(hi tysm for readin', do tap the little star if you would be ever so kind :D)
[A BRIEF WARNING]
[This chapter discusses elements of blood, mild violence, and mental disorders. If any of these topics trigger you, please refrain from reading further. Thank you.]
My father hated autumn because he couldn't see what was under it.
Which meant the leaves.
We were walking along the stone pathways littered with browned leaves, honey branches, rucked up grass, bikers going to and fro, little children grabbing at their parents, the distant sounds of little league practice around us. Our house was right adjacent to Rinley View Park, with soft hills and a baseball field and a playground I was convinced from the get-go was haunted.
My mother would occasionally have picnics with her church friends there, higher on the hills below great oaks and sycamores. Oftentimes, my father proved too busy to entertain the same activities, but every now and then, he would indulge one or both of us and tag along to watch me run around with a kite as my umma cheered.
I was a horrible kite-flyer, mind you. But for the sake of my depleting dignity, let's say it was a wonderful sight to watch.
One day, while my mother was laying out the blanket and placing lunchboxes of various foods out before us, her knit sweater and butterfly sunglasses making her a perfect picture of autumn afternoon, he took me towards the highest hill behind the playground. The view was always best there, overlooking the entirety of Amasero Drive and every neighboring street, but without any railings or benches or even basic warning signs, it was precarious to walk.
Still, my father trusted my judgment so readily then, and we walked.
"How's school, Seohyun?" he asked.
I kicked a few leaves, hearing the sweet crunch as I did so. "It's good. Why?"
"Just curious."
"How's work?"
He gave a small grin. "Work is good."
"Umma said you were having trouble with someone."
"Ah, the directors," he muttered. "My work is good. Theirs is not."
"What do they do?"
"Think they know everything," he scoffed. He sent a firm look my way. "Don't grow up like that, Seohyun. You'll make yourself look stupid."
"Like what?"
"Thinking you know what you don't." He patted my head. "I know you're very smart, but don't get cocky, okay? You end up like them. All talk, no brain. Bad combination."
"Never," I promised. "I'll end up like you." Although my father could be his own kind of cocky, too.
"Ah, geurae? Like me?"
"Umma says I won't be as tall."
"Umma says that because she's short."
"I'm gonna tell her you said that."
"Ya, be nice to your appa."
YOU ARE READING
Suicide Buddies
Teen Fiction"My mother once told me there are three, and only three, truly defining moments in your life. One: When you don't know. Two: When you realize you don't know. Three: When you know. This is about the third one." --- Angel Young is going to die. Or at...
