CHAPTER 7: Starkissed, Sunburnt

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SOUTH KOREA
It was in times like this, where he didn't know what to think, that he hated the most. Was this the beginning of his downfall or the start of his life?

He was a sucker for action movies and adventure murder mysteries where the main cast overcame their difficulties and solved a problem cursing the world for generations, rising from the depths with their heads bloody but held high. From his early years he would watch the television, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the races across barren landscapes — ears ringing with the reverberation of the gunshots, cheering whenever they scored a victory.

Now, his childhood dream had became teenage reality. But would it be truly like the movies? Would they hold guns and sneak into laboratories, tackle UN's workers and save anyone who fell to the same fate as Vietnam, or would they fall into the chasm that had opened when their rivalry began? It was either show the world how defaced their history was, or die trying.

North seemed to have the same thoughts. Although the two didn't share a room, they shared a border — well, more like a wall. And it was the most unsound-proof thing South had seen in his life. If North ever got a girlfriend in the future, South was so ready to crash at America's or Japan's while they did... what they needed to do. (Come on, he was South. Of course he would think of that.) Although he wasn't even sure if North liked girls — but that was a rabbit hole for the future.

Anyways, North was as restless as he was that night. They had left China's house significantly traumatized but also a little less naive — each clutching a classified escape plan in their hands. They would leave at midnight in one week from now when night had settled, to the furthest corners of Neo Orbis to organize their next moves. Until that time became the present, they would settle scores, tell family members if needed, and pack belongings all under the blinds of secrecy.

He sighed loudly, putting his face on his hands in anguish. Everything would be done for one reason: just in case they wouldn't return.

It looked like North shared his sleeplessness, for from the room beside him came shuffling and crinkling and the occasional groan for the next thirty minutes — which was very unlike the brother who normally slept like this was his last night on Neo. South, too, hadn't fallen into deep slumber either tonight...

He honestly had no clue why they all agreed to it so easily — it had their lives on the line, after all. But China had put up a considerably solid argument, and their personal connection to the origins they had believed they once knew kindled a sort of betrayal in them; and Vietnam's hardships remained in firm reminder that they had lived through a flawless (albeit a lie) world their whole lives. He laid supine on his bed, glaring angrily at the ceiling as if it had done something wrong.

There were a lot of things keeping his eyes open. One of them was not the ceiling. But still. It was all he had to blame at the moment. Eventually, he decided it was no use trying to sleep, and went outside for a walk instead.

The damp, earthy scent of petrichor wafted towards his nose as he quietly made his way across crinkled leaves and broken branches. All around their polarized house, somber darkness had fallen and brought with it warm evening winds, stirring up piles of dirt left by the remains of fallen willow trees.

He slouched down onto the couches he had set up with North years ago to watch the stars and set up roaring campfires. Regardless how bright the flames once burned scarlet against the night, the couches and the patio were now almost never used.

The bright light nearly blinded him when he clicked his phone on. Japan had texted him privately, asking how he felt about the whole thing. Ukraine and Canada had been offline since they left, and America had sent a short message asking if they got home safely — but he too, was now offline.

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