oblivion ; minsung

"so he did"

Minho is sitting in the car outside Jisung's house. It's dark and dead quiet in the sleeping neighbourhood. He feels like a murderer. Like a bad person here to do a bad thing. Will anyone remember him, the stranger in the night, when they hear that Mrs. Han has passed away?

"I'll do it," he said on the phone the night before. Like it would be as simple as pulling a plug out of the wall.

He imagines Jisung at the hospital, holding Hara in his arms. Healing her. Absolving her of Death, like the god he is. Death is a god as well. Won't Death ever be vindicated in the eyes of the masses? Will its miracles always be seen as tragedies?

He slumps forward, fists in his hair. Death is too close to the surface. Half his thoughts aren't his own. His mind feels trampled and controlled and violated.

Only one light is on inside Jisung's house — still it seems bright, glowing. He never thought a place so filled with Life could be oppressive, suffocating the way his is.

Still, it's beautiful, he thinks. Lawn painted white with wild daisies; grass slowly breaking through the concrete driveway; floral curtains in the windows. He walks quickly through the light rain up to the front stoop, but his hand stalls, knuckles against the door. He takes stock. This is going to hurt. This is going to be hard. This is going to be kind.

Jisung opens the door before Minho can knock. Neither can meet the other's eyes. They're looking at each other's shoes.

Jisung's voice comes on a breath. Minho can barely hear him. "She's in her room."

Minho is torn between asking if he's alright and assuming he isn't. Maybe he should just get in and get out. Like a fucking serial killer.

"Jisung—" he starts.

"Don't let it be painful. Don't— just don't scare her. Please."

"I'll... try."

Jisung moves to the side. Minho steps over the threshold. His ears pop when Jisung closes the door. The house is dark except for the light in Nini's bedroom.

Minho walks toward it. Jisung doesn't.

"Aren't you...?" Minho says.

"I can't—" Jisung's voice cuts out. Minho looks up at him, just for a second. He looks broken. Tired and weary and weak. "I can't..."

"Okay. That's okay." Minho won't make this harder for him. He can only imagine caring about someone the way Jisung cares for his grandmother. His mother has never been particularly maternal. He used to tell his nannies he loved them, though he never missed them once they left.

He steps into Nini's room and gently closes the door behind himself.

"Hello, dear."

She's lying back in her bed, propped up on a pillow. She looks withered, cheeks hollowed and eyes glazed by cataracts. Her smile is warm. She waves him closer.

He sits on the edge of the bed. The Life in this room is so concentrated. The air feels too thin, void of oxygen.

Nini frowns at him. "You look troubled."

"You remember what we're... what I'm here for? Right?"

"Well yes, I don't have dementia." She speaks with a slur. "Please, don't be upset on my account. I know I'm asking a lot of you, and you have so much on your plate already."

"How could I not be upset? I don't want to... be someone who takes life away. Especially yours. It feels so wrong."

A sigh slips through her lips. "You will understand someday. Both of you will."