always ↬ leading me on || l.dh • h.rj • z.cl

·three·

Full Sun. It was the name of their favourite café. The place where they had first met each other. That memory was still very clear in Donghyuck's mind.

One, because it was a completely terrible day.

Two, because it was a completely terrible first encounter.

Three, because it had completely changed his life for the better.

Winter had hit the country harshly and nine year old Hyuck had just come home from school. Lips cut, dried tear tracks lining his cheeks and the remnants of fresh jeers running around his mind. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the straps of his bag tightly and he wondered why he gave them free reign of his conscience. Why he let the words consume him. He wondered why he let himself drown.

Was it because he wasn't worthy of being saved?

As his mother came running to him, cupping his face with worry and asking if he was okay — all he could do was stare into her tired eyes and question if he deserved her.

He didn't.

She was too kind and he was too useless. She was an angel and he was a disgrace. What the other children had said was true. He was a burden. It was his fault she was in pain.

He could see the fatigue that crossed her face at times, but why did she hide it? Why did she insist on smiling whenever he was around?

She looked so dead in those moments. Her eyes betrayed her smile. Her heart betrayed her mind. He knew.

Maybe that's why it hurt even more, because he knew it was all just an act. He missed the warmth in her gaze. He missed the gentle hugs and soft caresses. He missed her. The real her. Not the fake one that was in front of him right now.

She looked so exhausted — almost as exhausted as he felt. The child was so fed up of having to come home to the same scene everyday. Having to play along continuously as if he was acting out the same performance every evening.

It was always the same things that happened, he would come home from the torture at school with bruises and wounds littering his tan skin. He would be greeted by his mother's worried face and be taken into the kitchen and sat on a stool while she patched him up using the first aid kit.

It was always the same. Having his heart broken and then put back together.

Sometimes he wanted to change the script. Sometimes, when she'd ask him if he was okay — he wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her how much it hurt, how hard it was to fight against the thoughts in his head.

But he never did. He stuck to his lines, faked a smile and said 'I'm fine'. He wasn't of course. In those moments, his heart felt so tight, but he didn't know why. It felt as if he would choke on every breath he took, so he held it in. His breath, his tears and his pain.

Today wasn't any different. Sat at the same stool with his mother crouching in front of him, dabbing his lips with antiseptic. It stung, but it was a numb kind of pain so he didn't mind.

His thoughts were somewhere else and he couldn't really hear what his mother was telling him, her words came muffled to his ears. He knew she was talking, just didn't know what she was saying; like that feeling of being underwater.

Right now, that water was engulfing him, suffocating him against it's cold tide. He didn't mind though, he couldn't really tell what it was doing. Didn't really realise how his air was slowly being stolen.

Until his mother sighed and put the cotton swab down. Then he snapped out of it and stared at her with wide eyes, thinking she'd finally had enough of him now.

Instead, she looked at him with gentle eyes, like the ones she used to have, and she helped him off the stool and took him by the hand. Together, they walked back to the entryway and she wore her coat and gave him his, wrapping him up in a scarf and gloves. She held his hand in hers as she walked out of the house with him.

He couldn't really see much because his hood was obscuring his vision, but he could see the small snowflakes that fell down in front of him. They looked so beautiful, so light and free as they drifted through the air gracefully. Right now, Donghyuck wished he was a snowflake.

He wasn't.

His mother had started to walk, hands still locked together as he waddled behind her blindly. They continued on for quite some time, the young boy admiring the sheets of white that blanketed the streets.

‣‣

They stopped in front of a moderately-sized café in the middle of the city. A pretty mahogany and gold coloured building with a beautiful luminous esqué. It was enchanting, with lanterns and fairy lights that basked it in their shimmering embrace during the cold winter night. Auric letters shone brightly, placed on the front of the store — the neat cursive that spelled out the name in simplicity. Full Sun.

-To Be Continued-