A gap emerged between Sihyeon and her heart long ago; there was nothing that visited it that felt real to Sihyeon, and so no matter what emotion the hour that embraced her demanded in return, Sihyeon stood indifferent, silent.
After those many years, Sihyeon still could not write full definitions of worldly matters from the likes of fear, sympathy, or pain; all Sihyeon knew was to take a step, to punch and use her fist when it was needed.
Discipline was the last of her worries, the least of her concerns, but discipline turned out to be what she had been seeking all along, and discipline was what was given to her, taught to her. Sometimes she hated Taehyung for it; she despised him for making her stand where she was, gathering papers and writing reports instead of being out there in the face of the world, having the rest of it gather the bits and pieces for her.
Despite that raging chaos, the one that rang in Sihyeon's ears nonstop it felt like she had been born with it, there were only a few things that Sihyeon managed to be aware of her love for in life, and as countable as they were, she knew there would not stand a hairsbreadth of hesitance between her and giving up her life for them.
Them in name were her sister and the many times she had stumbled and fallen into her arms, the many silent nights she was forgotten by her even when she was all Sihyeon's memory of life was about.
Them in name were her friends and Naeun's reckless decisions and fragility only in Sihyeon's arms; the kids she vowed home and home was what they made for her.
Them in name were Yeonjun and all the colors she had only seen in his presence, all the seconds that fell in face of their love, losing sense and meaning and speaking one language alone - death it was and death only - if it were for one another.
Them in name were Siwoo and being the only child to give his mother an abundance of sleep, and it was not that Sihyeon counted Yun or Jake or Taehyun or Sunghoon out, but it was the relief she felt while thinking of her first true child, the one child she made.
Them in name were her last few minutes in a long day of work.
Sihyeon could never exactly say she liked her job, but it was one that put a gun in her hands, a target at her reach, and a lesser need for an excuse to shoot or for someone to cover up for her mistakes - she did not need to do them.
However, Sihyeon did love going back home. It was warm, it was quiet, and most importantly, it had no Kim Taehyung to it; even though the latter had his own work to do, Taehyung just seemed to never cease to find his way to Sihyeon, to speak on and on to her, and it made Sihyeon doubt if he ever was out of character, the one he built for her at Paradise Grove.
"Lastly, we have Lee Jaesong," Hyejin exhaled, the weariness of the day finding its way all over her tone and bent body; it seemed like her back was already complaining, and so she sat down on one of the chairs, eyes still fixed on the papers at hand.
I have sent you the accurate timings of report and our arrest," Jeonghan nodded, putting the copies before them all and raising some others to his own eyes, "also, the text messages and phone calls that we found," he scanned them, and once he was done, he put them as well over the table and spread them, making clear of their weight and origin, "as well as Hyeon's on-the-spot visuals."
"I'm also sending the information on the evidence found on-site," Yeonjun walked closer from behind them, eyes reading the papers he had just printed while his other hand held a cup of water, a lifeline, because it was his last resort to look away from caffeine at an hour too late.
"Great," Sihyeon was offered everything, and she looked at them with alert, the last few minutes never too few of her attention, "Jisoo?"
"I have been following up with Lieutenant Kim," he immediately answered, but his confidence in the information was never reflected in the content - he hated having to speak it, "they are passing the case to court because his lawyer is pleading not guilty."
YOU ARE READING
The Afterlife
Fanfiction"Waning! Crescent! Here she comes, wise. The moon made of me on its own it shall rise. Wind! Wind! It blows! Wind! To our draughting tree. Cry, my dear; with wind sure falls water, cry, with wind and water comes life, so I live; it is true - the win...