freedom come

Yongsun reads all the books about farming and gardening that Moonbyul has left behind. It might be an accident that Moonbyul has forgotten her books, but Yongsun wants to believe it is symbolic, that there must be a reason why they are still in her apartment and not in Moonbyul’s duffel bag.

Yongsun finds reading about planting and herbicides boring, but the book about flowers has piqued Yongsun’s interests, not the words on the pages but the colourful pictures. It reminds Yongsun of her childhood when she would pick up a book and stare at the pictures, she misses the simplicity of it all and blames the Theory of Life for messing with her head.

Before she goes to bed Yongsun looks through Flora, a textbook about flowers, she reaches out, touching the page, tracing the stem, the leaves and the petals with her hand, the paper is soft under her fingertips. She smiles, finding the touch a nice change from the cold and hard hologram-pad. Yongsun falls asleep with the textbook in her hand.

The blaring sound of her alarm wakes her and as she looks around the room for Moonbyul, Yongsun realises she misses her terribly, more than she feels she should, but here is something: Yongsun has recently set a rule for herself, to stop limiting herself and be freer. So when she can still smell Moonbyul’s scent on the pillows, the comforter and the duvet, Yongsun does not cry.

Moonbyul has left pieces of herself here and there; the steel polisher is still in the cabinet above the bathroom sink, her books are still in the shelves, even Moonbyul’s hologram-pad, that she had thrown across the room, is on the kitchen counter and not in the trashcan. Yongsun tinkers with the hologram-pad whenever she has time to spare (which is quite often nowadays).

She likes to keep herself busy, it is a distraction, a pleasant one at that. Yongsun goes outside more often as well, she enjoys the sunlight and the air (despite the faint smell of oil and metal lingering). There is a public library only a couple blocks away, a small park only a bus ride away. A short fifteen-minute walk down the road is a café that Yongsun likes to visit.

Sometimes, when it is raining, Yongsun sketches and draws, finding tranquility in the sound of the gentle taps against the window — it is a melody that no composer can recreate. Yongsun drags the pencil across the paper, she finds a style that she likes, she draws line upon line, until she sees a face staring back at her, her own no-less.

Yongsun discovers herself in the blank between the lines. She frowns, grinds her teeth, suddenly the pitter-patter against the window turns into chaos, to gunshots, to steel clashing against steel. Yongsun clenches her hand, the pencil splinters in her fist. The emptiness (the white) between each line is pitiful, Yongsun colours it in with the broken pencil.

Yongsun visits the mental health adviser once a week (his name is Baek, remember that, Yongsun tells herself). He asks questions that Yongsun does not have answers for, instead she explains, expands upon things. They go through her thoughts together; trail back to the beginning and make their way towards the end.

More often than not, they sit in silence as Yongsun tries to think (she really does) while Baek wears a worried expression.

«The Theory of Life,» Baek begins, «it’s something you created when you were younger, when your parents died.»

«When I found out they were sent to the frontier.» Yongsun corrects.

«Perhaps this theory was a way for you to protect yourself from reality… sort of like armour?» says Baek, «and now you can’t get rid of it.»

He straightens in his seat, writes something down on his notepad, and takes a deep breath.

«But it’s not only the theory that bothers you?»

«I started having nightmares when the war was declared over,» Yongsun’s voice shakes as she speaks, «I still have them.»

«About what, if I may ask?»

«Flashbombs.»

Baek’s mouth falls slightly open, his hand tightens around the pencil, he mutters to himself and scribbles something on the notepad.

«Horrible things those flashbombs, wiped out my entire hometown, nothing was left except— »

«Blank,» Yongsun finishes, «blank, the ground was blank, drained of colour, the Swiss doctor died from her wounds caused by the bombs.»

«Ah, you told me about her.»

«Yes, I… feel bad for resenting her, I kept telling myself to tolerate her, but now I realise that she was just doing her job and that she was a volunteer.»

«We can not alter the past, Yongsun.»

She has nothing to say to that, Yongsun stares at the wall, sensing Baek’s eyes on her, ripping through her skin and gazing deep into her soul. Yongsun feels vulnerable, she trembles.

«There is something I wonder about,» Baek puts his pencil and notepad down on the table, «the in-between, the illusion that must be a lie. Yongsun, where did that come from? I understand the beginning and the end, it is a cycle of some sort, that life carries on despite the trials it throws at you, but… the in-between which is supposed to be full of deceit and lies —why?»

«I...»

Yongsun lowers her head, wraps her arms around herself, and cries. She hears Baek move in his seat, hears his shoes tap against the wooden floor, and when she opens her eyes, she sees a box of tissues on the table. Yongsun takes several, blowing her nose and wiping away the tears.

«I loved my parents so much, I looked up to them, wanted to be like them —I wanted to be a doctor and help people the same way my parents did, that was before I wanted to be an engineer. Then they were sent to the frontier by the government, to help, and I couldn’t even be angry because it was for a good cause!»

Yongsun begins to shake, the tissue in her hand crumples.

