Dangers of a Saint || Ryeji

44

The concept of time was funny.

Yeji was once a child and with her younger sister, they liked sitting on the floor of their treehouse their father built for them. Despite only being furnished by oak wood and decent nails, their treehouse served as a time machine. However, instead of visiting the past or traveling towards the future, it was a place where either time stood still or it raced against the clock.

Yeji could remember spending a bright summer afternoon in their treehouse, cooking leaves and stones with Chaeryeong, serving them on plates made of plastic and miniature utensils that were the perfect size for their tiny hands. Later on, Chaeryeong brought their stuffed toys along to share the meal with them. It was a simple gathering and completely conjured up by the imaginations of children yet Yeji could vividly remember how it happened, how they sat for hours playing, how she could taste the happiness in her own mouth as she realized that nothing could make her feel otherwise as long as they were in the treehouse. Every day they came home from school, she would instantly run up towards the hickory tree their mother refused to get cut down in their backyard. She didn't have to say anything and Chaeryeong would be following suit as soon as they got home.

Sometimes, the treehouse served a different purpose. Just like any other parent, theirs disagreed with each other and ended up in a fight. Their yelling and arguments would bounce off the walls of their house and reach their rooms, enough to leave traumatizing memories for the both of them. As the eldest, Yeji felt responsible to hide the ugly truth of their family from her little sister and would invite Chaeryeong to play with her in the treehouse. Luckily, Chaeryeong was young enough not to question her sudden intentions. For hours, they would stay there until Yeji was certain that their parents were no longer at each other's throats. For hours, nothing seemed wrong.

Time didn't exist in the treehouse. As long as they were there, everything else was fine. They were happy. Chaeryeong was safe.

So Yeji couldn't bring herself to blame her younger sister when she became protective over her because at some point, she knew exactly what it felt like. Although nobody really told her, she had her suspicions that Chaeryeong influenced Ryujin's choice to go and as much as it didn't feel right to her, it didn't seem like such a bad thing either. Ryujin finally chose to get better with professional help and if the billionaire's peace of mind would cost their relationship, Yeji didn't see it as an expensive price to pay.

Nevertheless, Yeji wished they had the treehouse again.

She couldn't tell if it was due to the change of season or her longing heart that painted the night darker. Days after days didn't end without the cat-eyed woman crying herself to sleep. She wanted to reassure herself, to believe that it wouldn't take long before she could have Ryujin in her arms again, but every passing hour disappointed her. December's freezing air bit her skin, fogged up her windows, reminded her of every word the billionaire told her. It wasn't cold because of the snow and she knew why. It was a glacial weather that couldn't exactly be relieved by the warmth of a burning fireplace or solid hot packs. It required the comfort of Ryujin's smooth fingers weaving through hers, the light in her whisker dimples, the lullaby in her deep voice.

It was funny.

She didn't think it was possible for a treehouse to turn into a person.

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Ryujin hugged herself through her parka jacket, allowing her eyes to wander around the coffee shop. She tried not to think too much about the same kind of jacket she got for a particular cat-eyed woman as she acquired a serious liking towards the clothing, making it her favorite.

She couldn't tell how long it had been since she last talked to Yeji and although her therapist reassured her that it was okay to think about the architect every time her mind allowed her to enter her consciousness, Ryujin still got overwhelmed by the thoughts of her sometimes. Just like how it did at that very moment as she checked the time from her phone, grumbling to herself about Jinni's consistent tardiness. She just never changed.