vớ vẩn

chap 12

The cold February air tastes clean in Seokjin's lungs when he inhales deeply, looking up at the sky that is devoid of clouds. It's bright and it's blue but it's cold and there's a certain dark and oppressing gloom in the atmosphere as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his long coat. There isn't another soul in the cemetery, Seokjin is by himself and surrounded by graves. He makes his way through, slowly but purposefully, following a path he's only recently had to familiarise himself with, but has already memorised.

It's like his feet take him there. He doesn't quite remember where his father and stepfather are buried but he knows that he has those locations written down somewhere if he wanted to find them. His mother's grave, however, is a memory deeply rooted into his being like it's been there all along, like it's a part of him now, like it's always been a part of him. He arrives at the grave and squats down in front of it like it's second nature, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. He holds the breath in his lungs for a long time before he releases it.

"Mom," he begins quietly. "I don't know what to do," he laments as he stares at the headstone. "Am I shooting myself in the foot by staying quiet? Would things be better if I say something?"

The cold winter air whips up slightly, blowing on some of Seokjin's hair. He licks his lips.

"I'm disappointing everyone. And I keep telling myself that it's fine because I'm keeping them safe, but I don't know if that's the case, anymore."

His mother doesn't respond.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm on the right track, and I feel like I'm fierce enough to save them. But sometimes I feel like I'm stranded on an island and it's only a matter of time until a wave comes and knocks me off my feet."

He sighs and looks down at the earth, and tries to find purchase in the soft, unreliable sand under his feet. He can try as hard as he likes, but he isn't going to find stability. The numbers he was once certain was set in stone are now as fickle and untrustworthy as the sand that betrays him.

"Please tell me what to do, mom," he implores, biting down on his lip. "I don't think I can do this alone."

Seokjin remains squatting in front of his mother's grave, eyelashes wet, until his feet start to hurt. He cranes his head back, looks up at the bright blue sky, and he parts his lips. Pulls in a long, deep inhale. Blinks away the last few salty tears left in his eyes before rubbing them lightly and pushing himself up on his feet. He bids his farewell to his mother's grave.

Then, he finally acknowledges the bouquet of red spider lilies someone had laid down for his mother, sitting atop the grave. He exhales lightly as he reaches down and picks it up.

The bouquet gets haphazardly thrown into the passenger seat when he climbs into his car to drive back to his apartment.

The next day, he returns to the cemetery after work. There's a fresh bouquet of red spider lilies laid down on his mother's grave. Seokjin presses his lips together as he stares at it, sticking out like a sore thumb with it's bright and blood-red petals. Seokjin was right. The bouquet that he'd found the day before was fresh, which meant that someone had only just placed it by the grave.

Either it was a coincidence that Seokjin had visited his mother's grave right after someone laid the flowers down, or they've been returning every day to put out new flowers.

And the bouquet in front of Seokjin's eyes are definitely new.

The following day Seokjin wakes up earlier than usual and drives by the cemetery, paying a quick visit to his mother's grave. He doesn't find any flowers.

After work, he makes a stop at the cemetery, and surely enough he finds a bouquet of red spider lilies.

"Mom," he laments that evening, his head hanging low and desolate. His hair hangs in front of his face but he keeps his eyes on the ground in front of him. "Mom, I'm getting desperate. Please tell me what I'm supposed to do."