𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄. the smile has left your eyes
❨ gen v ❩
GRIEF CAME IN WAVES, LITTLE ONES. AT FIRST, THEY WERE so strong that Miyeon felt swept away. They came at such random moments, replacing a feeling of normalcy with familiar tears. Yet in time those waves would lessen and let the good memories flood in instead, they allowed for waves of smiles and warmth, those funny or sweet things that were said.
When you have ridden the waves of grief you will see that you have a strong, strong heart. You will see that the pain is a witness to the loving bond that survives the passing.
After her parents' disappearance, her heart broke and she bled an ocean through her eyes. Her soul felt wafer thin. Her body trembled and chilled. And she learned more about pain than she'd ever wanted to know.
Sometimes their memory made her melancholy, her parents ― were fiercely loyal and overprotective. The wish for them to still be alive filled her with such rage and bitterness that she thought she would explode. One day she would grieve for them, but first, she would have to accept they were really gone ― and though her sister and herself held a funeral there was still a part of her that held that memory back.
Grief had a way of removing oneself from the world and it took real strength to reconnect and weave themself anew into the fabric of living, to give them a chance at future happiness.
"When you think about what happened to them, what do you imagine?"
"I think about a lot of things," Miyeon said. "I think it's not fair that they're gone. How they had their whole life ahead of them, they'll never see me enter The Seven, never walk me down the aisle. How it's not fair for Joowon to grow up without a mother and father, to be looking for them in the crowd when she walks on that stage for her high school graduation."
The choice to take therapy was brave, for it is a new start in the battle of the two selves, of the "two wolves," of reaching out for help to gain the upper hand and become your best self. Of course, it was her sister's idea.
"Is that all?" Ruth, her therapist, asked. "What about yourself? No one else, not even your sister. You."
Part of the art of the great therapist is being a great role model for self-control and the use of the prefrontal cortex in responding to problems rather than reacting. They show how to weave self-control, empathy, and logic to enable their client to gain a higher ability for creative shifts in perspective, thus enhancing emotional intelligence.
Miyeon liked Ruth. Some therapists were just there for the paycheck, just hanging out until retirement was feasible, but not Ruth. From the first day she walked into the door, she knew she was in good hands. There wasn't a chance in hell that her new therapist wasn't experienced at both her craft and mentoring.
She was approaching forty, she'd say, her new wrinkles showed how she smiled and laughed often; her eyes and voice were soft but with just the right blend of assertiveness and confidence to keep a class in order. She realized that the right emotional environment is key to the art of teaching. From that first day to the present day, Miyeon ❨ debatably, for the first time ever since the funeral ❩ was happy every single day.
"I feel like I'm going crazy," She muttered, and then finally spit it out. "I'm nothing special. I never asked for this, I didn't want one." She wanted Ruth to absolve her. She wanted her to make it all go away. "I can't help but think, maybe if they hadn't given me compound v, I wouldn't be living with so much pressure. I could've had a normal life and..."
She leaves out the part where it might've been her instead. How cliché.
"And?" she questioned, shaking her head.
They sit quietly for a moment, and she almost says it. Part of her is dying to say it, just to release it, she thinks she would've disappeared instead. She'd find out her parents' plan and she intercepts last minute. But she swallows the words until they're buried deep. This was not something she could say to Ruth, no matter what she believed.
"And I'd hate to get the pity vote if word gets out." She fibbed. "God, I hate pity," she said, leaning in closer to Ruth.
"Did you hate them before they left?"
But she doesn't answer her question. She picked at a nail, fixating on it until she pulled it back, and Ruth watched her, wondering if she'd peel the whole thing off, it looked so painful. Those long nails of hers. "Stop. You're going to make it bleed."
Miyeon almost stunned her after she said it. Isn't that what people do when they're surrounded by the unknown? They pick and pick at something until it bleeds? Until it unearths itself?
"Yeah, I did." She said. "When it was released that kids were injected and not born with powers, I was angry at them. I said horrible things."
