Storyteller | JHS ✓

Chapter thirty; Eine Kleine

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ι ωαηт αℓℓ му ƒєєℓιηgѕ
¢σηνєує∂ тσ уσυ
вυт ι нανє ѕє¢яєтѕ тнαт ι ¢αη тєℓℓ ησ σηє,
αη∂ ι єη∂ υρ тєℓℓιηg ℓιєѕ

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Any words that would've passed through our vocal cords were communicated with our eyes instead. Maybe it was because both of us were afraid the other was a mirage that the mere vibration of sound could shatter it.

And, though unsuitable for the situation, I started thinking of all the kids who went to the schools I went to and ate alone during lunch, played alone during recess, and walked home alone, having their shadow as their only friend. It's been years since I've last seen them, and I wondered if they've found a friend yet. If they have during the past seven years, are they still friends? Did they have a friend who wiped away their tears and repaired their wings while also telling them not to fly too close to the sun?

Did that friend become something more?

And if they did, did they have them get ripped away from them?

"Minami...don't look at me..." Hoseok attempted to cover his face with his arms, only to discover they were semi-translucent.

And then, I thought, after the universe tore them away, did they remain lonely? Afraid to befriend another person to ensue another heartbreak when they leave? Willingly or not?

"Hoseok..."

"...Minami..."

Fighting back tears, I managed a small smile.

"...Tell me a story..."

"Wha--Minami?"

I lowered my head, fists clenching by my sides, "Please...tell me your story..."

The tips of his fingers were almost invisible now.

"But...it'll make this feel like a goodbye..." He said, hair falling into his eyes.

"But it won't be! You said you'd tell yours once everyone else's were told! Our agreement never stated that it would be the last story you would tell!"

Another phrase lingered at the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. Then, Hoseok spoke it.

"Only, we both know it will be, won't it?"

No words could've been said to alleviate the grief coursing through the air after that. And so, no other words of alleviation were exchanged.

"Alright," he said, sitting down, "you've waited long enough...Let's make the finale strong, shall we?"

I could only let tears fall at that.

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He started off how he would usually begin a story, setting the stage and exposition, waiting for the imagination to take over for the listeners.

"Once...there was a boy...who wanted to be loved by millions..." the words left unhurriedly despite knowing we only had a couple hours left as the clock read 1:24am.

"His dream was wanting to become a dancer, or a singer, maybe even an idol...He practiced for hours, days at a time, making his poor mother work multiple part-time jobs to support it. His father never batted an eye at his dream. In fact...the boy's father frequently beat his mother for it..."