Book 2: The Seventeen Heirs Series; Jeon Wonwoo (SEVENTEEN FANFIC)

40: DWELLING

LEANNE AIANNE'S POV

If there was anything that stayed the same after one long year, maybe it was the fact that I still have no inclination to join a social gathering.

I still don't like parties, just as much as I hate happy music. I hate a lot of things now. Or maybe because I just don't care.

Sey Chelle looked at me expectantly while driving, waiting for my answer. I went with her after Ravi and the rest welcomed me at the airport.

I sighed and shook my head. "I'm not really in the mood to have fun and party right now, Sey. I'm sorry. I just want to rest for a bit."

I saw it dampened her mood. She was expecting me to say yes. We just saw each other now after four months — since she terminated my contract — and I know she's happy that I returned her in Korea. I was finally home, after all.

Home . . .

Yes. I am home. Though I don't really know where is home anymore.

She smiled and tried to brighten up her face. "It's okay. We can go directly to the hotel if you want to rest. The party would be later tonight. But I'll get you back at six-thirty, okay? We don't want to start without you."

"Okay." I agreed, sounding much like I didn't care. I had been using that word for far too many times without even meaning them.

I don't feel okay. I feel nothing. Desires no longer exist in my empty heart and I'm afraid there's nothing that could ever fill the space again.

I wore my glasses again and act like I was sleeping until we arrived at the hotel and also where the party would be held.

I didn't have to check in because Sey already did. Even if she's not my manager anymore, she still manages to take care of me.

My room was as sterile as it should be, clean to a fault, and very pleasant — it looked a lot like ephemeral — as temporary as life looked like to me.

I let my luggage on the foot of my bed and rolled the white fabric covering the window.

Scarlet light brightened the room, reminding me of the red fire burning beneath the yellow flame of a candle. And it was a beautiful sight I opened.

With a sigh, I sat down near the edge of the hotel bed and watched the vision of the sun as it kissed the borderline of the horizon.

Most people find this particular scene fascinating. Breath-taking. Some fall in love with it. And then, there are few like me who don't.

But even then, I still found myself sitting and watching for minutes without moving or thinking. And it was in these quiet, few seconds that I feel at peace — a very much short glimpse of both heaven and hell.

And then, there's none but oblivion and a dead weight on my chest.

Nowadays, I think there's nothing I can deem permanent. All was fading. Slow, but eventually, they go. Nothing ever stayed — only that sense of . . . losing.

I stopped racing more than months ago. No one heard of me ever again since I won the World Cup race organized by both Drei Smith and Chase.

And so what did I do for the last months? Even if I myself is not sure about it.

For six months, my life has been like a big land of green grass covered in a thick white snow.

Once it was alive and breathing, now it was nothing but cold and grey. Empty as far as the eyes can see. No colors. No signs of life. It's just white and pale.