FALLING SLOWLY ||Complete||

Et tu brute

He wipes a hand over his face, pressing the pads of his fingers to his eyes. His hands shake, his heart is stuck in his throat and then is dropping to the bottom of his stomach. Jung does not waste time to think over his actions - the mighty crash still echoes in his ears.

He stumbles out of the hastily parked car, in a back ally leading to his mother’s high end office building and creeps out.

As a child he had played in this area, still as a grown up man, he knew exactly which corners to avoid when he wanted to be discreet. He takes the stairs and is having by the time he reaches her floor.

Secretary Han’s eyes are wide as saucers, but the good woman keeps the scream to herself, clasping a hand over her little mouth.

“Omma?” He rasps, “Is she inside?”

She nods like a puppet, her eyes darting towards the closed door to her office room.
The marriage of his parents is failing, as an attempt to save its last tatters they avoid each other like masters of some endless dance. His mother works long hours - longer each day. This is the first time he is glad to find her still in her office at midnight.
He tries not to look at the refection he makes on the polished wood of the door. But a glimpse is enough to rattle his core.

He pushes the hideous image away from him, in the attempt barging inside the office.
His mother is buried in paper work, wearing her glasses and tapping the end of her chin with a limited edition carved pen. But the second she looks up, she lets it drop and crack on the floor - red ink spilling like blood over the polished wood.

“Jung - ah!”

His knees buckle and he drops to the floor, kneeling at his only altar. She reaches him in a flash, worried hands cupping his face. It takes some effort from her to make him look at her and the guilt in his eyes makes her stop short.

“Who did this to you?” There are embers in her voice, ready to avenge each bruise on his skin. Jung shakes his head.

“I did it -”

“Jung - ah”

“Omma -” he pants, not that the moment is here the confession is a knot in his throat. He could swallow it easier than spilling it out.

“Save me Omma!”

“Why - why sweetheart? From whom?”

He shakes his head again, and his shaking hands go around her waist as he presses himself to the warmth of his mother’s embrace. She holds him, fingers stroking his sweat matted hair. Dry sobs wrack his shoulders and Jung heaves a sigh.

“I was going home -” his tone is muffled against her. “And I - I didn’t see until I was too close. He came out of nowhere - he was going fast.” He bites his lip. “I was going fast too!”

“Jung - ah,” his mother sounds a little bothered. “Did you hit someone?”

“So hyung!” He rasps in the end. “I hit So hyung!”

**
The boy cannot die… the thought shifts in her mind, repeating itself. She had to see it with her own eyes. Stop him before he gives any statement to anyone. Before the cops turn up pulling CCTvs from intersections. She has to act quick and shield Jung before another son is taken away from her.

What she doesn’t expect is the girl curled up on the white tiled floor. There is a dried stain of blood across her cheek, blotches that taint her hands and run up to her elbows. Her clothes are soaked with blood and her eyes are empty. She rests her cheek against the cold glass that separates the emergency care unit, from the waiting area. There are some other people who makes no attempt to pull her up, instead circling her protectively, keeping their distance.