Between Footsteps| p.jm

THIRTY| -- .. .-. .-. --- .-.

Language?

It was no shocker that every number of the Between looked different. Different skin tones, ethnicities, hair colors, etc. But... there was one thing that wasn't different, and that was the communication.

Jimin and Hun looked very different, and while your memories of your personal past life were gone, there were staples of life you still understood. For one, items. You remembered that you needed clothes, and had to brush your hair. For another, you remembered the concept of the sun, and how to walk.

For another yet, you apparently remembered countries of origin. While it was only a guess, Jimin possessed features that seemed Korean, while Hun looked more American or European. While interchangeably anyone of any ethnicity can grow up anywhere... it was certainly odd that everyone perfectly understood one another without any sort of language barrier in the Between.

There was too much for you to take in at once, so you quickly shook your head and waved your hands for a moment in order to get the boy to stop talking. If he continued on, you'd need more things to process, so you needed to slow down.

"W-Wait," You stammered, Hun looking a bit displeased with your constant confusion. "So, not only do you have your memories, but you're saying you can tell that we're all talking some language that's universal so we can all understand each other?"

The boy nodded, his brown hair moving with him. His smudged and pinkened skin caught your attention before looking into his brown eyes.

"So, it's better here," He concluded.

These words shook you to your core. For a child who remembered his life and could compare it to the Between, saying it was better to be dead than alive was haunting and made you tremble.

"My name isn't 100, but it isn't Hun either." He confessed, using a finger to trace the dirt of the floor, "But I like Hun better than the name my parents gave me. None of the other kids liked my real name either. It was too different."

He looked away, and your eyes trailed towards the glass littered on the floor beneath the tent flap. Your mind wandered to the curtain and the time you would give anything to see behind it. Now, you were just as curious, but not in an excited way. You dreaded knowing what Hun was going through, but for his sake, had to know equally as much.

Bad memories.

"Hun, you promised we'd talk through everything, right?" Your throat was dry. "So, tell me about yourself. What do you remember? I want to help you in any way that I can, so please, keep communicating with me. Don't run anymore."

For some reason, his eyes seemed rather broken. What had he said earlier about everyone's eyes in the Between? They looked sad and hopeless. But, even under the brokenness, he still had that twinge of hope that every child should have. That, in return, gave you hope too.

"Just... don't decide you don't care about me anymore after this," He begged, an edge to his voice that held a sort of warning and fear. "Please, don't leave me here alone. I was scared and didn't want to trust you, but you are being nice to me and my guardian angel said I should give you a chance. So please, don't forget about me."

"I won't," You were quick to agree, jaw clenched as you felt awkward but determined. He didn't seem to want physical touch or a hug as most 10 year old boys usually rejected such things, but he now looked more hopeful just hearing your promise.

You clearly weren't good with kids, but you were determined to be good with this one.

"Alright," He played with his fingers before quickly pushing himself up off the floor and facing the tent flap. "This way then, I guess I should just show you."