Work Of Art

16. Poppy Flowers

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The japchae left on the table had already gotten cold as I'm standing before a room with the door closed shut. Mrs. Kim walked outside minutes ago, to water her precious flowers but I know she was doing that only to get away and give Taehyung some much needed space.

What had him leave the table so abruptly was a question still waiting to be answered. But all I know is that Taehyung never even once mentioned his mother. Mrs. Kim, his grandmother had raised him, but from what age? When did he actually start living with his grandparents? I know that his father is away most of the days but where is his mother? 

I have so many questions to ask and they only keep piling up as I look at the photographs hung on the walls  – Taehyung with a graduation hat on, Taehyung with his puppy, Yeontan, Taehyung with his grandmother and grandfather. And that's it. It's like the family tree stops right there. No pictures of his mother or his father.

With my arms crossed, I lean my head on the door, hoping to hear something but I can't hear a thing. So I call out, knocking a few times, ''Taehyung?''

Nothing.

Not even the stomping of his feet, as if his whole existence suddenly disappeared.

Then I wait. A minute, or two, maybe even five. I'm not sure because I'm becoming restless, my limbs impatient. ''Can I come in?''

''You moron.''

What was that?

And I press my ear against the door carefully, this time hearing a voice. Taehyung's voice. He was talking to somebody, maybe on the phone. ''Taehyung? Are you alright?''

But he ignores me, and I can hear another voice, one that's different in both tone and dialect. ''She was talking about her again. It's all your fault. She's dead. She's dead because of you. No. I wanted to protect her. But you weren't there for her.''

My stomach twists in knots and plummets down a bottomless pit.

People. I can hear people inside. I don't know how many of them are there but I need to come in, I can't let them hurt him.

My thoughts run in sync with the newfound adrenaline within me, causing me to grab the knob tightly and turn it frantically, hoping that he hadn't locked them, that he'd left the door open. And when my whole being barges in, I choke on my own breath, looking at the sight in front of me.

He was sitting, casually, on top of his bed.

And I want to say something, I want to walk forward, but my feet stay glued and my mouth stapled shut.

Because he was all alone.

No people were inside, no other voices threatening him, but only Taehyung standing there still.

''T-Taehyung?'' I say somehow, stammering.

Then he stands up, his back facing the wall, his tired face in front of me. And he doesn't say anything. I can see that he's looking for an explanation in his mind. His eyes are going in circles but he knows that no matter what he says, what story he tells, it'll only awake a dozen questions more.

''I heard people inside,'' I mumble to myself, looking around and blinking. Have I gone mad? ''I could've sworn I heard voices, many of them. They were right here. Somebody was here, I'm sure of it.''

But the windows were closed, nobody could've gone outside and the only entrance was the open door behind me.

I become paranoid when I look under his made bed, only to find a speck or two of dust and a couple of magazines I don't bother to even touch.