Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR ( Eulogy Of Devotion )
A DAY LATER, when the nausea erodes into something hardly docile in the pit of Jaehwa's foul stomach and the tears clawing at her eyes fall against the back of her throat, the doorbell rings late afternoon, just shy of the sunset dusting the blue horizon, and Cha Si-woo opens the door for Ahn Suho with a smile.
"Hello, Mr. Cha." Suho says, and his voice carries into Jaehwa's ears as she sits on the couch in the living room, her eyes glued to the television.
Si-woo opens the door and lets him in wordlessly. There's an understanding to his voice only a father could have; Warm, yet worn. "Here to see Jaehwa?"
"Yes." Suho smiles, and molds himself into the steps of Jaehwa's home easily, as though he's always belonged.
"I made dinner." Jaehwa's dad gestures to the kitchen as he shuts the door after him. "Are you hungry?"
Suho is hungry; He's always hungry. Hungry for what he cannot have, hungry for an ambition that serves only to break him. Only this time, his hunger won't be satisfied by mere words. His hunger is more than the rumble of his stomach, more than what bubbles in his interior.
( His hunger is the cast hidden beneath Yeon Si-eun's docile fingers, the emptiness in Cha Jaehwa's once lively eyes. His hunger is the ache in his knee that erodes him into a sentient creature ).
"No, thank you." He shakes his head politely, a liar in a teenage boy's body. His eyes scan the empty rooms for Jaehwa.
"She's in the living room." Si-woo says with an air of humor when the teen's eyes shift past him. Something in his demeanor makes Suho feel at ease. He supposes Jaehwa inherited that quality, that softness to her sharp eyes.
Suho doesn't need to be told twice. Something itches at the back of his throat, and he navigates the halls of Jaehwa's house like a second skin, familiar and warm.
The television is off when Suho finally enters the living room. Jaehwa sits on the couch, almost rigidly, staring at the black screen, tracing his reflection with her eyes. The all too familiar silhouette of his black and red jacket and his school uniform sear her mind.
"Hi." She says quietly, as though afraid to break the thin string of silence that buzzes in the room.
His response is automatic. "Hey. You didn't come to the restaurant."
Jaehwa tears her eyes from the dark screen. The words I forgot linger on her tongue before she decides to choose a less daunting statement. "My dad made dinner instead. Sorry."
