gongstal | 168
Title: 168
Pairing: Gongchan/Krystal
Genre: romance, angst
Rating: G
On Sunday, he makes a pact with the devil.
He actually has no idea of what he’s doing. He just knows, in between the desperation and the delusions and the memories - that Soojung is coming back, just one more time. Concerns over what is morally correct, of what runs parallel with the order of nature are non-existent as Chanshik feels something burn deep inside him. He feels a little bit lighter as the pain fades away and a little empty. He doesn’t mind what he’s missing - whatever it is - what matters is Soojung. Beautiful Soojung, his Soojung. She is coming back for seven days and that is all that matters.
The fire is gone, the air is freezing now, but Soojung is standing in front of him and that is enough.
Chanshik spends the next few hours coming to terms with the reality which isn’t truly reality. He runs his gaze over her, so similar, very much the same as the last time he had seen her. Still, her hair hangs long and straight, still, her eyes meet his and she smiles the same smile. She is the same, she is the one he loves.
And when he takes her hand in his, he is convinced, utterly and completely, that this is not a dream. Soojung exists. He whispers her name.
She speaks and her voice is the same. “Chanshik. I’m sorry - for hurting you.” It’s true, she has hurt him, but it’s not her fault either.
“It’s okay,” he tells her as he savours the moment. “It doesn’t matter, you’re back.” He knows that he’s only dooming himself by saying that - they only have seven days and it is less than that already, because time moves forward with every second and every minute.
She understands that too, when the smile disappears. “I’ll be gone though.”
Chanshik doesn’t realise that she’s trying to save him. “It’s alright. You’re here now.” He is fixated on the present, on the now, when Soojung belongs to the past and the future is disappearing.
Soojung holds on a little tighter and the kiss is just as he remembers.
On Monday, they go to the convenience store.
It is wedged in between dark greys and tired greens, a white building with its own signs of exhaustion: two rickety shelves in the snacks section, a flickering fluorescent tube, graffiti on the side like a blooming flower. It is imperfect but it is equivalent to perfection.
They wander the aisles just like they used to, passing every single colour underneath the rainbow, past every pattern and font that humans have invented. There are cans, sealed and completely airtight. There are liars in the form of plastic, trapping air and less truth. It’s all very human and Chanshik can’t imagine anything else. Soojung though, feels differently now. She used to be one, but she’s gone and come back, so what is she now?
“Soojung.”
She looks up from the apples, reds, greens and even pinks lined up, “Yeah?”
Chanshik smiles. He feels ridiculous, “Nothing.” He feels alive. “I just felt like saying your name.”
She rolls her eyes. “Chanshik.”
They laugh, as if this is the way everything is supposed to be.
On Tuesday, they explore the railway.
There is essentially no reason why they should ‘explore’ it, because it is all mapped out already by its creators. Even so, they decide to enter hand in hand. They buy tickets that will reach the very end of the multicoloured lines. They blend in with the rest of the crowd that has purpose. They are free though, free to do as they please, free to live.
The first train arrives just as they step onto the platform. They are late, the doors shut as soon as they approach. It doesn’t matter though, because then they have the platform almost completely to themselves. Chanshik leads the way, footsteps echoing, until they’re out in open air. It’s not the first time he’s done this, looking at the emptiness of the rails, stretching onwards to an ostensible oblivion. He likes it, standing at the end of the platform, on the edge of wrong, on the thin line, surrounded by an almost-everywhere sky. Soojung likes it there too, but it’s her first time. She smells a little bit of everything. The car exhaust from the roads she can barely hear, the stuffy remnants of the trains. She smells the air, the blue sky and for a moment, the clouds smile at her.
They do that for every other stop they make. They get off, they miss one train, they get on the next. They are smiling the whole time, like it is the most exhilarating thing they have ever done - like it isn’t silly and childish.
Everything is beautiful when coloured in with love.
Chanshik and Soojung make it to Busan before they get on a train on route to Daegu. They get off on the ‘wrong’ stop and end up back in Seoul.
“Let’s go again.” She is smiling so wide and Chanshik truly believes that she can challenge the sun.
It is dark though, and the moon is climbing up the ladder to the centre of the sky. “One day. We’ll go another day.” Seven days is four now, but he doesn’t care. “I promise.”
“Promise?”
They pinky-promise, pinkies hooked, entwined, skin touching, breath mixing.
