daybreak || minsung

Epilogue 3

~ Part 1 ~

The sky was grey but the light was silver, shining onto the lake, the dock. Jisung was hunkered over behind me, attaching a float to his line and muttering so quietly that only I could hear. I was skewering a floppy worm onto my hook, awkwardly holding the fishing rod between my legs.

"Let me get that, Minho," Charlie said.

I gave him the rod. "Thanks." I sat crosslegged and watched him. He was confident here, not blustery or indecisive. I hadn't noticed it when we'd used to go fishing. (I'd been preoccupied. Do not let go when you cast, do not let go when you cast...)

Charlie gave the baited-up rod back to me, and quickly looked away. I pushed my sunglasses up my nose — it freaked him out, my amber eyes, the way they ticked around — and adjusted the scarf around my neck, hiding my scars.

I was painfully aware of the routine Charlie had adopted after I'd died. Jisung told me when Charlie missed me, felt the most guilty. Changbin could feel his sorrow every time he came near him. Felix told me he would stand outside the cemetery, not passing the gates, too afraid. His only solace was Billy Black — who was more than just a solace to him, I had learned.

Humans couldn't know about vampires — that was the problem, the reason I hadn't told him. I had waited years, considering it, sitting with the wound that, indeed, had never healed.

Any sane person would have demanded an explanation — having come face to face with their dead child, who was somehow still alive, who now had eyes like gold and an alienness they couldn't quite place.

Charlie wasn't sane, and he didn't ask questions. He had been given back what he'd lost, and he accepted me, hugged me, though I was hesitant and cold to the touch.

It was a weekly thing, fishing together. It was always quiet, the only words 'hello,' 'goodbye,' and the very rare 'I got one!' Jisung was usually there with us — which he complained about often. There was an awkward, silent distrust between them. Charlie blamed him for my death, suspected he was a part of it, perhaps even the cause of it, and Jisung agreed with him.

I wanted Jisung there because he was a buffer. My relationship with Charlie had never been easy, and now there was this constant elephant in the room. That I had faked my own death, let him and my mother believe I was dead for years — while I was really living with my boyfriend less than ten miles away. The guilt felt as real as my arms and legs.

I was determined to tell my mom as well. She and Phil planned to visit Forks — to visit Charlie — in the next few weeks. I was both excited and anxious; our relationship was even more of a minefield, and she was definitely going to want answers.

Charlie sent his line splashing into the water with a satisfying little drop. I mimicked him. Compared to him, it looked inelegant.

"You okay, Jisung?" I asked. I turned and saw he had given up, collapsed onto his back with a discouraged expression.

"I'm fine, love." He lowered his voice so Charlie couldn't hear. "Talk to him."

"We don't really talk about things. It's normal."

"He wants to talk, Minho."

I blinked. "That's what he's thinking?"

Jisung nodded, gestured toward Charlie. I peeked at him. He was silent, staring at the still, glittering water. I casually tugged on my line a few times.

"There're fish down there," I said.

He looked down for a minute, past the dock and into the water, and then harrumphed in agreement.