Game On (markson/kaisoo/jikook)

20 Distopia

                           *Continuing the Flashback*
(6 years later)

"Jeonmyeon!" I called, irritated by the heat of the sun blaring through the windows of our new house.
"Yeah?" His sweet, childish voice called back.
"Where did you put your uniform? I need to iron it!"
"Dad said he'd give it to you!"
Ugh, trust Jongdae to make empty statements. He was probably happily sitting at work, chatting up his colleagues while I was stuck on house duty.
"Fine! Come downstairs anyway, I'm making lunch."
"But Papa, I'm arranging my room!"
"That can wait, first you need to eat!"

It had been a week since we had moved in. The move was mostly because of Jongdae's work, but we decided it would be good for Jeonmyeon to see the countryside as well.
The infant waddled down the stairs, taking each step slowly and carefully, just like I had taught him.
"Papa, my toy box is missing!" He exclaimed, running into my arms so that I could pick him up and enter the kitchen.
"Missing? It's probably still in the garage, I'll see if I can find it after lunch."
"Thank you."
"Your welcome, now help me cook!"
"But I'm so bad at it, why do you make me help?"
"Because there might be a day, when Dad and I won't be here to help you, and you'll have to look after yourself."
"Your leaving?"
"No, but sometimes bad things happen, and maybe one night I won't walk through those doors. I'll be gone."
"Gone where?"
"Heaven."
"What's heaven like."
"It's a place where good people go, where, when your a very old man, will fly to when it's time to rest."
"Will you come with me?"
"I'll be waiting for you most likely, but enough about that, what do you feel like eating?"
"Pasta!"
"Kay, go and get Papa the big pot." I requested, letting him down to retrieve the required utensil. The six year old knew exactly where everything was kept, making my life a bit easier.

*****

Dinner:
I watched Jeonmyeon eat as I did likewise. Jongdae was late home, apparently he had an unplanned meeting come up. I didn't mind so much these past six years, as I always had company, even if he was a lot of work. I looked at the clock upon our cream wall, it read half eight, Jeonmyeon's bedtime.

"Alright, gimme your plate and go on up to bed, I'll be up too see you in a minute."
"Kay!" He replied, running off and heading up the stairs, slowly. I quickly washed the dishes, rinsing them under the cool tap water. While putting the knife away I cut my finger, the crimson liquid pushing up and running down my thumb. I shoved it into my mouth, rummaging around for a plaster or something. The effort was fruitless. I would have to buy more soon.

Shaking my hand as if to shake away the pain, I went on upstairs, making my way to Jeonmyeon's room. I raked my non injured hand through my mousy brown hair, exhaling deeply after a long day.
I knocked on my son's door, opening it and peeping my head around. He was half dressed with his pyjama top stuck around his arms and head, covering his face.
"Need some help?" I offered, releasing a quiet chuckle.
"No, I can do it! I just...need...to..." he struggled and squirmed, pushing his arms through the wrong holes in the material.
"Tell me if you want help," I shrug, going over to sit on his blue duvet. His bed was low to the ground, and had extreme springs in the mattress.
"Kay, just one sec...."
His exposed stomach wriggled around with his incessant bending and pulling. His ribs were obvious but it was healthy at his young age.
"Jeonmyeon?"
"No, not yet."
"Jeonmyeon, maybe if I....."
"No, I can do it."
I laughed. Watching his tiny frame come close to success with dressing itself in the shirt. His head popped out the top and his arms snakes through the sleeves, though the whole thing seemed a little stretched. Oh well, he was a growing boy, it'll work in his favour eventually.

"See Papa! I did it! I told you I could," he smiled triumphantly, and ran over to cuddle me.
"Well done, now we just need to work on timing."
"Mmm. Oh, and when's Dad coming home?"
"Soon, he's just got another meeting, tying him to work."
"Again? He's always missing out on bedtime these days!"
"I know, but he's looking after us, after you."
"How?"
"All the hard work he does earns money, which pays for your pasta, toys, clothes," I added, picking at his now oversized pyjama top.
"Oh."
"Mmm, so that's why we have to make sure we give him a big kiss and a hug when he gets home."
"I love Dad."
"I know, and Dad loves you lots."
I kissed his forehead, laying him gently into his bed and shuffling towards the door. I blew him one last kiss before closing the door over, though leaving it slightly ajar to let the air circulate.

*****
An hour later, the door opened with a creak and the rattling of the keys being taken out followed. I got up from the comfortable couch I was lying on and silently made my way over to the front door, meeting my husband.
"Minseok? Is Jeonmyeon asleep?"
"And hello to you too. Of course he his." I rolled my eyes.
"Sorry, I was worried I woke him. How was your night? Lonely without me?" He asked, grabbing my waist and pulling me into a welcome kiss.
"Yeah, our little baby missed you. You have to come home earlier tomorrow, he'll be sad."
"I will, I will."

"Dad? Papa?" A sleepy voice croaked from the top of the staircase.
We turned to look at the infant calling out to us. "Jeonmyeon? Go back to bed."
Jongdae held my shoulder, shaking his head. Then he turned to our son. "Hey baby, sorry we woke you up."
Jeonmyeon's eyes lit up to see his father, and a smile crept onto his small lips. "Dad!" He hurriedly raced down the stairs, heeding no mind to the lessons I told him many times before.
I cried out, "Jeonmyeon! Slow down!"
He looked up momentarily, still speeding down the steps, only to trip up and come crashing down.

"Jeonmyeon!" Jongdae hissed, running to the small body sprawled across the bottom of the staircase.
"No! Oh my god!" I cried, I already felt tears burn my eyes.
We knelt down to the unmoving frame, he was face first on the wooden floor, warm blood spreading in a pool around him.
"J-J-Jongdae, y-you have to h-help him!"
My husband turned our son around, allowing us the gory view of his death painted face. His head was thrown back, like whiplash and his eyes like glass marbles, lifeless. He snapped his neck.
My fingers trembled vigorously as I laced them through his brown locks. The heated, red blood swamped around me, soaking my jeans and my supporting hand on the floor.
I shot a manic look at Jongdae. His face was dazed, listless, confused. It was as though he had finished watching a horror film with a shitty ending, not tying up any loose ends. He picked up our child, still staring off into nowhere, cradling him like a still doll.
"Minseok?"
"W-w-what?" I sobbed, biting my lower lip to stop any fits coming on.
"Call the police, they need t-to s-send-," he paused, giving into the crying and hot tears that had been bursting to come out.
"N-no, maybe the hospital can-,"
"He's dead! Minseok! Dead!"
I stood up abruptly, cursing and grabbing the nearest potted plant. I threw it against the wall, watching it crumble on the floor. This wasn't happening. This. Was. Not. Happening!

What happened after that was a blur. The police came with an ambulance. A death certificate for Kim Jeonmyeon was written. A funeral was soon arranged. It all felt faded though, like a badly shot video. A poor quality camera. We were down a family member, and I felt life wouldn't go on, causing me many behavioural issues that Jongdae had to help me side step.

Our scars ran deep, and the image of the sleepy boy at the top of the staircase was covered in blood. But what bit me in the ass was, our old house didn't have stairs.

Short chapter, but I assume none of you mind exploring Minseok a little further. I hope.
This was the end of the flashback so we should be back to normal next chapter :)
-keitorin