[3] There Be Fools Alive | Hongjoong ✓

five | there be melancholia at dusk

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LEAVING THE AIRPORT AFTER THE catastrophe was nothing. Hongjoong had pressed through thicker parapets of suffocating crowds in his career (even though there'd been none to save him till airport security came rushing to his aid—his rescuers in black and beige was what he called them), and though it hadn't been smooth sailing, he got over it in seconds of catching his breath. When considering the hell Changmin was sure to rain down on him like tomorrow was a myth for his actions without thinking of the consequences, it had only caused a short-lived burst of terror in Hongjoong. One he recovered from by the time he had spotted his vehicle.

   Backing out the parking lot, mind homed in on the road, half-alert for trailing paps and the rest of those gossip guzzlers, was now a period of time fuzzy enough to call a vague memory. Though his hands might have trembled as they seized the steering wheel, by the time he'd stepped out the car, made for the elevator to his floor, that too was remembrance for the wind.

   Reaching his condominium unit, his eyes first stumbled upon a throw pillow, then another, even a Ming Thing from a recent trip they'd taken to South America, a pink-purple-ish (he never understood colors) mat stowed away in a corner, which she would keep handy for when her mood for yoga favoured the living area than the in-built wellness down the hall. There had been other items spotting the place that highlighted Hana, too, lived here, and letting it be the second dawning that she'd called him Joongie and took the crown of victory as she walked away, dejected for the cameras, flanked by four bodyguards had been Hongjoong's root of lividness all week.

   Letting go that she did have the last say in the end and he let her be was an excruciating type of experience he wouldn't believe people recovered from.

   The hardest. Possibly.

   Hongjoong took an angry swig of his beer, certain it would never give his favourite cognac a run for its money, but contempt still bubbled within him. Righteous contempt was how he'd decided viewing it. More than enough to keep him fussing over the minor details, once having the surety he had finally slinked into the unfeeling place where these things functioned better as therapy than comfort and/or convenience. Here also, he needed all the brain power to stare Seonghwa down, and soon the same man would be torched to ash before his laser gaze.

   Who am I kidding? He asked himself, didn't bother sitting tight for an answer that wouldn't come. He lacked the drudge to bring it to be. But there's never not a good time to think of Kwon Hana—likely on a private jet to France, her go-to country for the grand celebrations in her life, this one: her first trip as a free woman seven years later—and finding the dots to connect, but worried the sooner he did meant having to tell people off. There'd been so many to tell. It didn't scare Hongjoong anymore when he thought of how he didn't know half these people, more than.

   He paused to be amazed by how he had done it, that he had done it—Seonghwa. Hongjoong watched him, sat and relaxed, like he'd finally regained his placement with the exclusive side of civility. It started to feel deserving of ridicule to him when he stopped seeing Seonghwa, but Hana. The self-righteous narcissistic lunatic who practiced turning the tides in her favour as an art. Bearing it in consideration, it set her far above even his widely loved pal here who, at least, faced the heat of all the hatred and disappointment for a time before he went about winning everyone over with the penitent shtick...

   That was how Hongjoong recurred when he'd told her to err was human. Sonny, that is. He had told her to err was human, as though all Seonghwa had done was run over a mailbox DUI. Of course, Hongjoong would stand by it anyday, except now that the context involved the shoe turning up on the other foot, he mentally relived that day at the cafe. This time he supported Sonny and would've even agreed to plot an execution if it came to it. All this would've been entrenched from the knowing that his Hana hadn't been the most faithful significant other either. Damn it, nothing could convince him otherwise. For Hongjoong, it took more a semblance to disbelief. Right now he liked to think, he was merely here for the sake of having no other choice but to be here, a feeling that had this constant grip on him he could never quite wrap his head around it. If he wasn't mistaken, this had been going on as far back as the time he used to believe Hana was an angel who'd escaped heaven. The deception had also been present. Hongjoong thought perhaps it was the bait that kept him lured in for years.