When you live questioning if you can get by the next day, doesn't it make you hopeless? Leaving you constrained with all your choices because, in your truth, these are the only opportunities you have for yourself. They can be counted all in your han...
Most confessions in hospital beds were on sins. The last thread of life was threatening to let go, and so spills all their imperfections and immoralities to a priest. But here's the story, Dae is an atheist and he isn't on his death bed. Although, he did have a lot of pent-up regrets and apologies to say, now wasn't his time to declare them to any person with any blessedness.
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Yoongi rarely left his side. There was always warmth to Dae's hand, a limb dangling on the ledge of will. In the evenings, his space was always limited because he held the ice prince to his chest. Ears always listening to a symphony, whether it be Yoongi's ongoing projects or his affirmations that retracted all his guilt for a little while at least. Enough to keep him at bay and avoid spiraling to the sea of depression. And for the two weeks he stayed in the walls of a monitored room, Yoongi made life seem exciting more than it has been when he breathed in anxiety.
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The screams never disturbed him, he himself was viscous with words plus he heard murder on the streets before, so arguments bared nothing to him. Yes, sometimes there was a twinge of dislike and occasionally hate in each other's words. It made people uncomfortable, like bile reaching up to their chests yet they never know the reason why. To others, it retreated traumas kept hidden under the rug as if the unsolved problem was banging on their door. He knew all these well and accepted this as the cost of living.
The worst arguments he witnessed were the silent ones. It is when the forces of two sides meet in the middle, and burn each other. Until someone just decides to let the other person commit arson on their very soul. These were rare because these two opposing forces needed love to be present to get gasoline. But to Dae's life, these were the earlies storms he saw, with his parents specifically. It never registered to him because they loved playing happy family.
His father, the teacher, always understanding of his mother's tantrums and gluttony. At times, he was also too forgiving to Dae who started developing a sense for harsh words because the father took the blame on him and his wife for letting Dae hear this cruelty.
Dae himself, a child stubborn and unrelenting to leave even when smoke erupted in tense situations. He'd sit down, hear and remember all these words then list them as if they were bullets he could use at his disposal. He never quite learned to pick the choice of self-preservation.
His mother though was the witch of self-preservation. She was happy when she was with money. She loved her husband if he bought her everything she wanted. Her child was a trophy if "it" behaved and gave her the ins to rich opportunities. So when things turned south, she bought the quickest train ticket to get herself a new life. A life where she can swim in gold.
When the family argued, it was always his father taking the brunt of cigarette burns. His mother with her lighter. And him with his wind, making it a bigger problem and burning everything else beside him.