"So shouldn't you be mad at the ones that convinced them to go through with it?" she stated. "What's the truth?"
"I am. But they're probably gone too."
"I see."
Miyeon's reaching. She could feel herself reaching for anything. For some answer that'll make this all better. Something that will make their disappearance worthwhile.
But there was nothing there.
Tears ran down her cheeks, her body curled over, and she hid her face in her sweatshirt.
"I just feel so terrible for thinking like this," she said.
Ruth stood up from her chair, and the legs of it squeaked through the cavernous room. She pulled her arm around her shoulder and gently patted.
"It's normal to feel this way, Minnie," she says. "that's the thing about grief."
"What do you do when the only person who you could talk to is gone?" She asked, quietly sobbing. Trying so hard to hold it in. Feeling so bare even in this empty room. "What happens then?"
Ruth's room was all white walls and white floors. The ceiling was surprisingly really high, and there were tons of people outside waiting for their turn, even though it was early in the day. If Miyeon listened closely she could almost hear their whispers, rustling like fabric, sinking into the whiteness of the walls.
A painting hung as far as she could see, it was mystifying
In the purples and reds of the canvas, maidens danced with animals, a tiger or something similar ❨ Miyeon, noticing it now, would describe it as a tiger if it had wings and oddly shaped strips. ❩ carrying a violin in its mouth, and two women embraced under a gigantic blazing sun.
This swarm of unrelated images was like a glimpse into a dream. The joy she felt was ferocious, and the sadness suffocatingly cold. Blue thrown onto the canvas warred with yellows approaching like tornadoes.
"You know that painting?" Miyeon spaced out when she heard Ruth's voice. When she realized what she asked her, she said yes. "What do you think when you see it?"
"I don't know," she said. Miyeon's face was even more relaxed than earlier. It was reassuring. "Did something bad happen to them?" She said cautiously.
"Mmh." Ruth nodded. "Two lovers. Something really painful happened to them. Something really sad. But know what?" Ruth interrupted, "They made it through. That's why they can live in perfect harmony. After everything, after all the pain, they made it."
She let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes. "Why?" She whispered. "Why do they get to be happy? Why can't it be a not-so-happy ending? Funny how the more you look, not just at this painting, but of anything, the more real things start looking fake."
Four figures approached from across the entrance, and from behind a crowd of party-goers ― their eyes gleamed like marbles in a firelight. Some of those around them looked to be tattered, and others dressed and groomed so well they looked as though they'd just come from church. Some visablly with sex hair, Miyeon assumed.
But they all had one thing in common ― that curled lip, exposed-incisor look of insatiable hunger for power.
A couple seated in front of them stood up and disappeared into the restrooms. Andre nudged Marie, wiggled his eyebrows, and made these very weird noises. It was dumb but Marie laughed anyway. Then she realized that, aside from her orphanage hosting mundane get-togethers, this was kind of her first time doing something normal. Like, high school, and college normal.
She hadn't gone to a club before. This club was better suited for an old Hollywood movie.
The floors were marble, and you could hear the sound of women's heels tip-tapping along. Waiters were floating around too, carrying flutes of champagne and hors d'oeuvres that Marie wasn't entirely sure how to eat. She felt like Ariel in that scene from The Little Mermaid where she uses a fork for a hairbrush. Like she'd been picked up from her life as Marie Moreau and dropped into an alternate universe of lavish food and expensive gowns. Two things she knew nothing about.
"Heads up," Andre Anderson looked over to the group, Marie still stunned. "Three o'clock." He emphasized.
The last time the four talked to Miyeon Yu was on the last day of their Sophomore year at God U. They each remembered her walking along the quad, around five p.m.
Jordan, Cate, and Luke remembered getting an earful from Andre's father about how to pose themselves in their environment, "Top five should always pose themselves as the best," he would say.
