January 5, 2010

“What?” Hyunsu mutters in between her teeth, eyes heavy with tears and sleep. Still bemused and flummoxed, she could barely follow as the information processed in a pace so slow, she felt as though the world had turned inscrutable, her brother’s words, slurred and muddled. Luhan had just told her about the death of Jongin but not of his funeral. Inside, the man struggles to find the words, to mind her temperament and to keep her calm as much as possible.

“Luhan,” She takes his hand, her eyes begging him to stop whatever this was, whether or not it be a bad joke Jongin wanted to play on the woman. Her brother remains silent. He is afraid for her, afraid of how she might react and of how it might affect her. Luhan can’t bear to watch his sister disintegrate before him. But he knows it can’t be helped, he knows it to be inevitable. Besides, Jongin was her world.

“He was always here, Luhan. Jongin was always here! He kept me warm, he left me beautiful roses, he sang for me, he—” She suddenly falls silent, her perception working its magic.

“It wasn’t Jongin, Hyunsu.” The man sadly admitted. As much as it pained him to tell her of the truth, there was no other way to break it to her. The desolation on behalf of the reality was ineluctable.

Gradually, the vague images of her husband slaving away for her transforms into a vivid picture of her brother: Luhan cheerily greeting her whenever he dropped by from work, Luhan eating by her side while he told her of his day, Luhan recounting memories they shared as children, Luhan reading out the get-well-soon cards their friends and families sent her, Luhan dozing off by her side, quivering in the chill. “No.” Was all she could spare.

“I’m sorry.” The man can feel his eyes water but immediately and internally dismisses it. He tells himself off, stay strong Luhan. You are her garrison, her citadel. You can’t break down in front of her or she’ll grow all the more weaker. Promptly, he decides to keep his answers brief from here on out to avoid any emotional bind, realizing that he would rather seem inexpressive than appear spineless. Luhan knows it was what his sister needed, a foundation of stone and not of sand.  

Despite the definite ache in her ribs, Hyunsu feebly sputters out sobs, her breath hitching in the process. “I have to see him,” She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand, ignoring the pain coming from almost every part of her body. “I-I have to see him, Luhan.” Flipping the thick covers, she prepares to sta