«When I heard what happened it hurt, it hurt, it hurts so much, I woke up with a lump in my throat every morning, I dreaded so much, everything, I couldn’t breathe, I was so afraid, I was just a teenager, I felt so much at the time, I thought that if I were to survive, I had to care a little less, feel less… every thing had to be an illusion, I couldn’t let the emotions, the digressions, the details and every thing in the in-between destroy me.»

«You shut yourself out?» Baek says quietly.

«To survive, I had to focus solely on the beginning and the end —I couldn’t be swayed by what I felt whenever something occurred!» Yongsun whimpers into her own hands.

«Isn’t it awfully lonely to live like that?» He whispers, surely not for Yongsun’s ears but she hears it. 

Yes it is.

Baek wanted to have another meeting with Yongsun in the same week (he is worried for her mental health), so here they are in his office again, Baek holding a pen and a notepad and Yongsun looking off into the distance.

«The flashbombs remind you of the war which consequently reminds you of the Theory of Life,» Baek says, «and the theory is something you want to get rid of.»

Yongsun nods slowly. She hears him sigh, and through the corner of her eye, Yongsun sees him tapping the tip of the pen against his mouth.

«When will your theory become a fact?» Baek wonders.

«When I die, but that is only if I’ve managed to live in accordance with the theory.»

Baek stops tapping the pencil against his lips, places it on the table along with his notepad, and clasps his hands together.

«I know very little about theories except that they can be disproven by an observation that disagrees with their predictions, perhaps, if we disprove the Theory of Life, it might disappear?» Baek suggests, «how can we disprove it?»

Yongsun is quiet for a long time, her eyes dart around the room while she thinks, she parts her lips as if to speak, a thought lingering on her tongue, but then she quickly shuts . After a while Yongsun finally whispers:

«The beginning is not the end, the end is not the beginning, everything in-between is real, it is the truth.»

Baek hums, frowning and drawing his lips into a thin line.

«Have you felt anything that seems real, Yongsun?» He asks in a worrisome voice, hope hidden behind his concern.

Here is something that you must remember: Yongsun is not made out of steel, bone connects her, flesh holds her intact, the blood coursing through her veins keeps her warm. Yongsun is human and nothing will ever take that away from her.

She feels and has felt.

For a very long time Yongsun has thought that the emotions in all the moments of her life would send her down the path of insanity (she has seen lunacy unfold and does not want to be a part of the chaos).

To be driven mad from grief, to drown in loneliness, to die from heartbreak, that is the nightmare Yongsun truly fears the most and it is for that exact reason the Theory of Life was created.

«I —I don’t think that feeling is weakness, but it… slows you down in a way,» Yongsun stammers, «I just —I just don’t know, Baek. I want to be rid of this theory, the flashbombs, I don’t want to live in confinement, the sadness in me has turned into pent up frustration, and I’m afraid of it —I just don’t want the war to bother me anymore…»

Towards the end of their meeting, Baek picks up his pencil and notepad. His eyes soften, Yongsun is suddenly fearful.

«Yongsun,» Baek begins, «from what I’ve observed from our first meeting to this one, you’ve been showing signs of having post-traumatic stress disorder as well as anxiety and even depression. You have sleepless nights because you keep seeing bright flashes, most likely the flashbombs…»

Yongsun is not stunned, not the slightest bit surprised (Yongsun has somehow always known but been too enwrapped in her theory to have acknowledged it).

«I can’t give you an official diagnosis, but I can direct you to a state-driven health department that can give you one, if you’d like.»

Yongsun shakes her head. Baek sighs, not out of defeat, he is just scared on her behalf.

«Don’t hesitate to contact me if you feel you’re getting worse,» Baek continues to stare worryingly at Yongsun, «you have my contact information, right?»

Yes, she does, Yongsun will contact him if she feels the need. They continue to talk for a while, even though Yongsun feels that she has nothing else to say. She feels drained and just wants to sleep. When the meeting is over, she forgoes going to the bathroom to wash up and hastily makes her way out of the door.

Whilst outside, a strange feeling overtakes Yongsun causing her legs to shake, her heart to pound and to run dry. She sets her sight on the empty road in front of her and narrows her eyes. She bends her knees slightly, getting into position, and runs. Not away from something, it has never been away, always to somewhere, someplace, though, this time, Yongsun does not run because she knows where to go, she runs because she simply can.

Yongsun soars, nearly flies over the cement, her hair streaming behind her. The wind pricks at her face, tears slip out of the corner of her eyes, she smiles, she laughs loudly, feeling giddy. For the first time in her life, she breaks free from the chains that the Theory of Life has put her in.

Here is something worth noting: the Theory of Life is a rule meant to be followed, and Yongsun has diligently followed it for more than a decade. Now, she wants freedom, so she runs in order to catch it.

One evening when the funeral has long since passed, Yongsun calls Moonbyul. She holds the hologram-pad close to her ear instead of in front of her so that Moonbyul can not see her face. She finds it a bit easier that way.

«Hi,» Yongsun says, «how are you holding up?»

«Tired.» Moonbyul groans, voice groggy from sleep Yongsun notices.

«How are your sisters?»

«Still as persistent.»

«But you love them despite.»

«I love you as well.»

«That’s a different kind of love.»

