𝒫ℴ𝓁𝒶𝓇ℴ𝒾𝒹𝓈 || KhunBam

06: Twenty-eight Seasons Without You

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Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

~Yoko Ono

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A twenty-five year old Bam stared blankly at the kitchen table, particularly at the two servings of breakfast in front of him. This specific habit has been stucked to him for the last seven years. He doesn't know how, but it seems that this kind of routine has been engraved to him even before that specific day from the past. Bam just sighed to himself before packing the spare food for his lunch later.

Locking the door to his apartment, he fixed his bag and fished out his phone from his pocket to see who was calling. It's his friend and colleague from school, David Hockney.

"Good morning Bam! Did you receive the information for the school's Eclipse Festival?"

"It just got in. Why?" He asked and looked at his wrist watch.

"Nah, read it. I want to hear your reaction."

"Hmm." The brunette hummed, an iffy feeling blooming in his chest.

Bam stiffened, then rubbed his eyes if he read the document correctly.

"Oh? You got silent. Did you already read it?"

"Why am I the one who will represent the school this year?!" The brunette screeched, not minding the people who are looking at him weirdly.

"It's a majority vote." Bam could feel Hockney shrugging at the other side of the line.

"What about Hoaqin?! He's more capable for this!"

"Yeah, it got me by surprise too when he voted you. Anyways, we teachers and students alike voted you to be the festival's king this year." Bam groaned. He was about to hang up when Hockney screamed 'wait' right beside his ear.

"Can you pitch in my class? I need to run an errand for that annoying nurse. Haaah."

"Oh, you mean Icarus? Yeah sure I'll pitch in after my session this morning. Good luck though." Bam laughed at the latter's predicament before ending the call.

The brunette found himself sitting in front of a therapist. He tapped his cold fingers against his own hand, unconsciously caressing the scars in his hands.

"So where did you get those scars, Bam?" The brunette jolted in surprise at the sudden question.

"I accidentally broke a vase years ago and picked it up...huh...?" His eyebrows creases in confusion and conflict.

"What is it? You can tell me." The therapist stated in which Bam just nodded.

Perhaps this is the first time someone asked where did he get the scars, considering even he didn't ask himself where and how did he get the marks that is decorating his palms that some even reached to his fingertips.

"There are no vases in my apartment...I just blurted it out without knowing."

"How long have you been doing thing like it's a habit?"