It Ends with Us • Kim Mingyu

[three]

Sky falls above my head. Clouds as white as driven snow, so sanguine; now dissolving with the surface that's quivering frenziedly beneath my feet.

I try to take a trudge to the memory lane, I try to convince myself to not to hear what he said, block it out somehow. I try not to register it, although it's already promoting a hurrican inside me.

Blood; I remember seeing so much.

On the ground, on my clothes, on my hands, on Mingyu's hands.

On her clothes, her hands.

But, they were all mine.

They had to be mine, because she was smiling so beautifully.

The white corners of her eyes were red-rimmed. Wet mascara was dribbling down her rosy cheeks, and her hands were still clutching onto mine. It was only for a brief moment, but I still remember how it felt -- as if we had been separating almost entirely from each other, and she was holding me as a last moment of connection before we break apart completely.

It was only for a brief moment, but I still remember seeing my reflection in those hues of her brown orbs, so little; pained and shattered faith stifling me.

She must've seen hers in mine too, because she looked like an artwork.

Artworks can't take away their lives; no matter how bad and gruesome. They're the living attestation of the world's culpabilites, and my God, she has survived so much torment and unjustness. It'd be a tragedy if she doesn't live to embrace the peace that has finally opened it's arms for her.

"It can't be. . . no, she's. . ."

Mingyu cups my face. "Hey hey, look at me," he whispers. "It's not what you think it is, calm down."

"W-what? Why -- what happened to her? Tell me. . ."

He sucks in a breath, long and deep. Then slowly says, "When she shot you . . . the bullet went through her too . . . because, you know, you two were hugging and she shot you from the back . . ."

My heart takes a leap to my throat. "She's alive?"

"She is, and in fact, she is admitted here. In this hospital. She suffered less damage than you, but still she was in a bad shape. She's recovering, just like you."

"Thank God." I let my body fall on his shoulder as I feel my lungs function again, exhaling in relief. 

He runs his fingers through my hair, occasionally patting the top of my head. "She's in good care, she'll be fine. Don't worry." He assures.

I inch away to meet his gaze. "What's her room number? What's the floor?" I ask. "I'll go see her."

His eyes widen, like I've asked the worst thing possible. "NO WAY, absolutely no way." Exclaims he.

"But why?"

"You can't, Miyeon. She's under strict observation by the doctors. . . and the police."

"Police . . ." My voice fades into silence, as I further absorb his statement. Of course, the police. What else did I expect.

"She attempted to murder you. It's only valid if she's behind the bars. She's dangerous, Miyeon."

"Didn't you hear her, Mingyu? She didn't want to be like this," I protest weakly, as it'd be any good to actually change his mind.

"It's not her fault."

He shakes his head. "I don't care. She tried to kill you. She almost killed you!"