Fate. Perhaps a topic that might apply to unforgettable heroes of the Golden Ages, to great leaders that lead a ludicrous amount of soldiers to success, to those who are handpicked by the Gods and have never met with despair. It is not a concept I am familiar with - never one I lose sleep over. Life has never introduced it to me, all I have ever known has been tainted. My mind has always been preoccupied with more unfortunate topics, worries that tower one another like waves of a tsunami - huge motions crashing against the pillars of my mind, erasing any possibility of coherence.
I suppose not all has been bad, there are certain things not even life can tear away from an individual. Hope is one of them. Survival instincts. The need to persevere, to not drown or burn away. I continue to stand in this world because even in the worst moments, there is something that belongs solely to me. The manifestation of a dream that once did not belong to me, but to the one person who has loved me right. My father always dreamed of his own restaurant. Of a grand opening, filled with flashing lights and the ambience only his music could bring. I continue to breathe air into my tired lungs, because he gave up his last exhale to ensure I could. It brings me to the present, to the dilemma that haunts me. My restaurant, my pride and joy. I could not find a single person to close, and as the owner that was a direct translation to having to do it myself. Any person who knew me would have never hesitated to allow me a chance to do what I loved most, knowing the significance the locale held for me. He, however, has never understood. If there is one thing the people's beloved fate has always ensured, was that my life was tangled with only the worst aspects of the world. So, there is a he. He, who would rather convince himself I am out betraying whatever joke of a relationship we have- doing the unthinkable, something I would never dream of doing. I knew that this time, even if I tried to voice the circumstances, it would be worse. I would experience a taste of hell tonight. Too familiar, and undoubtedly expected. The last time I had to perform my duty, he had thrown my phone against our bedroom walls in retaliation. In his own rage, his allconsuming emotion, he had tainted my skin. Rage was not unfamiliar, it was something he often loved to take out on me. But that did not mean it was welcome, familiarity was not always comforting. Due to his outburst, I had no way of informing him of the delay I would experience tonight. Jimin, my right hand man, was supposed to close tonight. But, he had a date he had forgotten to inform me of, not that it was a problem. I would rather break my own hand than reach out and disturb his chance at a love he so desperately deserved - and one I would sell my soul for.
I considered the possibility of closing early tonight, as the locale felt like a ghost town. Perhaps I could catch the next bus, try to save myself from the neverending pain I was always experiencing. Not thinking of the duties, but rather functioning solely on wanting to escape my internal hell, I walked to the front door. Before I could exit, however, I was met with the sound of the bell. A man had walked in, he was handsome. His hair was trimmed perfectly, black bangs falling over honey-colored eyes. He wore casual clothes, protecting him from the harsh spring rainstorms. Our eyes met momentarily, and he frowned as he scanned my appearance. Ignoring the glance, this time accepting the normalcy of it, I managed to write down his order, making sure to be cordial and ensure he felt the welcoming aura I tried to expel. Before I could go drop off his ticket at the kitchen and work on preparing it, I felt a warm hand encircling my thin wrist.
"Hey, I know it might not be my place to ask but - are you okay?" He whispered, his voice bordering on gravely. His eyes scanned the space we were in, as if worried someone would hear him. The confusion and panic must have shown on my face, as he mirrored my expression and pointed to my chest. With a simple glance down, I felt the air expelling itself from my lungs, I heard nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat.
'Oh, how stupid can you be?' I had not realized, through my own haze of thoughts, that the shirt I wore had dropped ever so slightly. Part of my collarbone area was exposed, and with that revelation were the violet and yellow bruises that trailed along my chest. In a rush to speak, to explain something so that this stranger asked nothing further, my voice betrayed me. My vocal chords shut down, the strings tightening so much I felt as though I was suffocating. I did not realize the salty droplets that had begun cascading down my cheeks until I felt warmth enveloping me completely, processing how the sweater that covered the shoulder protecting me was getting soaked with tears. The comfort did not last. As soon as I was embraced, I was met with a withering cold, and the panic still consumed the corners of my mind.
"You whore. I knew you were cheating on me, and inside your 'dear father's restaurant'," He mocked. "I knew this was a waste of time, I knew you were nothing but a disgusting piece of shi-" His revolting voice was interrupted by the sound of bones cracking, and a loud crash. Thankfully, the sounds startled me back into reality. He was on the floor, laying amongst the hostess stand at the front of the restaurant - the one filled with trinkets my father once owned, I saw the remnants of some scattered over the bloodied floor. My chest compressed with fear, but once again, for the third time in this godforsaken night, I was whisked away like I was never there. I processed nothing, stilled and lost, until the coldness of outside enveloped me completely. It was a strange feeling, losing myself and being forced back into a reality I hated to be in. I stared into my sacred place, the one I managed to achieve with sweat and tears, the one thing I thanked fate for. And, in that moment, I knew it had been tainted with terrifying memories. Something I had worked so hard to make my own was once more lost to the unfortunate experiences of life. Of my life. The tears continued, as if they had ever stopped. It felt like the river Styx was flowing down my face, coating every feature with the screams of the damned souls. My knees buckled beneath me as the police sirens filled my ears, bringing me only to the darkest parts of my path.
As my lungs collapsed, I was gently brought to a standing position. I felt my legs walk forward with continuous effort, temporarily blinded as my despair left my body in the form of droplets. A force tightened around me, and for once, I felt as though I could breathe. Like that push was enough to force the air into my lungs, and made sure the last of my tears had left me. Clarity consumed me. I could only lean into the bits of affection I had been so starved from.
"Cry, if you need to. Just know he is not a concern anymore, and I am here." Explained the angelical voice, the one belonging to my hero. Perhaps he was one of the heroes from the stories, perhaps he is the great leader, and this was his act of leading an army. With the little energy in my bones, right before the lethargy completely seized me, I found his hand and squeezed. It was an act of gratitude, a silent thank you. The dam of feeling within me tightened, and I felt in control of myself as I saw Sungho dragged to the police car. His face was bloodied, nose and lips covered with blood. In that moment, I realized just how much I despised him. How dead my love for him was, already six feet under and withering under a flaming sun. Its gravestone marked the date as the one where he first introduced me to the nauseating person he was.
Unbeknown to me, I squeezed onto the beautiful stranger tighter. It did not register to me, until he returned the sentiment with more strength. Nevertheless he stared ahead, staring at a mirror of him that wore a police uniform. Twins, having a silent conversation. "May I know your name?" I asked, after moments of staring and only after I knew my voice would not fail me.
He looked rather startled, and it dawned on me that I had not spoken at all in his presence before this, "Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you...Jungkook." I let out a small smile as he stared down at where our hands met.
"Thank you, for saving me." I said, as I felt the tension I had been carrying for years leaving me all at once. I felt the lethargy leave my bones, I felt the haze within my mind clear up. For once - there was no race in my brain, thoughts sorted themselves carefully at their own accord. The bruises felt foreign, like I had never known them. His touch was not burned into my skin.
"We're even." He said, smiling at me like he had known me all my life. And he had. My mind felt its final puzzle piece sort itself out, and it did feel like a tsunami of reminders - but not suffocating, rather amazing. Those pretty eyes, covered by bangs, and blurred with tears. Scuffed shoes hidden underneath a bathroom stall. And my own words, my voice echoing through the small space, comforting him in all the ways I knew how. I smiled once, and motioned towards my restaurant. I knew there was so much to do, but as he held up his hand at his twin, I knew it could wait a moment.
This was fate.
