Go Go: Ch 24

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After a few seconds your mouth mirrors the response of your mind, spluttering out, "the what?"

Their smiles fall slightly, their brows creasing with confusion. "You didn't apply for a scholarship?" Asks your dad.

"Not that I know off," you respond, digging through the cobwebed archives of your hippocampus.  Unable to find anything of relevance you stop, instead asking, "so? Scholarship?"

"Yes honey. Some very handsome and kind men came to inform us of it," you mother says gaining a pout from your father. Sure they were handsome but she didn't have to admit that when he was handsome too.

Before you asked, and before your mother could continue, he steared the conversation away from their looks, "they were very professional. Very prepared and polite. Oh and guess what," he paused looking into your eyes before continuing, having no actual intent for you to guess, "they are from Bacchantes. You are elegebal for a scholarship from such a great company. Isn't that wonderful?"

His smile was consuming his face.

You were not feeling such happiness, more of a weary feeling was fluttering in your chest, "ah yes," you said unsure. "But, uh, how do we know this is such a great thing? I mean I know that scholorships are good and it would be a great benifit to us, but like, why are you acting like this is the cream of all scholorships?"

"Oh well, that is because it just covers everything. Your food, rent, bills, clothes, all your needs, and even gives you an allowance," your mother says and though you should be feeling estatic, even more nerves are clustering inside your stomach. 'This deal is to good. I don't deserve it. Why me?' You think to yourself.

But before you can spiral, your dad continues, "yeah they pay for everything. All you gotta do is study and," he breaks unsure how to put it to you, "follow all their conditions," he finishs, backing out of it.

You eye the pair doubtfully, "conditions? What kind of conditions?" You say, glaring into the eyes of your panicked father as you finish.

"Yes, about that," your mother draws your preditorial eyes away from your dad, saving the poor man, and on to her. "You see. The condition of this scholorship, of this great opportunity, is that you complete your studies in Korea," she deals out her card slowly.

But no matter how slow her card was delt, you were not prepared for it. The joker catching you off guard and laughing, mocking you. You panic, unable to formulate a response, of a coherent kind anyway. You bounce up and walk away. The sway of your arms and legs mechanical as you move. So in time. So creaky. It was as if you were a wind up toy soldier, broken slightly in the wars and still the effect could be seen in your bent stance. A broken soldier that was dead set on exciting the conflict of your mind that this conversation was building. But no matter how far you walk from that room, the battle, the bombardments of thoughts, follow you. All the way up the endless winding stairs, down the endless dark corridor, into the endless constriction of your room.

You sat, knees bent, spine stiff, upon the side of your bed. You glanced out off the window, thoughts leading you far. Far from sanity that is, as all they did was spin you in circles. So fast was the ride that your breath was strickend from you. Yourself left in a sorry state as you now curled into yourself.

Sideways now, you still glance out into the empty night. You hug that blue dog to your chest, squeasing it and yourself hard to suffocate the suffocation. How could you move to Korea, a different country. So far away from your family. From everything you knew. You weren't strong enough to do that. Let alone the strength, you were not even deserving of such an experience. Just as you though this, a harsh pang of pain, of hot, burning pain, singes the front of your neck. And your back. And you choke out a muffled screem. A plea for help from anyone who could stop the torment. The constent pain that coursed through you, as if it now replaced your blood. A pain and disoray that had circulated through you since the first restless night a few days prior. You wanted it to end, but couldn't really do anything.

You wobble up onto your legs, staggering over to a chest of draws, and grab some pain killers, inhaling three. You swallow them dry. And then flomp down onto the floor, still holding the toy for comfort. You sit in a daze, staring mindlessly at the wood. You contemplate your pain, your worries. Korea, the scholarship. And as soon as you think that perhapes you should just go, take the opportunity and go, the pain lessend. And as it lessens you think more and more that you should go. And as you think more and more that you should go, the pain lessens more and more, untill you have coherent thought.

The euphoric lack of pain leads you to stand. To turn and walk. To walk out the door and down the hall. Down the flight of stairs and to the lounge. And through the doors to face your parents. They look up worried, tear stains down your cheeks and red colouring the whites of your eyes. "I will do it," you say, "I will go to Korea".

They smile proudly and beckon you over. You sit between them and you all hug. Your dad runs his hand over your back in soothing circles. Your mother runs hers through your hair, softly. This was a soft moment. A gentle and peaceful one.

Your parents explain details, pointing out information on the papers that had been circled as important by Mr Kim. Dates, places, those kinds of things. And you nod along as they spoke. Lost in their voices.

Eventually you got to the point of signing. Taking up a pen and signing both piles. Your mother doing the same.

And then it was late and you all went to bed.

The next days were chaotic but plain. Your parents and you were all good at organisation, so once all the paperwork needed for the transferal of courses across universities was finished, the contract mailed off, you were all set. You just needed to deal with small things. Things like what you could take with your limited amount of luggage.

That and the fact that you also needed to break the news to (y/b/f). You were sure that she would be estatic, yet at the same time disappointed. You imagine that the weight  of her heavier negative emotion would excessively out way the first, and you were not looking forward to being crushed. So you put it off. You still had plenty of time to tell her, as you would be transferring during university break. Actually it wasn't that long. You were already in the uni break and had been for over a week now. So you only had two weeks left. Considering this, you plucked up your courage, and decided to tell her tommorow. Tommorow is a good day.

***

A/N
Last of the three today.
Have a good day y'all 🎩🎩🎩💜🖤💜🖤

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