Way Back Home

House of Cards

A house made of cards
and us inside

Chaerin reached down into the cabinet to put away a massive stack of clean plates that had just come back from the kitchen. Her back ached and she could actually hear the vertebrae cracking in and out of place every time she bent down to put away another stack of plates. The restaurant had closed an hour ago, so now it was just her and a few other people who were cleaning up for the night. It was probably midnight at that point and Chaerin should have gone home a long time ago but the clean up shift payed time and a half, so she stayed.

"Hey, I'm locking up now," Chaerin's manager told her as she hung up her apron. "You should go home, get some sleep. You need it."

Chaerin knew it wasn't a dig at the painfully obvious dark circles beneath her eyes. The manager seemed genuinely concerned; she kind of had the right to be. Chaerin had been working eighteen hour shifts at the restaurant every day for the past couple months now. She barely slept anymore, only managing three or four hours beneath the blankets before she had to be up for another shift. Things hadn't been easy lately. She was just trying to get by as best she could.

She trudged out of the restaurant, her feet hurt so badly that they had practically grown numb, but she still had a couple miles to tread before she made it home. Those two miles from the apartment to the restaurant were the only peace she got all day. A few months ago, Chaerin would have gladly skipped out of work early and gone home. But now she almost dreaded going back to that apartment, because she knew what would be waiting there. And with her own life falling apart, with her dreams slowly sinking down the drain, she could hardly stand to go home anymore, to face what was waiting for her.

But soon enough Chaerin found herself outside of apartment 5E, holding the keys in her hand. She hesitated. Chaerin stood outside that door for a solid eight minutes, and she hated every second of it. Eventually though, when her knees began to quiver from the exertion of holding her weight and her eyes started to droop closed of their own accord, she had no choice but to go inside.

The door squeaked open. The ceiling light was off but a faint glow from the open studio illuminated the living room. Yoongi lay on the couch, his eyes were closed but Chaerin knew he was awake. He never slept at night anymore, only during the day; she wasn't really sure why. Maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism. Maybe sleeping during the day distracted him from the fact that he no longer had a day job to work. He'd had to quit doing deliveries after he broke his shoulder. Everything had started going downhill after that.

"Hey," Chaerin croaked, hoping that Yoongi would react in some way. She got nothing. He didn't speak. He didn't even twitch.

"Did you write any songs today?" Nothing. No response.

"Well uh, I'm really tired so I think I'll just go to sleep."

It was awkward having to announce herself like this. Normally she and Yoongi moved like two cogs of the same machine; always sure of the others movements and patterns. But this was so strange for her. They had known each other for nearly a decade and yet she just didn't know how to act around him.

"Do you want the mattress or are you okay on the couch?" She asked him in vain, knowing he wouldn't speak a word to her.

And sure enough he just lay there in perfect silence. Not getting the response she so desperately hoped for, Chaerin sighed and padded over to the mattress. She collapsed down on it, not even bothering to change out of her work clothes. Sleep was a luxury that she could scarcely afford anymore, so when it came around she didn't want to waste a minute. Once her head hit the pillow, Chaerin was out. These days she slept like the dead.

Just as soon as Chaerin's light breaths could be heard around the apartment, Yoongi's eyes slid open. He hated ignoring her, absolutely hated it. But he couldn't stand to tell her that he was failing.

He hadn't written a song or even a single lyric since his accident, since he landed in the hospital. Practically two months had passed and his pen hadn't touched the page even once. It's not that he hadn't had any ideas, because there were plenty of things that he wanted to speak out about. But he couldn't write any of it down, he just couldn't.

What would he even write?

He could write about how his busted up shoulder kept him from recording his music. He could write about his best friend, who was killing herself by working eighteen hour shifts every single day just so she could pay the rent and the hospital bills. He could write about how his misery and depression had worsened to the point that he could hardly stand to wake up in the morning. He could write about how completely useless he felt. But no matter what he wrote it would never fully express what he was feeling. There were no words to sum this up.

And as for Chaerin...that was perhaps the worst thing that'd been haunting him.

She came home every day after slaving away to pay for his expenses and she tried so hard to start a conversation or just ask how his day was, and he completely ignored her. She would make dinner and he would turn away. She gives him a smile and he gives her absolutely nothing. She did so much for him and he couldn't even bring himself to say hello. But as much as he knew he was hurting Chaerin by ignoring her, what he hated the most was letting her down.

He'd promised. He had promised Chaerin that moving to Seoul would be good for them. They would work and live together. Chaerin was going to find an agent and go to auditions and become an actress so she could make her grandmother proud. And Yoongi was going to work on his music, rap underground and break into the music scene so he could make Chaerin proud. That's all he wanted. To make her proud.

But he was failing.

Chaerin wasn't getting any auditions. Yoongi wasn't getting anywhere with his music. They were stuck in this rut and he wasn't so sure that there was any way to dig themselves out of it. And really, he wanted to talk to Chaerin about all this. He wanted her to know that she's not alone and that even if he's depressed he still loves her and wishes that things weren't so horrible. But every time he saw her face, he was reminded of the fact that he was letting her down. And so, no words came out. No conversation was made. No syllables were exchanged. All because he was letting her down. He'd promised to take care of her, and he couldn't even do that.

Chaerin was wonderful. And he truly was the worlds biggest jerk.