“Promise.”
On Wednesday, they have purpose. At least, Soojung decides that they are going to do the ‘couple-y’ things.
“We do that all the time though.” It’s true as far as Chanshik is concerned. He doesn’t like it, the ridiculous displays of affection. Does he have to whisper sweet somethings into Soojung’s ear when they walk down the street? Do they have to participate in those so-called customs? Maybe his interpretations are different. A jacket over her shoulders. Countless hours, where it is him beside her and her leaning on him.
She appreciates it, she does. Still, Soojung gives him a look. “Come on. Just this once.”
He relents because she says that. He has been avoiding it, but they are almost halfway and just this once is becoming more vivid. He looks at Soojung, precious, still-tangible Soojung, and he grants her wishes. What else is he to do? “Okay,” he smiles, like it is the most natural thing in the world. Like he isn’t being torn apart by grief and desperation as he stands beside her. Don’t leave, don’t leave me ever again. “Okay,” and that word is so inappropriate.
Soojung notices, the stiffness in his posture, even his smile. His eyes don’t shine as bright - they haven’t ever since she has returned. She notices, but she says nothing. This is their time to be happy again. She has no right - they have no right to ruin it.
It is why she smiles as he takes her hand in his, their joined limbs swinging with a natural grace as they take steps - synchronised - down a pavement they are familiar with. Soojung hasn’t been away for long, and she still remembers where the discoloured tile is, which alleyway the stray cat inhabits. She remembers too well, where Chanshik pulled her into a deep embrace on their graduation day. She remembers him holding an umbrella over her head. She remembers and tries to hold back the tears. It is not yet the end, even if the proper end has long passed. It is not the end, they have the present, they have time now. Soojung remembers and tightens her grasp on his fingers a tad more. Chanshik is precious, she thinks - knows - and that will never change.
They go everywhere Chanshik used to (and still is) uncomfortable in. The cafe with the pink strawberry-and-ribbons decorations. They go to the cute gift stores, and they get couple rings. There is the photobooth as well, which they’ve only used twice before. They don’t go to Namsan, but they settle for another spot. Secluded, secret. They buy couple locks - blue and pink. Soojung is fearless with the sharpie, writing character after character, filling the pink surface.
“Do you think I should buy another one for you?” He is only joking, but Soojung glares at him anyway.
“Meanie.”
They laugh, breath flying to the angels, and lock their souls together. Locks do not last forever, but they last long enough, Soojung reasons. Chanshik just wants forever or second best, which is life-long.
(He will get neither.)
On Thursday, they go to the park.
“Why?” Soojung asks when they’re throwing a few items into Chanshik’s leopard print backpack. She tosses in the basic necessities - food, money in the form of Chanshik’s wallet, keys. Her hand hovers over the polaroid camera a second too long, but she adds that too.
“I want to show you something,” he says simply, like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
She gives him a long look, but doesn’t say anything else about it as they start walking.
She breathes deep instead, savouring everything. The birds in the sky, the blues which map out an almost-eternity above them. The sounds of their footsteps against the pavement, each beat, a resounding rhythm.
More than anything, she doesn’t want it to end. She wants her heart to keep beating, even after it has stopped. She wants to continue the forbidden - living - but she can’t, and it’s not just consent that ties her down. Soojung wants wings, so she can fly to a future.
“Look, up there.”
She looks. She sees - broken and beautiful blue.
“Remember when we came here?”
Soojung does remember, but it was different then. It was summer, punctured with heavy rain. The leaves were brown then. Oranges, reds, a dying sun. They had held hands and stood beneath the branches with a broken umbrella, emotions mixing, hearts racing. It was chaotic, but it was precious too, so she murmurs, “Yes.” She smiles wide and feels all types of fireworks burst in her heart. It is a strange happiness, but beautiful nonetheless.
He laughs a little, his gentle and amused laugh. When he speaks though, he sounds embarassed. “May I have this dance?” He has his hand out too, and doesn’t really seem care that he looks completely inappropriate for ballroom with his high-top sneakers and backpack.
Soojung doesn’t really mind though, because they are not the conventional couple. In fact, she thinks it is adorable that Chanshik can still be embarassed about her.
They waltz, like there is no end to their world.
On Friday, they take a train, two buses, and walk until their legs are sore until they reach the beach.
