midline - Tumblr blog

[midline]

would you mourn? for whom? for what?

the grief dissolves into the ocean lost into the sea of vastness a memory too insignificant to recall as the ocean holds a vast of depthness where you continue to sink lost behind those who have moved on afar

[midline]

it's the way your heart is wired so tired and stretched thin only to coil up press together to try and make up thickness it wants to simply just snap to let go, and frayed edges fall apart leaving only a broken connection and relationship never meant to come together again because it's worn down through the endless thoughts swimming and pushing itself to the limit nothing outside of your control or within just reaching the end and ready to let go slowly surely goodbye

[midline]

relaxer

“adult smokers in korea average around 13 cigarettes per day.”

it was the first statistic that comes to mind whenever yoo hamin sees a cigarette in sight. it was also the thing he remembered yejun saying to him whenever he saw the young master sneak out of the house with a pack in hand as if it was the answer to why he was doing it in the first place.

it was also the first thing hamin said to eunho when he saw the other pull the cartridge out of his pocket during a lull between their breaks. a moment of reprieve from their duties which often left them alert and ready to jump into action at any moment. 

he recalled at that time, eunho’s confused stare before the sudden eruption of laughter and the peek of canine teeth that hamin found himself fixated on for a moment as eunho places the cigarette between his lips while fumbling for a lighter.

“and i’m sure a majority doubles in that. maybe it’ll be you”

fast forward years later and fortunately, hamin has not succumbed to the statistics and statement eunho mentioned to him.

instead, he’s more likely to be a victim of second-hand smoking as he watches eunho fumble around looking for his pack of cigarettes. one especially needed after getting a call from their client during his day off of all moments. 

“is the young master really pulling this stunt last minute?” eunho mumbles as his eyebrows furrowed in mildly frustration as he looks back again at the table next to their bed stand only to let out a groan to not see it except for the lighter.

fortunately, as hamin slowly makes his way over to their living room, he notices the rectangle peek out from the edge of the living room table with the lighter right next to it and wonders how the other managed to miss such an obvious place. 

there also presented two choices available for hamin at this moment as he grabbed the pack in his hand. either give it to eunho and banish him to the patio. or trash it and wish the best for eunho’s sanity.

fortunately it was an easy choice for hamin by this point.

“haminnie, did you see my cigar-mph?!”

before eunho could finish his question he felt something shove between his lips and instinctively he parted his lips and let it in before holding onto it from falling. he tastes the familiar filter wrapped with nicotine as he looked up to see hamin looking back blankly and holding up the pack in his face.

“living room table, hyung”

“ah.”

it was such a simple statement but it was a profound testament to how easily hamin could find what eunho lost. how much they’ve become a part of each others lives through simple gestures like this.

“what would i do without you?” eunho thinks to himself as he goes back to the bedstand table to grab the lighter.

it was a routine by this point. eunho grabs the lighter, walks out to their patio, and takes his time smoking out there while hamin continues with his activities inside.

so it’s definitely different when eunho finds himself making his way out only to have a towering figure follow afterwards with the same, seemingly indifferent gaze.

cute.

is definitely the first thing that comes to mind and he doesn’t question hamin’s sudden behavior as he steps outside the patio, taking in the breath of fresh air at this point.

and it’s a sight to see for hamin as he watches eunho close his eyes for a minute, the unlit cigarette still in his lip as hamin has placed it there and all those years of never being curious renders itself useless as he has this sudden urge to try it.

what was it about smoking that made eunho like it so much?

so when the younger man saw the lighter go up to end of the cigarette, hamin couldn’t help but reach out and grab a hold onto eunho’s wrist suddenly only for the other to immediately look up in shock, defenses ready for a second.

“hamin?”

“uh…….i want to try one too” he blurts out 

“huh?”

the expression of shock paints both of their face as eunho tilts his head and takes the cigarette out of his mouth, letting it hold between his index and middle finger while using his other free hand to slip under hamin’s bangs and touch his forehead.

“are you sick hamin?” eunho asks in concern as he ignore hamin’s slightly flustered expression as the younger man pulls eunho’s hand away although he doesn’t let go right away and even gives it a small subconscious squeeze.

