanie still on her head, she fixes it and finally, she's out. It's like a breath of fresh air.

 

Leaning against the front wall of the museum, she rolls a cigarette. She exhales the smoke as she stares at the world around her. Not many things changed but there are some key differences. The buildings are the same but it's the people that make her remember that it isn't 2022 but 2042, twenty years in the future. Teenagers don't walk with their phones against their eyes. Young adults don't curse at every opportunity they have. Parents are much more familiar with strangers. Everyone is very polite which is a weird sight. What happened ? People changed and she doesn't know what exactly was the cause.

 

She woke up a month ago but didn't exactly panic at first. Since everything was pretty much the same, she didn't feel the shock. She didn't believe the people telling her it was 2042. It was impossible since the day before was December 19th 2022. The shock came just after that. It was like a slap to the face. She was trembling, trying not to vomit her guts out, clenching her nails in her skin to stop her tears from coming. What had happened ? That was the question she couldn't answer, didn't have the answer to.

 

She still doesn't have the answer to her question but it doesn't matter for now. She doesn't want to have a migraine for trying to find out answers she knows she doesn't have.

 

She crushes her cigarette on the ground before throwing the in the garbage. The streets are clean, it's a weird sight. She walks back to the apartment given to her with her head down, making sure she seems oblivious to the men in black with their eyes focused on her.

 

xxx

 

The day after, Soyun thinks she's sitting in the perfect spot. She has the view of the window on her left, the door on her right and the therapist in front. She can see everything; the escapes just in case or anything weird and unusual. Despite being on the third floor, she knows how to bend and not break a bone in case she needs to jump pout of the window. She knows how to run the fastest in case she needs to take the stairs. She just knows. Despite her relaxed position, she's on edge. Anything can happen. And that's not counting the weird feeling she has every time she comes here. It's been two weeks and she can't shake it off no matter what.

 

Her cup of tea sits untouched in front of her. It's very hot, maybe she can use this excuse as to why she doesn't sip it like the British do, like how the therapist does at this very second. No words are said. It's almost uncomfortable. Soyun doesn't really know what to talk about so she results on keeping shut.

 

“How was your week ?”

 

Soyun has to physically stop the snort from coming out of .

 

Words can have a lot of synonyms. For this particular question, she hesitates between “dull”, “mundane” and “uneventful”. Of course, no matter the word chosen, everything would be a lie. She doesn't answer for a moment, choosing instead to stare intently at the therapist with a hard look.

 

“Boring.” Immediately after she picks up her cup of tea and drinks it despite it being burning while still staring at the woman in front of him. The later sighs, removes her glasses before putting them on again.

 

“You know...” she sighs, “I can't help you if you don't open up to me.”

 

Who does she think she is ? Soyun raises an eyebrow.

 

“I'm just fine. I'm adjusting.”

 

“Soyun. You fought in World War Three, disappeared and reappeared twenty years later without aging and knowing what happened. You lost your parents, your fiancé, everyone you loved. You have more than mild anxiety.” Soyun's breath hitches. She freezes. “You are not well.”

 

A second later, the door is slammed shut.

 

xxx

 

“Where is he.”

 

“Soyun. I really don't think it's–“

 

“Where. Is. He.” Her heart is panicking, her eyes are blurry. She didn't eat for more than thirty-two hours. She didn't sleep for approximately the same time. She needs to see him before she breaks down even more.

 

The man sighs before moving to the left. He was guarding a room, his room and Soyun doesn't think before barging in. She sees him on the bed. She sighs and sits on the chair next to him. He's asleep. After a month in Red House, he was finally back in the camps. Her heart leaps at the sight and she grabs his left hand.

 

“I was worried, idiot. I'm not ready to let you go and you still have to marry me.” More curses fly from before she decides to shut up. She usually avoids showing her worry but at this moment, she doesn't care at all. She loves him too much to try and be nonchalant.

 

After some time, she closes her eyes and falls asleep, holding his hand being enough to relax her.

 

xxx

 

To: JimOUT

i think I drank too much coffee

i can't stop thinking bull

help

i had four cups

i haven't slept in 32 hours

i can hear colors