Jung Kook~

~ Seven weeks after their parents death ~ 

I sit in the kitchen, the whole room bringing back memories. My gaze strays, remembering how Omma and her used to prepare dinner. She would complain and whine a load, never wanting to do anything more then was required.

Now look at her.

My sister moves around the kitchen, doing everything as if routined. Easily. Without question.

But this is different any way. Back then, it was carefree, her movements loose and normal. Now, I watch as Noona walked around the kitchen making dinner, her actions robotic and stiff. She has been like this for a while now, weeks. She sat silent, her expression lost, unless she had a task. She would sit still for hours at a time, unable to find the will to do anything with herself; the only time she looked comfortable, was when she was taking the lead in her duties.

She ate. She slept. She lived; going through the motions.

It's as if she really had nothing but that left.

And it wasn't the same. She wasn't like this at first, she didn't loose all emotion, even on that day... but for a while now, even though she's been trying to mask it, she has been acting like this. She was empty, all the time. And I don't know why.

It isn't the mourning. Of course that was there, but I had learnt to see passed that, to what else was going on. Our mourning, it became regular behaviour; it was a part of us that would be here forever, never leaving. I know that. People never get over thing like this, it merely became part of who they were. The grieving becomes a natural part of life, always there in your mind.

It's part of us both. 

"Noona," I say, working to keep my tone... alive.

"Hm?" she asks, as she stirred a pot. 

"Are you okay?"

She stopped her movements, and slowly turned to me. Her eyes were red. The way they'd been for weeks. From the very first day she cried herself to sleep alone, lonely muffled whimpers. I listened all night, awake even when she finally fell asleep, feeling useless, hopeless.

But even worse than that, she acted like everything was fine. Aside from the robotic times, with my prompting in conversation; she'd act 'normal'. Except it wasn't. She'd act overly happy, over enthusiastic, too fake. It like she was trying to be happy but just couldn't. Like she'd forgotten how to smile, but was trying so hard it hurt to watch. I could still see her eyes beyond that smile, the pain couped up there, and also regret. Sometimes, I thought I saw anger. But what was she regretting? Who was she angry with? I didn't know. I couldn't take it. I should be helping, but I don't know what to do. 

I've sealed myself off from school, not bothering to speak much. I sit down all day, staring into the middle distance. No friends. I don't remember what it felt like. I can't even focus, there's too many thoughts buzzing around for that.

What use am I to my sister? She may be older, but I'm her brother, I've always been here. We've always been close. I liked to think we could tell each other any thing, no everything about one and other. But I just don't know what to do, what's going on in her mind.

I'm lost.

Appa and Omma, what do I do?

My chest sears in pain, and of course no response comes. They're already gone, saved themselves from this pain and darkness, leaving us behind without so much as a flashlight.

"Yes Jungkook-ah," she says in a monotone, and I see the corners of twitching, almost like she's trying to smile. But her expression stays the same, as if she doesn't even have the strength to even fake one, not one small smile. "I'm okay."

My eyes sting as I look to hers, finding nothing. She doesn't look directly at me, rather at the space above me. 

"Noona," I say lowly. No response.

My heart suddenly turns to stone. Noona's sanity and attitude is all that's got a lead on me. I can't lose her, I can't. She's all I've got left. If she's gone, I'm gone, I'll finally loose it. I'll become a drone, moving through life with no purpose.

No. I can't. She can't. I can't let her.

"Sunny Noona," I intend some sort of forceful shout, but all that comes out is a desperate, whimpered, whisper.

Her head immediately snapsd up at the sound of my voice, something in my tone triggering the automatic reaction. I almost exhale in relief as she stares into my eyes, and I could finally see life in hers, bright and full of emotion. Concern.

"Jungkook-ah," she searches my eyes. "What is it?"

I just stare at her. I'm not sure when, but I suddenly notice a shivering sensation taking over my body, and my lip trembles. Again. This is one of the scariest parts about this kind of feeling. I don't realise I'm breaking, but inside my body is drained. Maybe it's relief from now, or maybe still grief for them. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm both emotionally and mentally tired, even if I don't feel it myself. My subconscious can't take it. And once in a while everything shuts down and it seeps out, without me even realising.

No one would understand. Except her.

Her face falls, and she bites her lip worriedly, taking me in with a soft sigh. Sh'e smaller than me, but her touch is protective and motherly any way. I feel safe.

"Hush now," she sighs as I buried my head in her shoulder. "Sshh."

There's no point in words. We both know useless and meaningless words like 'it's okay' or 'you're fine' are just that. They mean nothing. 

Still, her words just make me feel worse, make me want to punch someone. I know how hard this is on her, I know how much this is affecting my sister too. I'm not the only one in pain. I know I've become clingy to my sister, over-protective despite our age difference. But she's hurting. Who is there to hold her? Who is there to rock her to sleep every day? The bags under her eyes, the paleness of her features, who cares for that?

No one.

I'm just a burden to her. I know. I know she doesn't see it like that, I know she cares about me. I know she's taken on responsibility of me, fighting to stay in this house, our parents house. Getting extra jobs, any work she could get. She won't tell me, but I know at least one of those was working night shifts in a bar. Something she would've never considered before.

But she isn't just think about herself. No, she has two mouths to fend for. An extra responsibility, tying her down, causing her to have to work those extra hours. Because of me, she did double the work she would have to do otherwise, used double the amount of energy she would do. I squeeze my eyes closed, as I tell myself what I always do; I'd grow older, work harder, so Noona and I could be comfortable.

I pull back from her, as she keeps a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes are tired, exhausted from being up until 4am, her featured washed out, her figure thinner than before. This is my fault. I'm causing this, I'm ruining her. I'm