About Us

1

A young boy was sat at the front seat of his father's car on their way for a family trip. It's only rare for his mother to allow him to sit in the front as that is her spot most of the time, but that the young boy has been nagging her about it, she has no choice but to give up the seat.

A couple of years, no more than 10, yet he is already so solemn at talking his way out through things. His father's friends think that he is a special kind of boy meant for brilliant success, and his mother's friends think that he is a boy of charming words. Being sociable is not that difficult, or at least what he would tell his friends who consider otherwise. It is simply difficult to believe that there are people who dislike him. Though a grievous fluke of none other than his own loved family would bring misery to his short life.

A night drive is not a thing of his father, but a juvenile Y/N is no one to care as he wouldn't know how to drive anyway. Car lights passing by their right side every minute, brief, albeit blinding the tired eyes. The music playing quietly is no help. They said it's nice to have a diverse taste in music, but who would have thought that playing pop music will hurt?

Now the rain is here to accompany them, unfortunately not what they needed when they drive next to cliffs. Soft prayers from the back seat intrigued the youthful ears, but he's too shy, or perhaps was taught that it was taboo, to stare at his mother praying. At least mannerism was taught, he lowered the music and let his mother beg with her hands folded.

"Dad, Is everything okay? Are we going to die?" He pulled the sleeve of the weary middle-aged man. Not that he was surprised, but seeing his father's eyes ajar thrilled him. His father only nodded even though he knew his son has thousands of words he wanted to say, or ask. Y/N leaned himself back to the seat and focused his eyes on the road.

He counted the number of cars passing by their right side, but not for once they saw a vehicle behind or in front of them.

"One... Two... Three..." Three was enough to hurt two ears. Scratching a temple is a way to show a sign of annoyance, but also a fashion to wake oneself up from somnolence, oddly his father has been doing it a little too many times.

First, he numbered mentally. A car almost flattened their engine, which his father honked forthwith with full aggression. A small heart sank as deep as it could, recalling how a small impact can flip them over the cliff. The prayers turn fierce, the name of God is being repeated more than a Father would in his Sunday service. There was nothing to hold; not the dashboard, not the handle either for he is too short to reach it.

Second, another one. If he hadn't break it on time, his mother would have met His almighty. Will a three be the last one? At least what he hopes to be. Sweat drops from the wrinkled skin, you would know whose, and the prayer stopped. Everything was silent, damp, and bedevilling.

'Will there be a three?' He focused his eyes on the approaching yellow lights.

Three, father is no more.

All grey, with a hint of red, was all he could see. Someone is laying next to him, but the body is cold and the skin is creased and hairy. He knows who that is. Behind him, a faint voice calling his name and the silent love of her life, and he would guess that is God Himself.

"Y/N... Where are you?" His mother groaned as she weakly reaches for his son's hand.

Y/N swallowed a load of iron-smelled liquid, which hurts his throat a little, before reaching his mother's hand. "I'm here, mom." But there was no reply.

"What a waste of a lively heart..." He unnecessarily mumbled like the times he would use his mouth for nonsense. Minutes passing by and his heartbeat is slowing down, he could only wait for his turn to serve as his parents.