Soojung seems to forget about the pain she was whining about ten seconds ago when she sees the ocean in all its blue and brilliant glory. She half-laughs and half-shouts in joy, like she is five years old again and this is the first time she’s seeing the sea (but first is about as precious as last too). Chanshik is almost in awe of her energy, but only almost, because he gets caught up in her whirlwind too.
They end up pulling off their shoes together and racing each other to the waves. They stumble often in the sand, laughing off their clumsiness. It is almost symbolic, each unstable step, each stumble, edging closer to where they are now.
And no further.
It doesn’t matter though; not in this moment, not as they splash water at each other, as they scream and yell like teenagers with each wave. They don’t run out of energy fast, but they do eventually, when the water is colder and the sun dips a little.
“How long do we have left?”
Chanshik takes that question easier than he initially expects. His heart feels hollow with every beat, and maybe the air isn’t the only thing raising goosebumps on his skin. Still, he looks back, back - at all they’ve done in the last week - and he doesn’t regret. Everything is beautiful. “Less than a day,” he says as he holds her hand tighter than he should.
She pulls in cold breaths beside him as they stand together on the sand, looking out at the ocean. The water laps at their feet. “Are you happy?”
He thinks it over, because it is a difficult question. “Am I happy?” he says, almost as if he is asking the ocean before them. There’s no way he can be sure, rather, he is feeling a lot of different things. Yes, he is happy without a doubt. Soojung has returned for a week, one beautiful week, but even if he is happy, he can’t help but feel that this happiness isn’t real. It shouldn’t feel that way, Soojung is real, their love is undeniably real. Still - it isn’t exactly right and he doesn’t feel anything but a deep and unsettling unease for that. “I’m happy,” is what he settles for, because yes, he is happy. There is just a lot of different things mixed in, like guilt and nostalgia and pain he can’t explain.
Soojung knows better to take his words at face value - there was a time when she could, but no longer. “Really?” She wants to hear what he really feels and thinks, even if there just isn’t enough time.
“Really,” he tells her, because anything else would ruin everything.
The wind picks up then, and sends her hair flying. The seagulls too, take to the skies, and they both watch in silence. The sun is sinking lower and the clouds are changing. Reds, blues, greys and purples.
“You’re beautiful.”
Soojung isn’t worried about the seagulls calling out to the gods. If anything, she is louder. “I love you.” She is not brave and nor is she elated. What she is though, is deeply in love and dedicated.
Chanshik never responds, but she knows why, and that is enough.
Saturday is their last day together.
“Good morning,” is the first thing Chanshik says that day, when the sunlight comes streaming in and the alarm clock disturbs the silence.
The sky isn’t clear. It is a blue layered with the city grey. Nevertheless, Soojung can still smell the sky through the open windows. It isn’t clean - far from it - city air is never clean. It is not like at the beach, where everything is fresh and a hint of savoury. It isn’t like on mountains, where it smells like crystal clear streams. The city is heavy, its air hangs, but still, it is beautiful in its own right. It is air that she has once breathed with Chanshik. Air that she is alive in. Now, Soojung wonders if those smells - of rain, of car exhaust, of asphalt and of pigeons - will go with her. Surely, she can have at least that, if she cannot have Chanshik. “I’m leaving today,” she tells him, as if it is news, as if they both don’t know it.
He sits beside her on the bed, fingers scrunching up the sheets beside him. “I know.” He can barely speak, now that the end is imminent. Don’t go. Don’t go. He is pleading a god that doesn’t love him. He is pleading to anybody that will listen. Stay. Stay. I love you. He pleads to a powerless Soojung who has the same wishes. Why does it end like this?
Still, she smiles and takes his hand in hers. “It’s going to be alright.”
Their fingers entwine. Hers. His. Hers. His. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“I love you, Soojung.”
“I love you. My love for you is greater than the sky.”
“Is it blue?”
“No. It’s any colour you want.”
“What if I want it to be blue?”
“Then it will be blue.”
“You’ll remember me, right?”
“I’ll never forget you.”
“Can we stay like this forever?”
“I’d like to.”
They fall asleep together, when the sky is a deep and dark blue. Together, when it is not really two separate beings, but a pair.
On Sunday morning, Chanshik wakes up and the only thing he remembers is the beating of wings and a barely-there whisper of Soojung.
