JiAh had committed no sin, done no wrong, but here she was, feeling like she was being blame for every murder, every sin, every wrong that had occurred. Hoya stomped back and forth, his temper rising with each breath. His eyes sending laser beams at her direction.

JiAh on the other hand sat like a wilted flower in winter. Her eyes stared blankly at the red wall in front of her. She remained unmoved, silent, still, frozen.

"You were supposed to stay with my mother all night and you can't even do that!" Hoya huffed. His eyes glared at her unmoving soul. God, she was so strange.

"Never ever talk to my friends, never unless told to. " He shouted at her. She softly nodded.

“Stupid .” He ranted. He huffed out air and ran his fingers through his hair before stomping away, out of the home and slamming the door shut along with him.

JiAh flinched when the door slammed. Her heart raced two beats faster before returning to normal. But the whole time, her eyes never drifted from the red wall. It was the color of blood. Red like blood.

She hated red walls. She loathed them like they were some sort of skin eating virus. She sat there as time ticked by, seconds pasted, seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. She sat, her whole world revolving around nothing but that red wall. Red the color of blood.

She wanted to paint the wall over, in any color but red. Any color but the color of blood.

She didn't know how long she sat like that, how long she sat like a statue. She remained like a statue for most of her life, something that lived watching the world revolve. Maybe this was why she understood it. It was the perks of being a wilting wall flower.

She hadn't even noticed that she had fallen asleep until she had awoken once more due to the slamming of the front door. Her body popped up, her eyes lifted open. Her mind stung in a whirlwind before she turned her shoulder to find Hoya stumbling back in drunk as hell.

Her eyes shot open at the sight of her husband stumbling in.

His steps were slow, his eyes half closed, his hair a mess, his clothes wrinkled, he reeked of liquor. He looked like an absolute mess. She smiled.

“You’re a mess.” She muttered, not to him, but more to herself. He didn’t seem to notice her. She didn’t care. He never did notice her, while he was drunk or sober.

She stood up from the couch, her muscles felt tired and weak. She walked over to him, still dressed in the electric blue gown she wore tonight.

“Pabo.” She whispered to him just before he stumbled on his own feet falling towards her. She caught his shoulders with her arms helping him balance. His entire weight crashed upon her but she somehow managed to help him back to the couch where she laid him down.

She stood up in front of him watching him with curious and observant eyes. JiAh didn’t want to understand her husband, but she did.

Hoya was another one of those kids raised with that silver spoon. That kind of person who wanted to jump into a car and drive, anywhere, somewhere, nowhere. He was that kind of free soul, that person that wanted to travel the world. He was scare to chase after the world. Hoya was a coward. A coward who didn’t see what he already had. He was stubborn, so stubborn he was blind.

She went over to the bedroom and grabbed a blanket. She wanted to move him to the bedroom, but knowing the state he was in, he’ll never make it without falling. She walked back to find him still slouched in the couch. Sleeping.

She kneel down and took off his shoes, then his suit jacket before laying his head down into the pillows and finally pulling the blanket over his body.

She sat on the edge of the couch staring down at him. He was handsome, she couldn’t deny that. Alluring even, and he had the soul to match. His soul was alluring. Deep dark hair, a strong jaw line, straight nose and plump lips, his eyes were the color of coffee and held the oceans in them. She ran her fingers through his hair combining his dark stands. She leaned in towards his left ear.

“Stop being scare Hoya.” She gently whispered to him, though he couldn’t hear or better yet understand. But even if she did tell him this, he would never had listened. Her words fell on deaf ears.
--

He waited for her to return to the bedroom. Her fragrance slowly drifting away with her body.  He waited for the footsteps to drift far enough before he opened his eyes.

Yes, he always held his alcohol well, but tonight he had drunk more than usual, more than needed. His head was spinning he was a mess, but he could still comprehend up from down. He could also comprehend her words, though she didn’t know this.

 “Stop being scare Hoya.” She had told him. He scoffed at that. She of all people understood him, someone who was a stranger to him. The irony of that, his wife was a stranger to him. Yet she understood him far too well. Better than most people. Maybe even himself

And this made him angry. Angry knowing that she knew him so well. Angry knowing that he was so easy to read. Angry because he was angry with her. Angry because he knew it wasn’t her fault. Angry because he was angry. He was angry. And he had no right to be.

His eyes shifted to the red wall beside him. God he hated that wall, yet he never had the time to repaint it. He noticed her and how she stared at it earlier, how her eyes were so far away, how her eyes looked so fragile like they could combust into tears at any possible moment.  Her eyes were what scared him, along with her cold yet innocent character. There were times she seemed scare, but times when she looked like she didn’t even care.

That was the thing about women. There were times they didn’t care. And not caring was what scared him the most.

His eyes refocused onto the blink red wall, gosh what was it about that wall?

What was it about a red wall that caught her attention?  And why did he care?