And while he was the only one talking, Miyeon was humming. She greeted people who didn't respond, and the rare times she interrupted others she uttered only exclamations, without any evident relation to what they were saying.
She laughed nervously, almost shrieked, and spoke too loudly. She was constantly gesturing, giving to each gesture such fierce determination that she seemed to want to slice in half the houses, the street, the passersby, and them.
She had changed a great deal since.
She didn't know it, but they noticed she had tried to heal all by herself. But none of them had the strength to walk up to her and she, who perhaps had the strength, didn't have the desire, didn't care who they were.
Yet they still carried all the memories, however long ago it was, and when she would go to class Cate Dunlap always tried to see her, even though, she had to admit, sometimes it was out of her way.
In the distance, Lena Jackson, a new acquaintance of Miyeon's, glided her like a waiter in a five-star restaurant and her footfalls made no sound at all. "There's nothing to be afraid of," Miyeon nodded, "Just a bunch of drunk people at a club."
Miyeon shook her head, laughing quietly at her friend. "A natural slasher setting."
Lena was a cute girl, with dark brown wavy hair and hazel eyes with green flecks. She was her perfect little friend, and as friends went on, she was the best. Miyeon would always look after her during classes and at the dorms, making sure no one picked on her. The only ones allowed to pick on her, as far as anyone was concerned, were Miyeon herself, and to a lesser extent Lena's other friends.
She was slightly protective over her. After everything that happened to her, all Miyeon wanted was for her friend to be safe.
She guessed she was just a tad bit insecure about that, after all, she was no stranger to people leaving her.
"And of course, they had to be here," Lena rolled her eyes, giving her another tug to where the bar was.
"Would you just, I don't know, let it go?" Lena sneered, pulling away and raising a finger. "Quit being a total mood killer."
Words Miyeon had never ― not even in her wildest dreams, and she had a vivid imagination ― conceived of hearing from Lena.
Looking down, she squinted her eyes, trying to search for any signs of noxious substances floating around. That would at least explain what was happening, but nope.
Nothing. Just the sounds of everyone dancing like they'd forgotten how to stand still. People were moving like their limbs were made of spaghetti and some had an epic picture of pure excitement on their faces.
She noticed some walked so differently. Some almost skipped, so exquisite about their joy of being there. Others walked as if they were boarding a badly kept bus, no more exciting than any other. Then there were the nervous ones, quick steps, and stern faces, everything about them tight and fearful.
"You okay?" A quiet voice came. "Uh... saw your friend leave and, um, I know you're friends with Luke and them, did you want to join us?" Her eyes wide, she slowly turned her head to look behind her, and shivers crawled down her spine.
Eyes growing wide, Miyeon lifted her head. Opened her mouth and then snapped it closed again.
"We're not actually friends..." She trailed off, the word leaving her in a whisper. "Sorry."
"I know you." A small grin spread on Marie's face, her eyes glittered with what looked like amusement. "Yeah, my roommate, Emma, has a picture of you in the dorm. I, um," noticed you were ranked fourth, she wanted to say. "Recognize you." her tone was laced with sincerity and interest that had her blinking.
She nodded, her lips forming a line, and an awkward silence followed.
She shook her head. "And I realize now that that sounded completely creepy I'm ―"
"No, it's okay," she says awkwardly, and Marie laughs ― one of those quiet laughs that bubbled up from your throat. She didn't know why, but she took a really good look at her.
She was tall and slender, and her hair had a dark shade of brown, it could've been borderline black in this setting, possibly lighter in the sunlight. Her hair had locs as triumphant as any storm-whipped sea. And there was something about the shape of her lips. She had pretty, well-defined lips.
"Anyways, tell your friend i said hi." Her eyebrows furrowed, "and I appreciate the invite, really, but ―"
"Tough subject?" She moved her right hand to scratch the back of her neck. "Sorry." She picked up on her hesitation and instantly felt guilty. "You don't have to tell me. But I think I'm a pretty good judge of character, they clearly miss you."
