Memento mori || Jongsang ✓

2| Bereft

It doesn't take more than a glimpse out of the window for Yeosang to get distracted by the weather's threatening bearings. Goosebumps spread across his skin and long forgotten are his mother's words about the preparation of the supposed marriage. The view regards him nothing anyway, and through the last couple of days, has his belief definitely not changed any bit. He hates everything about it, and he feels terribly guilty knowing to dismay the girl with his unengaged approach. That is what possibilities Wooyoung has shown him through the world of his; that women don't awaken his interests as much as men do. Yeosang knows that his beliefs don't matter, however, and if he ever will find the courage to voice them, he can't think of anything other than his own head hanging from a pedestal. He would be killed right away.

"Kang Yeosang! Are you even listening to what I speak of? I won't be telling you all this information another time, so if you don't very soon start taking any interest in this, will I make sure to cut down all outdoor activities!"

The boy turns his head at the tone of his mother's declaration and his eyes droop to the wooden table he currently sits at. He can feel the dig of the milady's eyes on him, and Yeosang suddenly wants to turn away from this situation, but he can't.

"I apologize, eomma, I-I just think that I am not ready yet," Yeosang admits true to his feelings and lets him fall a bit more.

In several seconds, he doesn't hear a sound from the woman in the same room as him, but then she draws a sharp amount of air in and rounds the table before suddenly grabbing his clothes. Yeosang's sight flies up in fear and the stone-cold eyes hit him.

"In no way, do you have any opinion on this. How dare you say you're not ready yet! You turn nineteen in a few days, you're a man, Yeosang!", her dainty fingers tear his head backward until she hovers over his seat and sneers the last words out, "so try act like one instead of scurrying away every time you face the smallest difficulty."

The woman's chest is heaving and sinking from the remaining rage that she still cages, but Yeosang still sees all the emotions spill from her eyes that he is forced to stare right into. If he takes as much as a glance away, will his cheek sting for the rest of the day. But Yeosang also knows that if he doesn't answer her very soon, then he will be locked inside his chamber until he somehow figures out how to take responsibility for his own life.

Still, the boy simply is at a loss of words, and so, his mother hits the side of his head with a flat hand and leaves the room for him to sit and feel how blood spills under his skin from the harsh impact. When the heavy wooden door is shut close, Yeosang draws a hand up to the red hand mark that burns his cheek very uncomfortable and very carefully tries to cool the strike with his slightly low-tempered digits. It pulls at his heart to know that his mother is right for what she says, and in a swirl of thoughts, he thinks he in some way deserved the pain. The boy bites his bottom lip when the shadow of pricking tears swell in his eyes and only evince his mother's remark even more clearly. Yeosang is not manly enough. He is letting emotions rule over his acts and thus forcing himself to stand fragile and vulnerable, and too feminine.

Yeosang's breath is wavy when he draws in the air and gets up from the seat and hurries away from the toxic atmosphere that seems to follow him around wherever he goes. His feet seek the only place where he knows he can be safe in those properties. The path through the whole west side is known for him, but far from soothing. Yeosang's footsteps carry on hollowness like they don't exist as they should and his body tense at the candle that suddenly blows out from the candlestick that is placed in a dull windowsill. For a moment he thinks he is cursed.

Nervously, he drags his hand to the doorknob and lets himself into his chamber before quickly shutting the door closed again. The room screams in silence and when Yeosang turns around at his feet his leather shoes squeak against the raw stone floor. No warmth is flowing in this part of the building and the boy does what makes the most sense for him at that given moment. The closet still stands tall against the wall and Yeosang opens it effortlessly and stares into the piles of clothes as his mind chases him to shift out of the attire he wears. His fingers reach for the laces in the chest part of his deep green shirt and not long after it all falls to the floor and he hastens into more comfortable garments.