Jin [SM]

[1]

[ elara ]

I never liked the color pink. I never liked birthdays. God, I hated cake.

I just never knew how dangerous the pretty pink "17" candle could be.

The moment never leaves my head. So vivid and real. It gets difficult to breathe. The air, suddenly thick with acrid fumes as I struggle to realize what was happening.

No. I knew it was happening...so why didn't I move?

The panic sets in. The flames were unforgiving. It devoured everything in its path, reducing cherished belongings and memories to mere ashes.

All because I wanted them to be with us for once.

But it wasn't the type of warmth I was looking for. This was suffocating. One meant for destruction and all I could do was stand in the middle of the room, frozen as the fire danced and smoke filled my lungs.

It's too late. Even if they wanted to be there they couldn't.

My skin burned, snapping me out my daze but I was unable to move. The pain lingered. Every breath felt like inhaling fire, my lungs begging for relief until my older brother was in sight. He coughed intensely, searching for me.

I saw him, why didn't I move closer?

"Elle! Where are you?! Elle come on- please where are you," he panicked, "Elle!"

"Elle! Shit arghh," He cried in pain.

"Elle!"

"Elle," Robert's voice snapped me out of my daydream, "what's wrong? You're breathing really hard," he turned his attention to where I was staring off. Three guys surrounding a fire barrel for warmth. I didn't know people still did that...

I moved my face away from the window, realizing how much my breath had fogged up the glass. I apologized, "Did you ask me something?"

"No I didn't." He said, looking at me unsurely. Even my brothers looked at me like that. Like I was someone to be worried about, fragile. Like something was wrong with me.

The light finally turned green and I stayed silent. Robert was now 54 and had been working for our family since Ace was just a baby.  I honestly feel bad, but he refuses to stop. I'm grateful for him and his life stories which are just endless. That says a lot because Ace is 30. At this point I think he's just a really good storyteller and we all believe his bluffs.

Ace was throwing an intense rager at the Creedmore House in celebration of our parents. By intense rager I mean 40-60 year olds who have worked with them, and business partners of course.

The Astors. They're sophisticated, elegant, and intelligent. Parents killed in a plane accident. All confidential information. Yeah. Bullshit. The story just didn't add up.

Robert stopped right in front and opened the door for me before going to park.

I knew I should've just slept on the damn plane. I had forgotten that Ace was holding this gathering, hence why I had to cut off the London trip so early. The thought that I was going to knockout as soon as I got home, went out the window.