The Thirty-Eight Tale

Her belongings were all scattered in a mass of disarray around her room. 

It was caliginous inside, with barely any light seeping through the creased edges of her curtains. 

Minhyuk sighed as he held onto her figure tighter, the light illuminating his pale complexion as he shifted, striving to comfort her as much as he could by the assurance and warmth of his arms around her.

It unnerved him relentlessly how he couldn't seem to do anything else besides hold her against him. He could never understand the younger teen's worry, why she was so extremely upset, why she couldn't seem to stop crying and worrying no matter how many times he had reassured her that everything was going to be alright, that everything was going to turn out for the better, and that he'd always be there by her side no matter what befalls in the future.

She was inconsolable, and he felt like a complete failure for seemingly making things worse, a liability, a fool who had promised once upon a time that he'd make her the happiest person alive, but only to end up letting her down.

He clenched his teeth in frustration.

But what could he do? What could someone like him, a person who couldn't even be seen by anyone, a person who had never actually truly existed, do? 

He was merely a fictional character in one of her many books, a figment of imagination created by this young teen's profound imagination.

No words he said or spoke was ever going to reach her.

A touch from the shoulder, nor hugs from him was ever going to be felt by her.
 
And so he continuously hoped and prayed out loud for someone to finally hear his plea, for someone to finally show up and sweep the girl off of her misery.

Something is telling me that if I don't study for my Math test, I'm going to ruefully regret it.