A/N

Always...

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A middle-aged women heard the front door of her house open and she froze as she saw who had stepped foot in her home, luggage behind her.

Her eyes lost almost all life, then carried a weight of sadness and sympathy in mere seconds.

“I’m back… Mom,” the voice of the figure that entered her home was weak and sounded so fragile, much like the owner’s heart. She shrugged and tried to give off the best smile she could, but only sobbed as the middle–aged women rushed to hug her tightly. She hugged back, so desperate to find any form of comfort, and practically clung onto the women, her age more than her own aged doubled.

“My poor, poor daughter,” She kissed the crown of her daughter’s head, a look of sadness on her face as she hated to see her child sob so brokenly. “My Seungwan, what have you gotten yourself into?”

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 I remember the past days

Why did I hurt so badly?

Memories that left me and faded recollections

 Make me tired against this strange world

“You can’t stay in there forever Seulgi,” the artist paid no attention to the soft and slow, desperate knocking on her door along with the tired voice behind it, “It’s been two weeks Seulgi, please, at least let me see your face.”

Seulgi did not move from her spot, sitting on her bed, sketchbook on her lap as her pencil rapidly drew out sketches.

She did not feel anything when she heard the owner of the voice, Joy, leave, their footsteps dragging away not breaking her focus from her sketchbook.

Her dorm room was a mess; there were hundreds of sketches, papers, everywhere. There were also messy and detailed paintings. They were scattered on all her tables, her bed, and on the floor. If a spot on a table didn’t have papers covering it, it had an empty mug that used to hold coffee.

Seulgi felt coffee running through her veins again, and she almost broke the paper from pushing the pencil on it too hard when she realized it wasn’t Wendy running through her veins.

Wendy wasn’t running through her veins anymore.

No.

Seulgi refused to believe it.

It was all she had left of Wendy.

Because she wasn’t her beside her.

Because she wasn’t scolding her for keeping her dorm room so messy.

Because she wasn’t worried about how sickly she looked.

Because she wasn’t holding her in her arms and singing her favorite songs.

Because she was gone.

Wendy was gone.

The words had Seulgi coughing as she held back tears, refusing to let her composure break.

She looked down at her hands, red and in pain from drawing and painting. She never noticed it, even when she took a minute or two to drink some coffee or go to the washroom. She looked at that dreaded mirror and almost broke down when she saw her reflection.

Seulgi had become so pale. Her face dry and lips chapped from lack of sleep and hydration. Her shoulders were slumped and her eye bags were worse than ever.

And her eyes were empty.

Seulgi remembered her painting that only reminded her of the story of Life and Death, her appearance reminding her of the figures in those paintings.

Seulgi knew Wendy was going to leave, she knew that a farewell was going to happen eventually. She saw the plane ticket, it was there in black and white in her very hands just a week or so ago.

She and Wendy had always talked about it, Seulgi almost unmoving as they casually talked about it, preparing for the worst.

So why was something keeping her from looking away at her wretched reflection that made her sick to the stomach?

Why was Seulgi feeling so broken and torn when memories of warmth and light played through her mind?

Oh, then there’s you

 Within my scattered heart

 Oh it’s you

Seulgi sighed, and swallowed back the tears threatening to fall. She refused to do so, Seulgi knew that she’s shed enough tears. She knew if Wendy saw her now, the latter would only be upset with her.

A part of Seulgi wish she did, because it meant that Wendy would still be beside her.

Her hands, covered in paint and pencil marks, drew freely on the paper, drawing a view out of a window, the sky clear and objects soaring.

Paper airplanes…

They were messily sketched, but it was surely what she was drawing.

Seulgi froze, her eyes fixated on the picture she had just drawn, and her mind trying to process what she had just done.

Then she processed what she had been doing, locked up in her dorm room, for two weeks.

Find the secret that’s been hidden

 For a long time deep inside my mind

 Hidden these precious words

 I will tell you now

 Oh then there’s you

She looked to her right and looked at another sketch, her hands picking it up as she breathed out in disbelief.

“I…” She mumbled as her fingers traced the lines that made the scene of someone running down a hallway backwards, smile soft and eyes warm.  The hallways were lined with paintings, and instantly, Seulgi remembered this time.

The art gallery…

Seulgi almost smiled remembering how childish Wendy was.

Seulgi smiled when she remembered Wendy managing to make her join in with her immature antics.

Then suddenly a frown came upon her lips and she wondered if Wendy treasured the memories they shared as much as she did.  

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“Now that you’re all calmed down,” the middle-aged lady sat down at her dining table, across her daughter, handing her a cup of hot cocoa.

“I missed this,” she heard her daughter mumble into the cup before taking a sip.

“Seungwan-ah, I think you miss what you left in Korea more,” she saw her daughter’s eyes become glazed with sadness again, “Tell me about it, I wanna hear about the fun and new memories you made,”

“I went to this art gallery, Mom. The hallways were huge!” Wendy smiled at the memory and how she ran in front of Seulgi so energetically, turning around to run backwards to give the latter a smile, because sometimes that’s all sh