ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᶠᵉ · Y/n story by @dyllpickles

The air in the room is stale with the smell of cardboard and old packing paper. Dust motes swim through the weak afternoon light filtering through the wide living room windows. Boxes upon boxes are stacked haphazardly against the walls, some taped shut, some spilling out the contents of a life being transplanted.

Han Ji-u

a weary, teasing yell Again? Han Jisung, can't you keep her on a leash!?

The words hit him like a bucket of cold water. The same words. The same tone. The same house. The same boxes. The same day, looping back like a skipping record—fourth time now, and still the same reel playing.

Han Mi-yeong

a warm chuckle from the living room, the shuffling sound of her unpacking a box of kitchenware Ji-u, dear, cut him some slack. He couldn't get to her in time.

His parents speak about it like it's a minor inconvenience. Like his entire existence isn't a broken compass spinning between the same two points, over and over. A small, bitter part of him wonders if they've grown numb to it—his deaths, your deaths, the whole exhausting carousel of it all.

Han Ji-u

scoffs Yah, Han Jisung. You better keep her safe. She's as dumb as a rock.

Despite everything, a smile tugs at his lips. It's weak, fragile, like a bruise. He breathes out slowly, feeling the familiar ache settle into his bones. The ache of knowing. The ache of expecting.

Han Jisung

sputters nervously What—How was I supposed to know she was willing to run into the road for a cat?

The silence stretches for half a heartbeat.