Soojung, and nothing more.
Pairing: Gongchan/Krystal
Genre: romance, angst
Rating: G
On Sunday, he makes a pact with the devil.
He actually has no idea of what he’s doing. He just knows, in between the desperation and the delusions and the memories - that Soojung is coming back, just one more time. Concerns over what is morally correct, of what runs parallel with the order of nature are non-existent as Chanshik feels something burn deep inside him. He feels a little bit lighter as the pain fades away and a little empty. He doesn’t mind what he’s missing - whatever it is - what matters is Soojung. Beautiful Soojung, his Soojung. She is coming back for seven days and that is all that matters.
The fire is gone, the air is freezing now, but Soojung is standing in front of him and that is enough.
Chanshik spends the next few hours coming to terms with the reality which isn’t truly reality. He runs his gaze over her, so similar, very much the same as the last time he had seen her. Still, her hair hangs long and straight, still, her eyes meet his and she smiles the same smile. She is the same, she is the one he loves.
And when he takes her hand in his, he is convinced, utterly and completely, that this is not a dream. Soojung exists. He whispers her name.
She speaks and her voice is the same. “Chanshik. I’m sorry - for hurting you.” It’s true, she has hurt him, but it’s not her fault either.
“It’s okay,” he tells her as he savours the moment. “It doesn’t matter, you’re back.” He knows that he’s only dooming himself by saying that - they only have seven days and it is less than that already, because time moves forward with every second and every minute.
She understands that too, when the smile disappears. “I’ll be gone though.”
Chanshik doesn’t realise that she’s trying to save him. “It’s alright. You’re here now.” He is fixated on the present, on the now, when Soojung belongs to the past and the future is disappearing.
Soojung holds on a little tighter and the kiss is just as he remembers.
On Monday, they go to the convenience store.
It is wedged in between dark greys and tired greens, a white building with its own signs of exhaustion: two rickety shelves in the snacks section, a flickering fluorescent tube, graffiti on the side like a blooming flower. It is imperfect but it is equivalent to perfection.
They wander the aisles just like they used to, passing every single colour underneath the rainbow, past every pattern and font that humans have invented. There are cans, sealed and completely airtight. There are liars in the form of plastic, trapping air and less truth. It’s all very human and Chanshik can’t imagine anything else. Soojung though, feels differently now. She used to be one, but she’s gone and come back, so what is she now?
“Soojung.”
She looks up from the apples, reds, greens and even pinks lined up, “Yeah?”
Chanshik smiles. He feels ridiculous, “Nothing.” He feels alive. “I just felt like saying your name.”
She rolls her eyes. “Chanshik.”
They laugh, as if this is the way everything is supposed to be.
On Tuesday, they explore the railway.
There is essentially no reason why they should ‘explore’ it, because it is all mapped out already by its creators. Even so, they decide to enter hand in hand. They buy tickets that will reach the very end of the multicoloured lines. They blend in with the rest of the crowd that has purpose. They are free though, free to do as they please, free to live.
The first train arrives just as they step onto the platform. They are late, the doors shut as soon as they approach. It doesn’t matter though, because then they have the platform almost completely to themselves. Chanshik leads the way, footsteps echoing, until they’re out in open air. It’s not the first time he’s done this, looking at the emptiness of the rails, stretching onwards to an ostensible oblivion. He likes it, standing at the end of the platform, on the edge of wrong, on the thin line, surrounded by an almost-everywhere sky. Soojung likes it there too, but it’s her first time. She smells a little bit of everything. The car exhaust from the roads she can barely hear, the stuffy remnants of the trains. She smells the air, the blue sky and for a moment, the clouds smile at her.
They do that for every other stop they make. They get off, they miss one train, they get on the next. They are smiling the whole time, like it is the most exhilarating thing they have ever done - like it isn’t silly and childish.
Everything is beautiful when coloured in with love.
Chanshik and Soojung make it to Busan before they get on a train on route to Daegu. They get off on the ‘wrong’ stop and end up back in Seoul.
“Let’s go again.” She is smiling so wide and Chanshik truly believes that she can challenge the sun.
It is dark though, and the moon is climbing up the ladder to the centre of the sky. “One day. We’ll go another day.” Seven days is four now, but he doesn’t care. “I promise.”
“Promise?”
They pinky-promise, pinkies hooked, entwined, skin touching, breath mixing.
