DEEP

6. ΠΡΟΘΕΣΗ

They sit across from each other in silence. The detective doesn't meet his eyes.

Donghyuk let's himself look.

Your face is sallow, yellow and sick looking. Your eyes are rimmed purple, the left one barely opening from the swelling. Your lips are dry and cracked, dry blood mending the gashes where they split. Purples and reds blush across your face, anywhere there's skin really. Donghyuk makes out angry red marks around your throat, the harsh outlines of fingers.

"Do you recognize me?"

You don't flinch when the silence breaks. "Yes."

Your voice is strained and rough. You cough. Donghyuk slides the glass of water on the table closer to you. Your eyes dart to his hand, watch as his fingers nudge the plastic forward, when they disappear underneath the table. You don't drink.

Donghyuk leans back into his chair. "Do you know who I am?"

"Not anymore."

Donghyuk's fingers twitch under the table. "Do you know my name?"

There's a pause, and you just stare at the plastic glass. You lift your gaze, and Donghyuk feels something twist in his stomach when your eyes meet.

"Lee Donghyuk." You pause. "Haechan."

Donghyuk looks into your eyes. Even half shut, he can make out their warmth, the softness with which they regard him. He breaks first, moves his gaze down to the familiar scar on the detective's nose.

"Do you know who I am?"

Donghyuk looks up at you in front of him quickly, caught off guard by the question. He feels something flutter in his chest.

"(Y/F/N)."

You hold his gaze. "Do you remember me?"

Donghyuk doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

---

11 and 11.

It's winter break.

She loves this time of year. She loves going to pick the tree with all the children, sit next to Haechan on the bus as they all holler along to sweet holiday tunes. She loves watching The Polar Express and A Christmas Carol on movie nights; except Donghyuk's afraid of ghosts so she makes sure the older boy is tucked close to her side under their shared blanket, arms linked. She loves the smell of Ms. Choi's baking, cinnamon and cocoa wafting up to their dorms and sinking into their sheets. She loves going to the beach, a tradition Ms. Choi has with the boys because, although it is December and the water freezing, Jeju days radiate warmth and sun and yellow and it doesn't hurt to get your feet a little wet. She loves pretending the sand is snow; have snowball fights with the other kids, Donghyuk on her team, until the sun has almost set and calm evening waves blow cool salty breezes their way.

She isn't so sure why the same happiness she remember evades her this year. Perhaps it's the empty seat next to her on the bus, when How the Grinch Stole Christmas is chosen for movie night (she finds the Grinch and the idea of a stolen Christmas frightening). Maybe it was her coming down late for gingerbread and milk, no child having saved her a cookie. Maybe it was the water being just right this year, having to build a sand-snowman by herself while the others swam and splashed.

She slinks down the stairs, socked feet making no sound. She stands in the doorway of the common room, watches the children laugh when the crook in the television slips over the trap Dennis had set. He watches Donghyuk laugh, surrounded by the other kids, his body shaking and eyes curving.