Chapter Nine: Yoon.

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    "Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children."

                                            -Eric Draven (William Thackery)

The gentle rumble of the washing machine was always oddly associated with great aroma's from the kitchen. This is because mama always loves to cook dinner while she does our laundry with care. She always cares so much. Our dandelion curtains are spread, wide open and releasing warm sunlight into the kitchen. I don't really understand how I got here, but I'm enjoying myself too much to panic. "Hey, (Y/n.)!" Yoonbum beams as he slides a picture he colored to me from across the table. "Uhhh... Thanks Yoonbum!" I smiled benignly. He tilts his head to the side in confusion and it is only then that I realize he's a child. Soft dark locks, and porcelain face. "Yoon... Bum....?" He seems dumbfounded. I understand why now. I called him Yoonbum instead of Yoon. When we were children I only ever called him Yoon. Yoonbum seems foreign and formal to my young brain. 

     "Do you wanna go outside and play before Auntie's done with dinner?" He inquired. I nod slowly and then her hand touches my shoulder gently and I can feel my heart stop beating. Stop beating and start breaking. "Mama..." I whisper quietly as I slowly turn my head to look up at her. She's radiant and her hand on my shoulder is the embodiment of magic. The light from outside is absorbed by her auburn hair and her affectionate eyes are making me feel at home. I want to cry, but I can't. My eyes can't possibly cry, but my heart can. She's here. After everything mama's here. "Of course," She states, "You children go out and play while I finish up in here!" She grins playfully as she gives me a gentle squeeze and her dress sways as she walks back over to the stove. I'm trying to claw my body from the chair so I can sprint over and wrap my child-like arms around her waist, but my earth had different plans. I stood up, pushed my chair in, and ran outside with Yoon to go play. I can feel my body falling apart as I walk away from her, unable to turn and go back. 

We escape into the sun and my ten year old shadow is free. My bare feet are stomping through the grass and the dew as I lock arms with my best friend. He throws his head back in laughter as the wind yanks his hair back. We run and run until my legs ache and my hearts jumping out of my chest. We collapse onto the soil and start to crack up. He rolls over and makes amused eye contact with me.  Losing myself, I sit up and I feel my giggles dissolve. "Yoon..." I cooed gently as I softly placed my tiny palm on his calf. "Your ankles...." I breathed faintly. His lens zoom in on the swollen, purplish black limbs. "Oh." He didn't seem to be in any kind of pain. "They're swollen again." I knew that he had always been a fragile child, that's why play fighting hadn't been an option since I had accidently broken his arm when we were even younger. "Must have been running too hard." He replied sheepishly but kept grinning at me innocently. "Ya know, when I grow up, I hope I can find a wife who knows how to deal with me." He began. I internally frowned knowing that eventually he would have no desire for a wife, or desire for a perfect family. "Yoon, you're great! If you can't find a wife then that's just because nobody is good enough for you!" 

He smiled thankfully. We heard the dying engine of a car and I spotted a white GMC parked in the drive-way and my stomach churned. Before the driver stepped out, I woke up.

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