( Bang Chan + Hwang Hyunjin )
❝I cannot risk losing her.❞
┈┈ mistopher | 2022 ++
Pride is something that Bang Chan was forced to put aside in order to satisfy his basic needs. And he'd grown used to it for the year and a half that he'd been living o...
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┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 🏠 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
⇒Lonely St., Seoul, South Korea 11:45pm
Chan couldn't remember, exactly, the last time that the tips of his fingers had fondled the metallic-smelling coat of a fifty-dollar note.
His eyes were teary, knees held up to his chest, heart aching from both the overwhelming emotions of being treated with such generosity by a man he knew barely anything about, and the fact that he now had seventy whole dollars to his name.
Not a very valuable figure, to the average civilian, but more than enough to entice fast gratefulness in Chan's heart for the gods whom he never wholly believed in. He folded the note into one fist, molding the latter into the palm of its partner and pressing his forehead against it, considerate in the volume of his sob to not disturb the sleeping Bella further inside the tent.
"Thank you, Felix," he whispered to the air, sighing, wiping his face into his shirt. And then Chan reached into one of the small bags, positioned decently in the corner of his shelter, and took out a brown and long envelope. And then he opened it, sliding in the money that he had been blessed with, just beside the $20.00 that Hyunjin had given about two nights prior.
Curious, given the evening's silence and his still grip on the cover, Chan slid out some of the documents that were in there, refamiliarizing himself with the areas of ink and messy signatures on the partially discolored paper; Bella's birth certificate. He smiled slightly at her full name, and then his wife's where it was supposed to be.
It was just a pity that she was not where she was supposed to be.
That she was not with her family.
That she was not laying beside her husband, with her baby girl in her arms, reassuring them that all would be fine. That Chan's business would flourish no matter how much debt flooded the foundation. No matter how much they owed for her hospital bills.
Reassuring them that she'd always be there.
More tears fled down Chan's face, numb cheeks only growing aware when a heavy drop plopped down onto the document in Chan's hands. So sniffling, he placed it and the others that he had taken out carefully back into the envelope, closing it and shifting again to relocate it into the carrier.
Shaking his head, aiming to recall the sting of heartbreak that was stretching to pull the lever of dominance over his emotions and focus for the night, and possibly cost him the three or four hours of sleep that he'd attain usually, Chan instead thought of what investment he could make with the money splayed as a thin and torn bedsheet over his misfortune.
Perhaps a decent outfit that would fit the assumption of a presentable calibre for a job interview? One for the role of an elementary school teacher, maybe?
