36 MINUTES TO FALL, jaemin ✓

24 | wish she cared more

❝ How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?❞

Yumi's mood darkened immediately. "I wish she cared more," she said bluntly. "I feel that it's a terrible relationship where she plays the victim card too much and makes me feel guiltier than I should."

"That was..."

"It was bluntly honest," she said, looking away. "It's the truth I've never dared to say to her face. She's not a bad person; she really isn't. I believe she has a kind heart and she's a fiercely protective mother in a lot ways—for instance, if you tried to hurt me, you best believe that she will not let you rest. She'll chase you to the ends of the earth until she makes you pay for hurting me."

"But?"

"But she doesn't care enough!" Yumi exploded. She stood up and began pacing the floor as if she were trying to work off the anger. "Why doesn't she see what's wrong with me? Why does she never see that I'm hurt or angry or anything? Why don't I get her help anymore? Why don't I matter anymore?"

Her voice had risen to a shout, and Jaemin leaped to his feet, trying to shush her, but by then, she had already burst into tears and was sobbing heavily, hiding her face in her hands. She didn't know why she had broken down like that; but she had, and it was like a dam had been broken, her bottled-up emotions, her anguish, fury and hurt flooding out like a powerful river.

She didn't look up when she felt Jaemin hug her close, his hands patting her back with gentleness, whispering words of comfort. Instead, she threw her arms around him and kept crying, for once not trying to stop her tears. She cried and cried so hard that her body shook and her throat felt like fire; but she couldn't stop. She couldn't have stopped it if she had tried. She clung to Jaemin like he was her last lifeline, and he held her nearly as tightly, just enough not to hurt her or restrict her breathing.

When she finally stopped, she drew in several, deep, shuddering breaths, and her sinuses felt like they had been clogged up completely, but she felt better. She didn't feel like she was as weighed down or wound up anymore. Oh, yes, she did feel those things; but it was lighter, and that was something, wasn't it?

"Thank you," she said in a nasal, quiet voice.

"You needed that cry," Jaemin said quietly. "Come on, let's get some water."

He held her steady as they walked further into the dimly-lit school, finding the water cooler by the back corridors. Jaemin went scrounging into the storage room the art club used down the hall while Yumi leaned against the cooler, working on regulating her breathing, wiping away the tears from her eyes, and fixing her hair.

It was then that she caught sight of the hair tie still around her wrist and used it to pull her hair back into a ponytail. She'd just done it when Jaemin came back, a stack of paper cups in plastic wrapping in his hand. "I knew we had this," he said. "That's why I was telling you to drink some water."

She accepted the cup he handed her and turned to the cooler silently, unwilling to speak until her throat was cleared. Filling it with water, she drank deeply, at least three cups. Then she placed it atop the cooler and turned back to him. "What's your answer?"

"Right now?" he frowned. "Yumi, maybe we should stop this. It's getting late. Isn't the curfew your parents set ten? It's almost nine-thirty. We should head home now."

"I want to finish this," she shook her head. "Let's do this on the way home. I'll call you when I'm through with my parents questioning why I came close to the curfew. I have your number."

"If you're sure you're okay..."

"I will be."

"In that case, my answer is that it's complicated," Jaemin gave up when he saw that she was dead set on getting it over with. They began walking back to the mural, to pick up Jaemin's phone—it was still on the ground—and Yumi's paintbrushes. He took one of the cups with him to place the brushes in. "You know how she treats me, but at the same time, it doesn't mean she doesn't love me any less than she did ten years ago."

"I can understand that," Yumi said quietly. "That's...well, what's the next question?"

Jaemin eyed her worriedly, but he keyed in his passcode as Yumi retrieved the brushes, closed the lids of the cans, and put them in the cup he handed her. While Jaemin read the list to look for the right one, she pushed the cans to one side and joined him.

"This is easy enough—I think," he said. "It's set number three, the last, by the way."

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WORD COUNT: 834