❝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴. ❞
Park Ye-jun was a quiet kid. Smart, but reclusive. And one in his life was his eter...
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i wholly embrace death in my arms
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and greet its lord with a blooming smile
༻𖥸༺
YE-JUN WANTS TO LAUGH, A LAUGHTER tinged with incredulity. He also wants to make sure that he is sane, somehow, but he also realizes that his sanity is already questionable in the first place.
He refrains from telling his family about his problems because he fears the possible repercussions.
(He already felt looks of disdain thrown his way. There were also furious glares, looks of distrust or disgust, and faces encompassed by an all-consuming fear when others cross paths with him.
He isn't sure if he can handle it when his family does that to him, and he wishes that he'd never had to discover so.)
He knows, at a tender age of three years old, that remembering memories from a past life isn't normal. It is strange, and also unnerving. If it is a family member of yours that claims to do so, then disbelief is the immediate emotion to feel. When they do realize you are speaking the truth, then fear, disgust, and anger will follow. Well, that is what Athanasius thinks will happen if he spoke of his fuzzy memories that have been in the back of his mind since he was born. For he knows that it is a normal response. That it is the only possible response.
(Ye-Jun knows it is the natural response.
He questions his very existence from time to time, if he is real or not. He already knows that logic doesn't work the way it should be, so the probability of him being caught in misty illusions is high. A wild dream for his afterlife, but it doesn't add up. He feels too much, his senses are working the way they should and acknowledging that fact scares him.)
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He is almost a completely blank slate in this world, as opposed to a canvas covered in white paint to hide the colors that are still there and still exist in the past.
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HIS EXCUSES THAT WERE ALREADY weak, grew weaker in the face of this unprecedented situation. He thought he already had it all figured it out. But, it turns out that his earlier conclusion still leaves him unsatisfied. The inside of his mind is still a chaotic mess. A labyrinth that even he himself is confused by. He meanders. The fact that his meandering thoughts always end up questioning his sense of self, is quite telling.
He decides that ripping the veil that obscured his sight of his core and soul, would be the best choice. No chances of talking himself out of it.
He rips it off, quickly and efficiently. The sound echoes in his mind. Until, it just stops.
He can see it now. His soul that is littered in cracks and bruises that he successfully ignored in the past. He is struck, by the true extent of the damages he refused to acknowledge. He is hideous. He is revolting.
("He was a genius, or a prodigy, he clearly had above average intelligence coupled with charisma and good looks."
Only, he didn't truly have good looks. He was a rotten apple, and it wouldn't have taken too long before that reflected on the outside.)
It strikes a chord within him, and signals the re-emergence of an emotion that he is all too familiar with.
Terror.
(Terror can be an old friend, but not a good friend. It doesn't even come near the meaning of 'good'. At best, terror is a clingy companion that he can't get rid of. At worst, it can be called a stalker, a leech. The way he refers to it depends wholly on his mood, or the situation he is in. After all, terror aided him in his quest of survival, and often helped him take control of both situations and people for his own benefit.)
The sight of the cracks without anything to obscure it incites terror within himself, because what will happen to him, once it all breaks apart? When the cracks become fragments, what can he do then?
It is an easy choice to make. There is the uncertainty of his continued existence once he falls apart. He doesn't know if he is capable of putting himself back together. There is no one out there that can help him, because he knows, deep inside, that he should be the one to piece himself back together. No one is by his side in this story world to support him. Now, he truly feels the absence of Ju-Hee's comforting presence, his classmates and his instruments' soothingly familiar chiming.
Before everything falls apart, it would be better if he broke himself apart first.
Into pieces that he can, at the very least, manage.
✂------------------------------------------
Park Ye-Jun, age 26, died on the 14th of April 2017 in a car accident in the city of Daegu, South Korea.
On the 15th of April, the 340th Imperial Year, Prince Athanasius de Alger Obelia is born to Emperor Claude and Empress Lucille.
On the night of the 15th of August, the 340th Imperial Year, Empress Lucille Di Saint is assassinated in the imperial nursery's quarters.
