❝forever? don't be ridiculous.❞
✎ in which yeonjun works in a convenience store, and yeji finds a dead rat. literally.
𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻
I DONT SHIP THEM TO THE POINT WHERE IT FEELS UNCOMFORTABLE, THIS STORY IS...
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i'm using punctuations and capitalization now! idk it just looks more professional —————————— ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ ° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ ° ┊┊. ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° *. * ·
Hwang Yeji never believed in forever.
The idea of having something or someone enter your life and never leave is just too absurd. Too unbelievable. Too... improbable. One day, sooner or later, everything that enters your life is going to leave you. Nothing stays forever; forever means nothing.
Things will end eventually, right?
Long-term? Short-term? None of those matters.
At the end, you're going to die alone, anyway. No relationship you've built on earth will matter in the afterlife.
The only thing that lasts forever is death.
Yeji stared into the gravestone in front of her, sighing as she repeated those thoughts over and over again, tears streaming down her beautiful pink cheeks with every thought.
Slowly lifting her hand up to touch the said gravestone, she let out a bitter chuckle, "I was stupid, wasn't I?"
"Mom," she whimpered, pain evident in her tone, "why did you leave me?"
Yeji laughed. No, it wasn't the kind of laugh you'd hear in a child's birthday party nor in the middle of the day. It was more of a laugh you'd hear at midnight, under the covers, with no one else around to hear. It was a bitter, angry sound that came from a broken soul. It was a laugh that was born of pure spite and anger.
The feeling when you lose your last family member stabs the heart like a thousand swords, shattering it to thousands of different pieces.
Too many that it cannot be repaired.
Forever and ever.
Forever and ever and ever.
Yeji had been alone in the world for as long as she can remember. The 16-year-old remembers nothing but faint memories of her mother. She remembered being a five-year-old girl holding her mother's hand in the carnival, gleefully smiling while eating the puffiest bite of cotton candy. But that memory was like a tiny piece of tissue paper wedged in a tiny crack in her skull, hardly noticeable or worth thinking about.
And then she remembered the crash. In which her life changed forever, but not for the better.
All Yeji could remember was the sound. The sound of metal grinding against metal. The sound of glass bursting. The sound of the car hitting the tree. The sound of her mother's screams. Her own screams.
And when she woke, the young Yeji received news that her beloved mother will not be coming back, and that she's asleep; asleep for eternity—for forever.
