What does one even do with a single day?
He put in his two week notice three weeks ago, so no work held him in place; no shopping must to be done; no plans must be made.
Dragging his discolored feet once again across the floor, he slipped his still necessary body into a thick, black, robe. A barrier was erected against the brutal cold of the world.
A barrier, too, started to rise between him and the land of flesh and blood.
And then, he waited. He fidgeted, inching closer and closer to the known outcome.
"An incalculable amount of events will happen and change in between," the young man had told him, "yet in a decade and a half's time, I will come to fetch you."
And he was only ten; he easily consented.
An entire fifteen years. A fresh, miraculous decade and a half with his little brother.
Those surrounding the two boys labeled Yeosang's restored health a miracle: a wondrous display of fate and providence. For what child could ever recover in the span of a single night?
He shifted through his often disheveled wardrobe for a pair of thick socks. Quite often, since he moved out, the room had been in disarray. Only in the megear span of the last week did he decide organization would perhaps be a relaxing thing.
So quickly, he slid on matching socks.
Golden rays begun to seep in through the glass. Icicles danced with the sun until their rays played in kaleidoscopic patterns on the dark floor and walls.
But the sun... He told himself he would not cry today. Yet when that liquid gold melted onto his skin, as he saw color seep into his room, and heard those brave birds begin to sing, and felt the tingle of warm and cold... he was bashed with the unrealized truth that today would be a day of lasts.
His eyelids softly shut as the sun grew luminescent on his face.
The beating of his heart smoothed into a pleasant, waking rhythm. As the sunlight seeped into his brain chemistry and flowed through his vessels, he inhaled a breath of air to the floor of his lungs.
"It's your last day on the job," he said softly, patting his chest.
He checked the clock: 8:03.
YOU ARE READING
Twenty-Four Hours || k.hj
FanfictionHongjoong knew the moment he awoke; he that knew today was the day. His twenty four hours. °°° The body which had been his for over twenty five years suddenly seemed peculiar to use. Memories suffused his mind, memories he thought had been long lost...
