Inhuman | ✓

xlvi - memories

𝙹 𝚄 𝙽 𝙶 𝙺 𝙾 𝙾 𝙺

THERE ARE DREAMS THAT WE DREAM of which we see as too lucid for us to think that it is true, only for us to wake up from it and realize it was all created by means of our unconscious mind. Dreams are mostly weaved by memories that come and go inside our brain—whether they appear to us as an omen or not, we cannot deny the fact that it gives us a feeling of wanting to decipher the meaning behind it. I have had too many dreams—some of which I wasn't sure were real.

This was one of them, and yet it feels like I'm so alive; I feel everything around me so vivid, looking down at myself to see that I am inside my young body despite my mind fully aware of what is happening. I have never been here—I have never been in Seoul which confused me as soon as I see that we are passing through a bridge over a vast stretch of afternoon waters.

I sat at the backseat, my mother in front of the car as we pass through Han River. The one driving is a man of whom I could not recognize for I still haven't seen his face. I was half-listening to what they were saying although I can make out that they were gleefully talking of some plans for it was my ninth birthday. My birthday—it is on September 1st, but I knew I did not celebrate my ninth anywhere beyond Busan. It was all so dull, I swear I even caught a glimpse of the setting sun flicker like a dying bulb for a moment, but my attention was then diverted towards the man driving.

"Are you excited, Jungkook-ah?" The man turns his head behind with a grin etched on his face.

I could not bring myself to calm down; what is he doing here? His obsidian, almond shaped eyes, and face drastically youthful, void of the aura I saw in the Doctor's eyes—I couldn't avoid my eyes widening in fright as I lean my back against the seat.

His brows furrow slightly. "Son, are you okay?"

My breathing narrows, as I flick my eyes towards Mother, who turns to glance at us. She grimaces in concern while reaching her hand out to me. "What's wrong, Kook?"

Why did he call me son? Either way I shake my head, doing the safest thing.

They nod reluctantly, my mother still eyeing me in worry before turning to the man. "Sangmin, I'm worried about our debts. . ." Mother sighs in a whisper. "What if we mortgage the lot for a while?"

Mother called him Sangmin. And the way she said his name sounds too sincere, like they are lovers or something. I look away anxiously; how could this man and the Doctor be the same person?

"Now's not the time, love," Sangmin says intently. "It's Jungkook's birthday today. We shouldn't let him know about it."

"I know. . . But at least let me get a job so—"

"Isseun," his voice sharpens, "we talked about this."

Mother goes silent, looking out the window. I catch her eyes half-lidded through the side mirror, my eyes then darting towards Sangmin through the front mirror. Our eyes lock at the moment that sends me an unknowing feeling of hatred and yet, why do I also feel an amount of sympathy for him? What's wrong with me?

"JUNGKOOK, NO!!!"

It was Mother's scream. I'm sure it was her but then her voice fades out when a blinding light flashes through my window as I look at it with wide eyes, mixed with a blaring horn until everything comes in pitch black.

I was breathing hard in the darkness. A moment later I hear a faint sound of someone sobbing—she is crying in despair and everything else fades in with the soft rain sprinkling down the grassy ground. My eyes open to see my mother crying as she kneels in front of a tomb, wherein more than a dozen people in somber, sable suits and dresses under umbrellas surrounded her, most of whom worn staged faces of empathy while some did not.