“Promise.”
On Wednesday, they have purpose. At least, Soojung decides that they are going to do the ‘couple-y’ things.
“We do that all the time though.” It’s true as far as Chanshik is concerned. He doesn’t like it, the ridiculous displays of affection. Does he have to whisper sweet somethings into Soojung’s ear when they walk down the street? Do they have to participate in those so-called customs? Maybe his interpretations are different. A jacket over her shoulders. Countless hours, where it is him beside her and her leaning on him.
She appreciates it, she does. Still, Soojung gives him a look. “Come on. Just this once.”
He relents because she says that. He has been avoiding it, but they are almost halfway and just this once is becoming more vivid. He looks at Soojung, precious, still-tangible Soojung, and he grants her wishes. What else is he to do? “Okay,” he smiles, like it is the most natural thing in the world. Like he isn’t being torn apart by grief and desperation as he stands beside her. Don’t leave, don’t leave me ever again. “Okay,” and that word is so inappropriate.
Soojung notices, the stiffness in his posture, even his smile. His eyes don’t shine as bright - they haven’t ever since she has returned. She notices, but she says nothing. This is their time to be happy again. She has no right - they have no right to ruin it.
It is why she smiles as he takes her hand in his, their joined limbs swinging with a natural grace as they take steps - synchronised - down a pavement they are familiar with. Soojung hasn’t been away for long, and she still remembers where the discoloured tile is, which alleyway the stray cat inhabits. She remembers too well, where Chanshik pulled her into a deep embrace on their graduation day. She remembers him holding an umbrella over her head. She remembers and tries to hold back the tears. It is not yet the end, even if the proper end has long passed. It is not the end, they have the present, they have time now. Soojung remembers and tightens her grasp on his fingers a tad more. Chanshik is precious, she thinks - knows - and that will never change.
They go everywhere Chanshik used to (and still is) uncomfortable in. The cafe with the pink strawberry-and-ribbons decorations. They go to the cute gift stores, and they get couple rings. There is the photobooth as well, which they’ve only used twice before. They don’t go to Namsan, but they settle for another spot. Secluded, secret. They buy couple locks - blue and pink. Soojung is fearless with the sharpie, writing character after character, filling the pink surface.
“Do you think I should buy another one for you?” He is only joking, but Soojung glares at him anyway.
“Meanie.”
They laugh, breath flying to the angels, and lock their souls together. Locks do not last forever, but they last long enough, Soojung reasons. Chanshik just wants forever or second best, which is life-long.
(He will get neither.)
On Thursday, they go to the park.
“Why?” Soojung asks when they’re throwing a few items into Chanshik’s leopard print backpack. She tosses in the basic necessities - food, money in the form of Chanshik’s wallet, keys. Her hand hovers over the polaroid camera a second too long, but she adds that too.
“I want to show you something,” he says simply, like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
She gives him a long look, but doesn’t say anything else about it as they start walking.
She breathes deep instead, savouring everything. The birds in the sky, the blues which map out an almost-eternity above them. The sounds of their footsteps against the pavement, each beat, a resounding rhythm.
More than anything, she doesn’t want it to end. She wants her heart to keep beating, even after it has stopped. She wants to continue the forbidden - living - but she can’t, and it’s not just consent that ties her down. Soojung wants wings, so she can fly to a future.
“Look, up there.”
She looks. She sees - broken and beautiful blue.
“Remember when we came here?”
Soojung does remember, but it was different then. It was summer, punctured with heavy rain. The leaves were brown then. Oranges, reds, a dying sun. They had held hands and stood beneath the branches with a broken umbrella, emotions mixing, hearts racing. It was chaotic, but it was precious too, so she murmurs, “Yes.” She smiles wide and feels all types of fireworks burst in her heart. It is a strange happiness, but beautiful nonetheless.
He laughs a little, his gentle and amused laugh. When he speaks though, he sounds embarassed. “May I have this dance?” He has his hand out too, and doesn’t really seem care that he looks completely inappropriate for ballroom with his high-top sneakers and backpack.
Soojung doesn’t really mind though, because they are not the conventional couple. In fact, she thinks it is adorable that Chanshik can still be embarassed about her.
They waltz, like there is no end to their world.
On Friday, they take a train, two buses, and walk until their legs are sore until they reach the beach.