A beat. And then another. "I believe you."
"I didn't mean to channel your parents at Thanksgiving."
She laughed softly. "You could never."
"Oh." She smiled back. "Annoying parents?"
Miyeon swallowed, "Sister. And even worse Thanksgivings." She let out a small giggle. There was something about this kind of moment ― this tiny thread connecting her to a total stranger. It was the kind of thing that made the universe feel smaller, she really loved that.
Jordan Li held their breath behind pursed lips to steel herself against the gales of laughter to come. They always do. she knew what happened, Miyeon just told a lame joke and now they're bonding over it in their primmed-up dresses.
Now she's telling some lame story about her childhood, they know she is without listening to the words. Her face was lit up brighter than in a toothpaste commercial and she had that soft look on her face.
"Minnie," Marie says with a toothy smile. "Can I call you that?" She didn't know what had gotten over her, her newfound confidence, maybe it was the outfit Emma let her borrow, or the atmosphere and energy of the club, or maybe it was the molly she had taken just a few minutes ago kicking in.
Definitely the molly.
"Only my friends call me that."
"Would it be dorky to ask, can we be friends?"
Frankly, Miyeon was a bit on the fence about this whole thing.
Not because she didn't like the girl. ❨ She did, surprisingly. ❩ And not because of the truckload of obvious consequences that may come out of becoming friends with the one person at the club who was also close to her ex ones.
She was well aware, and yet none of it worried her. Or maybe it did, a tiny bit, but she could deal.
It was something else that held her back from accepting.
She didn't want to get too close. The last thing she wanted was someone to be brought into her world of the notorious and soul-sucking circle of hell that is the consequences of her power that she just couldn't seem to shake off.
Miyeon raised an eyebrow raise, she was one of those girls that made it hard to explain how perfectly an action like that could work on anyone. "Not yet." She stammered.
"Oh my God. What the hell happened?" shouts Jordan, pushing a bystander to the side as he made his way to the scene, Andre in stricken fear.
Miyeon's and Marie's heads jerked, and she nearly fell over sideways. Her gaze turned to the body standing a few feet in front of her, the woman's hand resting on her sliced artery.
She and Marie hurried to the swarm, pushing those in their way so they could be front and center.
The more Miyeon saw the two bickering about leaving the more she got angrier, at first she thought about swallowing her retort ignoring it, and moving on. But that only made it worse. Cate was fidgeting now and her eyes kept flickering to Miyeon.
"Oh my God, they're leaving. What do we do?" Marie whispered, appearing completely disoriented, and feeling useless as ever. She reached up to make sure that no loose strands of hair escaped her tight, pigtails. They hadn't, of course.
"Marie," Miyeon said behind her. At that moment her arms squeezed her, and she breathed more slowly, her body melting into her, as every muscle lost its tension. Of course they left, they always did. Miyeon cracked her knuckle ― a habit she couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how many times Luke yelled at her about how studies have shown it has caused early on-set arthritis ― and coughed softly, testing her throat. "Her soul isn't ready to part."
Marie frowned at her, her pulse quickening ― a flutter, like little bird wings trapped between her lungs. "it's too..." Her voice echoed in Marie's ears as she continued, "It's not her time, you're the only one that can help her."
The doe-eyed girl glanced up at her. Her soul.
Her soul.
Her soul.
The two stayed silent for what felt like minutes but in reality, only seconds. Then, Marie bent her knees on the floor, making her way to the woman bleeding out.
The words Miyeon said tasted sour on Marie's tongue as she turned to whisper a thank you, only to be left with a crowd of phones, no Miyeon in sight.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄
small ch just to start it out!!
can u tell i love my oc so much
!! IMPORTANT !!
so, not sure if any of u noticed but I'm writing she/they, he/they pronouns for jordan ! i figured it would be easier to recognize when they're in their masc or fem form while also being respectful to pronouns, but i'm also not too educated in that so if anyone finds it rude please please let me know!
much love,