Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE THINGS WE LEAVE UNSAID ✷ CHAPTER ONE:
MIN YISEUL HAD been groomed by violence. It was all knowing, all seeing, all consuming. It tightened around her spine and rendered her breathless.
Letting go of the violence that choked her felt a lot like coming up from deep underwater—it was a freeing sensation that had left her head reeling, the white of her eyes wide.
She supposed it was all she had ever known. A life without it seemed too difficult, too different.
Yet, her fingers drummed against her desk, the ringing in her ears never ceased.
The air around her was alive with noise—from the buzz of the fan above her, to the quiet snores of the boy who lay slumped over his desk, directly behind her.
She gritted her teeth—no amount of prodding and poking would wake the boy, nor would her shouts. Angrily, she clenched her fists by her side, trying to concentrate on the teacher before her. It was an impossible task, Suho's snores were too close, the fan too loud.
She wrenched her eyes shut, hands reached out to squeeze her temples. "Please Suho," she breathed, "wake up."
He didn't. He never had.
Her pleas had always gone unnoticed—the hereditary gloom that she knew consumed him seemed to make her disappear too. They were all finite creatures to Suho, unimportant; even her, though he would rather die than admit it.
But today was different. His eyes wrenched open, his hair messy with sleeplessness, and he grinned at Yiseul.
She scowled in response, clucking her tongue. "I told you to ditch the night shifts. If you really need money you can just ask."
She was so nonchalant with her words—she always had been. And Suho frowned in response, his brows knitted together. He didn't like it when she was being like this, but she was always like this.
