Barren

2. Longing

It was this night that I saw him. The night that I escaped. From all the misery to find a cure. A cure to this seemingly perpetuating fate.

I left with that hope that wrapped itself upon the runaways. Now I truly understood how they felt. Running for their lives, deeply saddened by what they would be leaving behind and what they would soon come to discover; behind the trees that built the colossal forest. But despite the feeling that left its scarring impression, there was an exhilarating excitement for the adventure. New things to learn and all the secrets buried beneath the roots of the moor.

Everything was so dark and daunting. A macabre miasma was left in the air, consolidated by the whisper of leaves rustling and wind -- occasionally the smell of burning wood from a crackling fire wafted throughout the woods.

He sauntered towards me, and something about the way he walked so carelessly reminded me of him. Yoongi. They were so similar. The light that crept through the canopy shone moonlight in his eyes and I stopped midway - speechless. Nostalgia washed over. The moments we shared, and the intimacy that rose to our hearts as the many days we had spent together turned into weeks, and then years.

Yoongi. Yoongi. Yoongi.

It was him, but at the same time, it was as though his heart and mind belonged to completely different people; polar opposites, in fact. I knew that the boy I was so close to was in there. Somewhere. Drowned on the floor of this facade. Or at least I hope.

His distinguished chestnut brown eyes had not that mellow and joyous irises anymore. They changed to something that yielded the potential to make your shudder with a stare. 

So sullen and devious. They were deadly. Like the zealous glare of a snake a few seconds before leaping at its prey - eyes open wide, ready to snap.

"Yoo-Yoongi." I stuttered, the words flying out of my lips quicker than I had time to consider.

I could swear on my life that, just for a split second, a bit of life plunged back into him; but he returned to normal, his face plastered with the depraved demeanour.

I struggled for what to say and wished that I could grasp onto each moment longer. To try and figure him out. Loosen his strings that trapped the innocence of him to find the boy I thought I knew a long time ago.

When I turned to look back at him, he was out of sight. Quicker than anything. Swifter than a fox.

All too suddenly, I felt a sharp sting on my throat, and through my peripheral vision, I caught a familiar silver glint. A knife.

Everyone had one here -- if not some sort of weapon -- for they knew nothing was secure. Even if you thought you had it safe and sound, someone or something would get to it. Beneficial justification or enjoyment, the reason was left unknown.

Panic hit me immediately, and I struggled to get out of the strong headlock. More blood spewed out, and eventually, I stopped for I knew I could not win to someone whose body was so well built.

"Who are you?" the voice breathed. It didn't take me long to realise that he was the person holding me hostage, and although there was crimson red spilling a sharp line down to my arm, the warmth of his almost-whisper shushed me, again.

He didn't remember me.

One of his arms were firm around my neck, and his distinct veins didn't go unnoticed as they pumped blood throughout his pale body.

I hit his arm begging for him to let go, but my pleas were useless. Catching my breath, I said, "Don't you... Don't you remember me?"

The stronghold around my neck faltered, and I felt him loosen his grip. He tilted his head, and taking this as a sign that he was confused, I continued, "I'm Ky-" 

Before I could finish, I was cut off.

With a quick and steady grip on my shoulders, he turned me around, and my feet swivelled across the earth to face him. My sweaty hands made contact with his robust chest, and I suppressed the urge to turn crimson red. Through the layers of clothing he wore, I could still feel the contours on his torso that prove to be the work of training.

In an attempt to calm myself, I look the other way but am promptly spun back to face him.

As I look at his face, I take in his expression, my focus mainly on his brows which are furrowed and his parched lips that lay in a pout. The frightening glare did not remain much, and there was a faint hint of disbelief that played itself out primarily on his widening eyes.

After what seems like forever, he asks in but a whisper, "Is it really you? Kyungmi?"