BOY SCOUT. － s.yh + j.jh

1: reminiscent

Life is cruel, Yoonoh discerned after hearing the news. Somehow, the more you love something, the greater the possibility is of it being taken away. Yoonoh was no fool. He may have been naïve, which was then followed by a brief phase of denial, but he was quick to understand that certain things just couldn't be changed.

Two weeks were all he was given. Was it selfish of him to ask for more, mentally plead to whatever listening higher entity to give him time? Maybe a whole new chance entirely. Perhaps the power to reverse the years and do things differently. But again, Yoonoh wasn't a fool. He knew that such things wouldn't happen and it was pathetic of him to even long for them to do so. No, rather he should focus on the other instead of himself.

He held his journal with tense hands, it heavy in his grasp, weighing his options. Of course, he couldn't have had anyone get hold of it and think it to be a diary so young-him, back when he had first started it, had made sure it had a black cover with a random football team's logo on the front, tattered rims and scribbled on front pages, inconspicuous and bland in appearance. He wanted to hide the fact that with a couple flip-throughs one would reveal his chicken-scratch written, most personal feelings and revelations, and he had decided he had done a great job at doing so. Now, at seventeen years of age, he understood that, if anything, his work was mediocre. Still, looking back at it made him smile, even if with an unmistakable sombre tint to it.

His fingertips traced the peeled off bits of the stamped on logo, almost hesitating doing as a whisper told him prior to caving in and releasing a breath of resignation.

Yoonoh took that one step closer to his bed and sat on its edge, glancing at the journal he held on his lap for a moment extra until he decided that going through it wouldn't be as terrible as another warning voice told him, that it could be his way of saying farewell.

He flipped past the first few pages he knew were simply doodles or random words, and stopped as he reached the fifth.

There, in his twelve-year-old, messy hangul writing, came the sign that the start of his story was about to begin.

This belongs to Jung Yoonoh.
If you aren't me, stop being nosey!!
Put this back where you found it and pretend you never saw it! (please)

⟻⊗⟼

the chapters get progressively longer lol
anyway thanks for reading!
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