My Pink, Your Blue. || markbam.

one.

edited and proofread.

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Autumn leaves rustled like paper under the scraping of his shoes on the concrete. The snapping of twigs back-dropped to the riot of the autumn palette painted against the fallen leaves. He would recall the cozy evenings near the campfires which cuddled him in a soft blanket.

With the torn plastic bag swung over his shoulder, his feet trailed against the ground alongside his jeans that shuffled against the pavement. His footsteps were slow, yet irregular as the lonesome 'ting' of the notification signaled him to pace faster. He unlocked his phone, the bright light radiating off the surface.

'Bring me 20 dollars.'

The ID was printed in bold at the top. He shut his eyes, regretting the decision he was about to make. Reading the message, he didn't reply and switched off his phone, ignoring the message with a sigh that drooped his shoulders lower.

Shuffling across towards the gate, he lightly pushed it, the creak accompanying the busy city evening. Straightening his back, he paced towards the front door, preparing to unlock it. Oddly, the door was left ajar, the tinge of the last sunlight glowing upon the door before it sunk behind the distant jagged mountain ridge. Placing the plastic bag filled with groceries on the table, he rolled his aching shoulders as he pushed his glasses back.

"Mother, I'm home."

The stillness of the house was strangely serene, the silence of the house making his blood run cold. There was no reply, no answer, only silence that hung in the air. It was never this quiet, only when something in particular happened.

Echoes of small groans lingered in the air, each footstep becoming heavy as he twisted the wooden door open to the study, revealing a woman clutching her head in her arms, bottles of soju crowding the wooden study table.

"Mother?"

She glanced up, staring at him silently. Suddenly and breathlessly, tears bursting forth like a stream. As much as she tried to hold it in, her dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears. They tumbled down, one after another, no sign of stopping, apart from brief pauses as the pain came in waves. Her sobs stifled as she tried to muffle her cries and hide the affliction. It wouldn't stop, brick by brick came her salty tears rolling down, collapsing the wall of defense.

"My dear son, thank you for coming home."

He outstretched his arms, hugging them around her tightly, placing a palm on her back, comforting her. Despite the confusion and curiosity that settled inside him, he shrugged his heaving shoulders, peering down at her.

She had never cried this hard.

Only when grandmother had passed.

He remained silent, not willing to ask questions. If it was this serious that it made her cry, it was something he dared not ask. Pulling away, his mother smiled at him and he raised his eyebrow, pointing out the door as he directed the topic towards something else.

"I bought the groceries you wanted. They're sitting on the kitchen bench."

She reached for his arm, wiping her tears that stained her floral plum purple dress.

"Thankyou BamBam, for understanding and not asking any questions. I will explain everything when we have dinner."

BamBam looked at her, nodding quietly. "The storm will pass soon." He mumbled, staring at the dimly lit candle that settled on the windowsill, the lavender scent releasing its soothing scent whilst the wax dripped, gradually cooling upon the candle surface. He watched the candle burn, the delicate flame illuminating a small portion of the room.

"It will all pass soon." He mumbled again, his gaze not drifting off the lit candle as wispy plumes of grey haze pirouetted their way upwards and ceased to be visible.