포기한 태양 is a story that orbits around the remarkable lives of a man who hated living but loved life, a woman from the multiverse who was desperate to save him, and the science behind how they tried melting the snow beneath their feet.
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SCENEVII. HELIOCENTRIC THEORY the sun in the form of man.
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JUST LIKE that, everything about that night was sickening.
︎ ︎When he was of short breath and temper, it was eight in the evening. The streets were barely enveloped with people on his way home. The wind was cold enough to give him a shiver and the lights, fairly lit enough to guide the people walking around. Jungwon knew the earth was wearing out— he knew he was wearing out, sensing it from his own stiff body like he'd been swallowing rocks to his stomach all this time, contributing to the imbalance of earthly minerals. His lips have never been so arid, that even a quick lick on them would do no good as they'd instantly dry up. He would look at the houses and establishments with all the fatigue he had devoured, wandering as if was carrying the entire world behind his arched spine.
︎ ︎ ︎Everything about that neighborhood was what Jungwon loved. As a child, he would run around and his mother would chase him as his father was on a call with business affinþities at home. Knees and elbows scratched, clothes and skin smudged with dust, he would run back home- to his mother, rambling; cries followed by a motherly chuckle and care. As a family of three, they were once adored for being almost perfect.
︎ ︎ ︎However, just as one swings from the fantastical eras of youth to gruesome adolescence, a blur was found dividing them from happiness. Call it cliche, yet his dad was drawn to errands abroad, and his mother, to an inevitable disease. This perfect family seemed to have perpetuated distance, only leaving a man, a child, and a lifeless relationship almost too impossible to revive.
︎ ︎ ︎For the second time, Jungwon doused his lips, still unsuccessful as the dampness would immediately vanish away.
︎ ︎ ︎When he was only a few blocks from home, he halted across the flower shop. The good-old flower shop that reminded him of flowers with thorns, or perhaps, seedlings of great disgrace. The shop had already been closed, earlier than it typically does. Sometimes, he would question himself about the whereabouts of the sole boy who worked there, or how life would have gone for him for being the only one trusted to take care of the shop. Was he lonely? Was he contentful? Was he genuinely determined? Pushed? All he knew was that he's been doing it for five years now. The lonely being he is, he, at some point, could only ponder about people's lives.
