𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄 ✓

09: UNSEE, A DREAMER'S REALITY

A/N: This part is in Kwan's POV. He shall be finally waking up only to unsee.

...

Envy, the slow-paced evil that crept in when it espied and glared at happiness, and then took a volitional foul delight in tarnishing it?

In the jumbled, pulverised remembrances I carry from my childhood, there are probably nearly as many dreams as portrayals from waking life. I thought of one which might have been my earliest remembered nightmare. I was most likely about four years old – I don't think I'd started school yet – when I woke up shrieking. 

In my dream, I found myself in a dark, eerie room filled with old toys and dusty furniture. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, and a sense of foreboding hung heavy in the atmosphere. As I looked around, my eyes fell upon a doll unlike any I had seen before.

The doll was small, with porcelain skin and glassy, unblinking eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Its lips were painted a deep crimson, twisted into a malevolent grin that sent shivers down my spine. But what truly set this doll apart was its elongated nose, sharp and pointed, like a needle ready to pierce the skin.

I tried to turn away, to run from the doll's piercing gaze, but my feet felt rooted to the spot. I watched in horror as the doll's mouth unhinged, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth glistening in the dim light. It spoke to me in a voice that sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard, promising to devour my nose.

With a sudden lunge, the doll pounced towards me, its jaws snapping shut just inches from my face. I could feel its putrid breath on my skin, could see drool dripping from its fangs. I screamed, a sound that echoed through the empty room, but no one came to my rescue.

I closed my eyes, hoping it was all just a nightmare, but when I opened them again, the doll was still there, its menacing grin frozen in place. I knew then that I had to fight back, to confront my fear head-on.

Summoning all the courage I had, I reached out and grabbed the doll by its slender neck, squeezing with all my might. The doll screeched, a sound that made my blood run cold, but I did not relent. With one final twist, the doll's head came off in my hands, its nose shattering into a thousand pieces.

When I told my mother about the dream, she was puzzled.

'But what's scary about that? You were never scared of that doll.'

I shook my head, meaning that the doll I'd owned and scarcely remembered had never scared me. 'But it was very scary,' I said, meaning that the reappearance of it in my dream had been terrifying.

My mother looked at me, perplexed. 'But it's not scary,' she said gently. I'm sure she was striving to make me feel better and thought this plausible testimony would help. She was absolutely amazed when it had the opposite result, and I burst into tears.

Of course, she had no idea why, and of course, I couldn't explain. Now I think and for sure I could be wrong that what upset me was that I'd just realised that my mother and I were separate people. We didn't share the same dreams or nightmares. I was alone in the macrocosm, like everybody else. In some confused way, that was what the doll had been telling me. Once it loved me enough to let me eat its nose; now it would make me wake up screaming.

Now, as I peer at her raw skin, my heart scorches at the impending doom plopping inside its trinkets. The skin on skin, gripes and grouses, uncharted moans sinking beneath my existence.

For any other human, it shall be a celebration of love among a married au pair, perished in love and romance, but my eyes bled. She was all mine, wasn't she? 
Kwan and Sung-hee?

I set out to search for her face for no reason that my heart believed, and nothing caught my eyes. The temporal lobe of my brain groaned visibly at the sketch. It endeavoured to ink down the curves and match them with the one I had known because I was certain that she belonged to my core existence.

My brain tried and tried and passed me the face. I do know her, but the name?

My eyes grated at the bewildering emotions raging through my veins. The hoods flickered once, then twice, then thrice, and the sheet of her face seemed to blur bit by bit.

I shook my head and forced my heart now. Maybe it had more effect. But who was I fooling?

That detained stone had no value. I knocked on its door once, twice, thrice... I kept plummeting against it hard, but it didn't help.

I hit it hard this time, in a rage. For if all the hearts work, then why not mine?

And it cracked.

I didn't know the demons that walked across your memory. They came from the dust when you were at peace in your grave.

Oh!

Mine is broken, and they owe a porcelain shrine?

I have to confess, I am green with envy. Every second you dedicate to him, every worried look you give him, every tear shed, every glance, touch, and thought - it all makes me want to tear him apart limb by limb and erase him from your mind and heart.
Alas, it's just not in the cards for me.

I think that a lot of the times, people are generous towards those whom they pity, but only find fault in those whom they see as better than themselves. There is a fake kind of goodness, and that is the goodness that is only good towards other people that make the givers feel better about themselves.

Do you kiss up to those you see as superior? Or is your virtue reserved only for those who stroke your ego? Too many fabulous folks out there endure endless hardships, simply because there are haters ready to dim their shine! True goodness isn't about being nice or humane; it's about having empathy. Empathy sees beyond appearances. It's simple to be kind to those you pity, but way tougher to be good to those you secretly envy!He has her, he has the world I lost, the touch, the ecstasy, and I have nothing, nothing.

I'd been smitten with her for ages. Yet, somehow, I didn't really know her at all. She remained a phantom, a mere figment of my fickle imagination, while I foolishly stitched countless stars into her forever.

But all I got in exchange was pure darkness!

For a moment, I almost envied the clouds. Why gaze at the moon for solace when I was right there beneath the shadowy haze?

After digging deep into my heart and embracing my brutal honesty, I summon the last iota of bravery within me. With each step, I distance myself from the tangled mess of emotions swirling within me. I dare not even glance at my own reflection, for fear of what I might see staring back at me.

It's all a fantasy-clad destiny they have, and now when I have reached the end of nowhere, I understand every forever ends at some steep fall.

Forever is a myth, or maybe a twisted truth in its world. My body feels drained out, my head spins, and my eyes stare into the dark nowhere. It's dark, darker than my feelings, and I see me, I see Hyon, and there's Jeong. Wait, there's Jin and Chim, and there's me, a happy me.

I want to be there. I intend to be that Kwan again and this thirst is too divine, too addicting and I step ahead until I fall deep into the pit.

"Hyon!"

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I focus on emotions more, right?
♡