Soojung seems to forget about the pain she was whining about ten seconds ago when she sees the ocean in all its blue and brilliant glory. She half-laughs and half-shouts in joy, like she is five years old again and this is the first time she’s seeing the sea (but first is about as precious as last too). Chanshik is almost in awe of her energy, but only almost, because he gets caught up in her whirlwind too.
They end up pulling off their shoes together and racing each other to the waves. They stumble often in the sand, laughing off their clumsiness. It is almost symbolic, each unstable step, each stumble, edging closer to where they are now.
And no further.
It doesn’t matter though; not in this moment, not as they splash water at each other, as they scream and yell like teenagers with each wave. They don’t run out of energy fast, but they do eventually, when the water is colder and the sun dips a little.
“How long do we have left?”
Chanshik takes that question easier than he initially expects. His heart feels hollow with every beat, and maybe the air isn’t the only thing raising goosebumps on his skin. Still, he looks back, back - at all they’ve done in the last week - and he doesn’t regret. Everything is beautiful. “Less than a day,” he says as he holds her hand tighter than he should.
She pulls in cold breaths beside him as they stand together on the sand, looking out at the ocean. The water laps at their feet. “Are you happy?”
He thinks it over, because it is a difficult question. “Am I happy?” he says, almost as if he is asking the ocean before them. There’s no way he can be sure, rather, he is feeling a lot of different things. Yes, he is happy without a doubt. Soojung has returned for a week, one beautiful week, but even if he is happy, he can’t help but feel that this happiness isn’t real. It shouldn’t feel that way, Soojung is real, their love is undeniably real. Still - it isn’t exactly right and he doesn’t feel anything but a deep and unsettling unease for that. “I’m happy,” is what he settles for, because yes, he is happy. There is just a lot of different things mixed in, like guilt and nostalgia and pain he can’t explain.
Soojung knows better to take his words at face value - there was a time when she could, but no longer. “Really?” She wants to hear what he really feels and thinks, even if there just isn’t enough time.
“Really,” he tells her, because anything else would ruin everything.
The wind picks up then, and sends her hair flying. The seagulls too, take to the skies, and they both watch in silence. The sun is sinking lower and the clouds are changing. Reds, blues, greys and purples.
“You’re beautiful.”
Soojung isn’t worried about the seagulls calling out to the gods. If anything, she is louder. “I love you.” She is not brave and nor is she elated. What she is though, is deeply in love and dedicated.
Chanshik never responds, but she knows why, and that is enough.
Saturday is their last day together.
“Good morning,” is the first thing Chanshik says that day, when the sunlight comes streaming in and the alarm clock disturbs the silence.
The sky isn’t clear. It is a blue layered with the city grey. Nevertheless, Soojung can still smell the sky through the open windows. It isn’t clean - far from it - city air is never clean. It is not like at the beach, where everything is fresh and a hint of savoury. It isn’t like on mountains, where it smells like crystal clear streams. The city is heavy, its air hangs, but still, it is beautiful in its own right. It is air that she has once breathed with Chanshik. Air that she is alive in. Now, Soojung wonders if those smells - of rain, of car exhaust, of asphalt and of pigeons - will go with her. Surely, she can have at least that, if she cannot have Chanshik. “I’m leaving today,” she tells him, as if it is news, as if they both don’t know it.
He sits beside her on the bed, fingers scrunching up the sheets beside him. “I know.” He can barely speak, now that the end is imminent. Don’t go. Don’t go. He is pleading a god that doesn’t love him. He is pleading to anybody that will listen. Stay. Stay. I love you. He pleads to a powerless Soojung who has the same wishes. Why does it end like this?
Still, she smiles and takes his hand in hers. “It’s going to be alright.”
Their fingers entwine. Hers. His. Hers. His. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“I love you, Soojung.”
“I love you. My love for you is greater than the sky.”
“Is it blue?”
“No. It’s any colour you want.”
“What if I want it to be blue?”
“Then it will be blue.”
“You’ll remember me, right?”
“I’ll never forget you.”
“Can we stay like this forever?”
“I’d like to.”
They fall asleep together, when the sky is a deep and dark blue. Together, when it is not really two separate beings, but a pair.
On Sunday morning, Chanshik wakes up and the only thing he remembers is the beating of wings and a barely-there whisper of Soojung.
Soojung, and nothing more.