until the spring day comes again, until the flowers bloom again
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Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was afraid of cemeteries. She trembled whenever she passed one, and cried whenever she had to enter one. It wasn't a rare fear for kids, but in her household, that was unacceptable. She was raised to be an assassin, a shield, a tool. She had to have no fear.
So her mother moved the family into a new house, one that was smaller and a little less pretty, but the worst thing was that it was right next to the cemetery. Every night, her mother would drag her deep into the cemetery and lock up the tall iron-gates until the next morning, leaving her to battle the night on her own.
For the first few days, she cried herself sore, she cried till she had no tears left to cry, then she proceeded to attempt to find some sort of way out. When that proved to be fruitless, she'd lean against the tall iron-gates and wait till dawn, staying up on full alert to make sure nothing attacked her and dragged her down to Hell with them.
Weeks in, she found herself getting increasingly tired of this and decided fuck it, if they wanna drag me to Hell go ahead. That was the first time she got proper sleep after the ritual of getting trapped in the cemetery begun.
It took months, however, for her to really get over her phobia and accept the lovely land of the resting dead to be 'just another place on earth'.
Back then, she really didn't understand why her mother would do that to her, but she never dared to question her mom. No one did. Her mom was the Law at home and anyone who went against the Law faced judiciary punishments. Punishments neither the little girl nor anyone at home would risk getting. It was better to stay in the dark than to be homeless, afterall. And maybe, as Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes once said, I suppose it will all make sense when we grow up.
And it did for the little girl. When she grew up, she realised her mother had applied exposure therapy in the most rash and wrong way ever on her young unknowing self, and it actually worked. To say she was mind blown would be an understatement. She felt so many conflicting emotions at once about this particular topic she didn't even know which she should prioritize if this ever casually come up as a conversational topic.
The little- well, not so little now- girl was Kwon Seulgi. And the cemetery, after her ex-boyfriend's death, had became a second home to her during the first month he was buried.
Even in the worst of stormy days, she'd pay him a visit. She'd tell him how things are going in the Clan he'd loved more than life, she'd tell him about life, about everything he'd always asked to hear about, know about when he was alive.
This was regret, Seulgi supposed. This searing pain, this gaping whole, this feeling of groundlessness, this inability to move on, it was regret, contrition. These were things she didn't do, she didn't say when he was alive and now she living with the consequences. She'd taken for granted that he'd always be here, always be next to her, alive, kicking. It just never occurred to her that he'd go out just like any light in her life. He was always so strong, so unbeatable, so unreachable.
