Ineffable 𓇢𓆸 || Jakehoon

🍃 Chapter 41🍃

The sun is high now, casting a warm light over the old building and the makeshift camp that has become our new home. I've helped unload supplies, carried boxes, handed out food, and worked alongside my friends. But for now, I'm sitting on a rock, a little farther from the crowd, watching Jake.

His laugh is easy, bright, a sound that cuts through the tense atmosphere of the past few days. I see him surrounded by kids, some sitting on the ground, others on his lap. There's a lightness to him when he's with them, a kind of joy that makes everything else fade away. He's telling them stories-tales of far-off places and mythical creatures, of adventures and dreams. His voice is gentle, soothing, and for a moment, I can forget about the war, forget about the soldiers, the constant fear, and the ache in my side.

I can't hear every word from this distance, but I don't need to. The laughter of the children reaches me easily, their giggles and soft whispers as they listen to Jake's voice. It's a relief to hear. The children are happy, safe-at least for now-and Jake is the one who has given them that peace. He's erased the shadows of fear in their eyes, if only for a little while.

I lean back on the rock, closing my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun seep into my skin. It feels like a brief reprieve, like this moment could last forever.

But then, the sudden, deafening roar of a distant explosion shatters the calm.

The ground shakes, and a cloud of dust rises in the distance. I hear the kids around Jake go silent, their little faces turning pale, their eyes wide with terror. I don't even need to look to know that the bombings are starting again. It's been days, maybe longer since we heard the last one. But the fear never goes away. The sound of it never fades.

Before I can even move, I see it-Jake, his arms going around the children, holding them close as they clutch at him. Their tiny hands are shaking as they bury their faces against his chest. The innocence in their eyes, the confusion, the fear... it twists in my gut.

It's always like this after an explosion. The world seems to crumble, and the kids are left, caught between the hope Jake gives them and the nightmare we can't escape.

My chest tightens as I push myself up from the rock and walk toward them, my legs moving before I can even think. I hear the soft whimpers of the children as they cling to Jake, and I know the look in his eyes-he's trying to comfort them, trying to reassure them, but even he can't erase the fear.

I drop down next to him, and immediately a few of the children look up at me. Their faces are streaked with tears, their eyes wide with confusion. Without thinking, I pull them into my arms. The soft weight of them against me, the trembling little bodies-they don't deserve any of this.

I look over at Jake, who's still holding a few of the smaller kids in his arms. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the pain in them, the helplessness. But there's something else, too-a quiet strength.

We can't protect them from everything, but we can give them a little peace. For now, that's enough.

One by one, the others come to sit with us. Niki, Heeseung hyung, Jay, and Eunhee all gather around, forming a circle with the kids in the center. We sit in silence for a moment, the soft cries of the children filling the space between us. We all know the war is still out there, still threatening, but for now, we're here. And we're going to keep trying.

Jake starts speaking again, his voice gentle but firm, like a calm in the storm. He tells them stories of places that are far away from here, where no bombs fall and no one has to run. He paints pictures with his words, and soon the children are quieting down, listening, drawn into his world of hope and imagination.

I lean my head back against the rock and pull one of the younger girls closer, feeling her tiny hands clutch at my jacket. There's a part of me that aches, deeply, at the sight of her eyes-too innocent for a world like this. I want to tell her that everything will be okay. That the war will end and they won't have to fear anymore.

But I can't promise that.

Instead, I listen. I listen to Jake's voice, the rhythm of it calming the children, calming us all. I hear his words, even when they fade into the background noise, and I can almost believe for a moment that things could be different. That, maybe, we could have more days like this-days when we forget the war and just hold on to each other.

The stories, the laughter, the presence of all our friends-it's a fragile kind of peace, but for now, it's enough.