The Wolf's Diary | M.yg × P.jm

01

Yoongi puffed a breath and slumped against his seat. Arms crossed against his chest in resentment. He doesn't know how long they've been driving through this painful tedious road. It's been hours and he can't seem to find the thick wall at the end of this eternal line.

"Why don't you listen to some music? Or play your games? I'm sure you got some cool music right there," said Mrs. Min who was sitting in the driver's seat, fingers curled tightly around the steering. She peered at the rearview mirror to look at her sullen son who has a peevish look peeking through his wooden eyes.

"Don't you think I won't do that if my phone isn't dead?" Yoongi replied to his mother, sarcastically. His gaze burned and gleamed like the flaming wings of a butterfly that flap inside his dimmed crystal orbs.

Min Yoongi couldn't help to feel mad at his mother for making him leave his perfect life in Seoul. Canada sounds great-but not as great as the life he had back there where he was born—and his lovely friends. His lovely friends who'd always been there for him ever since he was just a naive child who doesn't know the left and right, and now... He had to leave them. Yoongi could feel the familiar pinch behind his eyes. And he knew he would miss them after a gray gloomy day of his worthless life in this agonizing boring town.

Yoongi doesn't want to move out of the country but her mother said that life in Canada is better than in Seoul, and here, they will be a complete 'perfect' family again. Together with his father.

His father, who did nothing but clean his gun. Wiping the maw until they are shining and no dust or imprint can be seen on its black polished skin. He loves his gun dearly (more than he loves his wife) that he never lets anyone touch it-not even a fly is allowed to land on its tiny feet above it. Yoongi remembered once when he was a little kid and got curious about the weapon. Hardly containing the desire to touch and feel the hard plastic against his fingers-he touched it and accidentally stained the plastic weapon with chocolate that he was eating five seconds ago. Yoongi remembered the angry face of his father and he was raving. Yoongi was so scared that he never dared to touch it again.

His father then later explained to him how precious it is and that it was given to him by his grandfather who was a hunter at birth, but sadly, he passed away before Yoongi could meet him. All he saw were his old pictures and it is kept in a small wooden box that his father had hidden in his mini workplace. As in the place where he keeps all his weapons for hunting, and plots out where to put the traps for their next hunting.

"Then you can take a nap if you want, and I'll just wake you up when we get there," Mrs. Min uttered. The boy ignored his mother's words.

Mrs. Min sighed audibly. "Yoongi, we've already talked about this, didn't we? I'm sure you're gonna love it here too. And besides, don't you miss your father?"

Yoongi for a fact missed his father so much. The best of his memory can recall—the last day they've been together was the day after his seventh birthday.

"Whatever," he mumbled under his breath but it wasn't so quiet, and Mrs. Min heard it. She smiled only in hopes he would realize how beautiful the surroundings are.

Yoongi looked out the window and gazed up at the sky. A thick white fog had lowered over the trees. Yoongi tried to peer through its blurry face searching for the golden ray of the sun but it was hiding somewhere behind the featureless grey blanket of low clouds. It was silent and dreary. Yoongi thought there was nothing to love in this lonely place. Nothing shiny or colorful. Not even a wee spark.

Suddenly, a sparkly tiny dot fell from the clouds and twirled in the wind ever so lightly. Yoongi saw that it was starting to snow, and without him noticing, a toothless smile had stretched his heavy cheeks and his eyes began to flutter. The chilly wind blew past through the slight crack of the window and fanned against his pallid face. Yoongi drifted off to sleep.