«I know.»

Yongsun smiles, and she knows Moonbyul is smiling as well, she hears it in the sound of Moonbyul’s voice, the teasing, the fondness, oh! the effect it has on Yongsun, the way it makes her heart pound and her cheeks blush a rosy red.

«Ah, there’s a storm brewing,» Moonbyul says, «it’s a shame, I think you would really like it out here but the thunderstorms can be loud,» there is a slight playfulness in Moonbyul’s voice as she speaks, «I don’t think you would like it.»

«Where are you?»

«I’m on the farm.»

«Yes —no, I mean, are you outside?»

«Yes, I was sleeping on the couch on the porch when you called me. There are holes in the roof, the rain’s dripping on me, you’d hate to be here right now because you don’t like getting drenched.»

«But— »

«—you do like the sound the rain makes,» Moonbyul says, her voice soft now, «I know, Yongsun.»

«Yes, that as well,» Yongsun gently cradles her hand around the edge of the hologram-pad, as if she is cradling Moonbyul’s hand, «but I wouldn’t mind standing in the pouring rain with you.»

«I’m an exception?» Moonbyul laughs lightly.

«You’re a…» Yongsun clicks her tongue, trying to find the right word, «an observation that seems to challenge the reality that I have come to know.»

«Huh,» a beat, then Moonbyul asks: «Is that a good thing?»

«I think so.»

Suddenly, Yongsun knows, and this time she truly acknowledges it. She tells Moonbyul how much she loves her over and over again until Moonbyul tells her to take a deep breath before she runs out of air. They talk long into the night, Yongsun finally falls asleep to Moonbyul’s voice speaking softly in her ear, and when Yongsun wakes up she still feels the hologram-pad clutched tightly in her hand. 

A few days later she visits Baek and tells him what she knows and that she will act on it, but first she has some loose ends she needs to tie up in the capital and in her hometown.

«Okay, Yongsun, okay,» Baek says hesitantly but forces a smile for her sake, «I wish you the best of luck, you have my contact information if you ever need someone to talk to.»

Yongsun breaks out into a sprint once she has exited Baek’s office and is quickly out of the building. A gleeful smile is plastered on her face as she runs to her apartment, just outside it, Yongsun is out of breath and has to lean back against the wall to steady her breathing. She holds a hand over her wildly beating heart and inhales deeply. The air in the City of Steel has never felt fresher.

She puts her apartment up for sale a week later, packs her bag, and before she leaves for the train station, Yongsun goes to the centre of the capital where her parents’ names are inscribed on a war memorial. She leans her forehead against the cold stone and tells her parents that she loves them, and she hopes she has made them proud.

Yongsun takes the train to her hometown, to the train station that had been slowly falling apart but has now been fixed, it is all bittersweet because it had been a dream of her’s to be the one to repair the station, but Yongsun feels slightly relieved that someone else did it for her.

She walks to the cemetery where her sister and her parents lie buried. Yongsun greets her parents again, placing flowers on their graves. She talks to Yonghee, tells her that the war ended a long time ago (in case Yonghee had been killed before it was declared over), she tells her about Moonbyul, how she has fallen heads over heels for the former sergeant.

At the end of their conversation, Yongsun tells Yonghee that she has seen a therapist and that she aims to put an end to the Theory of Life. For a moment everything is quiet, then the birds begin to chirp, the wind blows forcefully through her hair, Yongsun hears the train in the distance. She likes to think it is symbolic, that Yonghee is listening and the world continuing onwards is her answer.

Yongsun takes the train, not back to the capital (she has decided to leave that place in the past), she ventures further into the countryside, while on the train, she imagines that the fields shine an emerald sheen, that the air is not thick, polluted, and will not choke her.

Yongsun spots a young couple, their hands intwined, sitting on the other side of the aisle, two rows in front of her. They must’ve been in the war, Yongsun thinks when she recognises the aviator badge embroidered onto one of the women’s shirts whilst the other bears traces of scorch wounds on her forearms. Yongsun notices that steel surrounds one of the woman’s eyes, she sees it shining through her shirt as well. They are sitting closely, whispering under the noise that the train is making. Yongsun quickly turns away, feeling as if she is intruding on a precious moment.

She stares out of the window, watching the scenery pass by, the towns still in ruins, the untouched fields. Yongsun folds her hands over her lap, tilts her head back and pretends to sleep. The flashbombs go off behind her closed eyes but Yongsun knows they are not real, that those bombs are a part of the past and can not hurt her now.

This is it, Yongsun thinks, this is freedom.

A/N:

hello hello, my my my what have we here what a surprise, what a surprise (an update!). I don’t really have an excuse, I kind of got carried away with everything going on rn 3 on another note: MAMAMOO just came back! so that’s got me happy (: (but I apologise for keeping you guys waiting)

anyway, I wanna keep this short so I’ll see ya in the next chapter (which is also the last chapter) <3

—Despereauxx

(here’s a lil somethin’ for you guys to chew on until the next chapter: how can one disprove the Theory of Life? if I’ve done this right, then the answer should be in this chapter, if not, try lookin’ through the others (but that doesn’t make things easier, oh well))