crack in the mirror | gayeon 🪞

-20-

The wind blew, and even though he was in the library, he felt the heavy gusts on the back of his body.

The only thing that kept him from flying away at that moment was Jiseok, and the way he tapped his shoulder and showed him the book he was looking for for some time already. It was a heavy, old, blue book that Jooyeon didn't bother to remember the title of, and just nodded at him, walking towards the windowsill across the table where they placed all the books they needed (no matter if for school or pure entertainment).

He was still so lost in his thoughts. Everything happening lately made it so hard for him to focus on anything as if each worry was a grey cloud hanging above his head. The only thing he could hope for now was for these clouds to finally rain and let him forget about them as if they were never there.

Jiseok leaned his head against the fogged window, his fingers were wrapped around Jooyeon's wrist very slightly, and if Jooyeon could, he would've said something. He always wanted to say so many things, but it wasn't easy. That's why he was a writer after all.

Now, he wanted to whisper something. He didn't even know what, but he didn't want to stay quiet for any longer. He didn't want to keep on thinking about Seungmin, recalling the way he cried yesterday or the way his eyes looked—empty, not as vital as usual—and he didn't want to think about Jiseok and the blood, which was the main thing that occupied his mind.

Pushing his free hand deep into his pocket, he looked up at the ceiling. One of the lights was flickering, as if it was about to explode or burn out any minute. He looked down again, this time his eyes finding their way to the other students who headed towards the exit because it was getting late already.

"You are thinking about something."

"Nothing really important," he choked out, now looking for something around to hang his gaze on. He found that pile of books he and Jiseok had stacked on the table the easiest to look at. Although... as he thought about them more his mind automatically drifted to his home. His father. Mother. The lack of money.

Jinyoung was not joking when saying they will stop working.

Jooyeon had almost nothing left. And yet he had to buy himself things (food, clothes, everything that a human being needs) and pay for the school. It was too much for the little amount of budget he had.

He still could not understand why his mother and father decided to stop working, but he never really understood any of their choices. They were a complicated pair of people he probably would never get to fully apprehend, so he had given up on trying since a very early age.

"I should find a job," he said, finally giving up on staring ever so obstinately at the stack of books a good few metres from his body. "I need to find it."

Obviously he had to. Otherwise staying there would become impossible, which was not a thing he would like to happen. It was the last thing that he would want. This place has become very important to him. Over the past few months everything has changed, and he just liked being there—far from where his parents lived.

"If this continues, I may have nothing left for myself," he was talking about money, and Jiseok simply nodded, listening to him. As he sensed this was everything Jooyeon wanted from anyone at this moment.

Be heard by someone and understood.

"I can't just go home," he closed his eyes, unfortunately to him immediately imagining everything he hated to remember. His room; empty, because each time he brought something he loved there (a poster, a flower, even some bottle caps that he used to collect) it would be destroyed. By whom? His father obviously. The path leading from his house to the main street, or even that small clock in the living room that rang loudly every time 12 after midday struck. "It's gonna start over again."