“no, i just wanted to try. you do it and even young master noah and young master yejun do it as well. i’m just curious.”

it was genuine but the way hamin said it as if he was feeling guilty but too committed in what he does and eunho isn’t sure whether to turn him away or not.

still a part of him is curious too, wanting to see this person whose gone from a colleague to something more in his life try something that he’s managed so hard to hold back.

maybe its just that fun of watching how much he’s made his way into hamin’s life. 

enough to make this one bad choice as he relaxes and breaks away from hamin’s empty hand to reach over to the other one, still gripping on his cigarette pack.

“relax. breathe in slowly through your mouth and out too” eunho commands as he places his cigarette back in his own mouth so he could help pull another empty stick and bring it up to hamin’s lip.

and it’s hard to tear away from the visage as hamin leans down a bit, lips parting slightly before closing around the edge of the cigarette butt and looking up at eunho. 

honestly you could have just taken the cigarette with your hand and put it in you mouth, why did you have to do it like that? 

those were the thoughts screaming eunho’s mind right now as he gestures hamin to lean in for their cigarettes to touch.

it’s cute to see how hamin complies with eunho, a stark contrast to the stubborn personality that often clashes back during work hours on what was the best and safest measure in protecting their clients. and also in other moments behind closed doors. 

the lighter slowly comes up as eunho lets the flame flicker for a second before settling between the two edges of the cigarette and the embers slowly making its way onto the cigarette as they both glanced at each other, sharing this moment of intimacy they never expected to have in their lifetime.

if felt like an eternity passed before eunho pulled the lighter away.

it’s habit for eunho as he sucks in the smoke, letting it settle in his mouth and nicotine settle in his body before exhaling it and letting the smoke out. 

to hamin, it’s completely new. an foreign object making its way through his body as he attempts to mimic eunho’s movement and the words mentioned earlier too him.

albeit the results doesn’t turn out perfect as the younger man feels the smoke trapped in his throat and the sudden urge to cough escape his lips comes free as he starts to cough and let’s out a mild gasp. 

it was enough of a commotion for eunho to hold onto his cigarette with his finger as he puts the cigarette back between hamin’s lips.

“don’t swallow it all so fast and so long. shallow breaths when you inhale and out when you start. let it settle in. and focus on your mouth”

and as eunho instructs, hamin follows. he inhales for a short moment before holding onto it and swallowing a bit before he exhales the puff of smoke escapes from hamin’s mouth and gently wraps around eunho’s face.

silences permeates the patio at this moment as eunho goes back to smoking his own cigarette and making sure to keep an eye out on hamin, his gaze trailing towards his lips as he watches his significant other smoking before his eyes.

it was a sight both found foreign in their eyes and a strong scent foreign to eunho.

he was used to having the scent of cigarettes linger around hamin due to him. however it was fainter, nothing too heavy compared to the muskiness that permeates the patio from both of their cigarettes as he watches hamin get into the hang of it. 

and so one thought suddenly comes to mind.

eunho wonders what it’s like to get a taste of it.

“hamin look over here”

“what hyung” hamin answers, cigarette between his fingers for a moment,  finds himself mildly annoyed since he was finally getting used to it as he exhaled slowly, letting the smoke leave his lips only to feel something warm press against his as eunho engaged in a sudden kiss.

sharp. pungent. musky. strong.

those were similar words going through their heads as eunho felt hamin’s body tense up for a second at the sudden gesture only for the atmosphere to shift as he felt those stiff lips relax and return the kiss, a free arm reaching up to wrap itself loosely around eunho’s waist as hamin leans into the kiss loses himself in that moment.

the cigarette in their hands both forgotten in this moment as their shared something more intimate with each other and lost in something else much more addicting for the both of them instead.

(although hours later, when hamin is icing eunho’s back, he’ll surely make a declaration that cigarettes, indeed, are not his thing). 

[midline]

complacent

“you’re too tight hyung”

the sound of rustling could be heard in the silence afterwards before another voice chimed in.

“better now?”

“mmm it’s still uncomfortable” 

“i can only move so much in this position haminnie”

“ugh hyung stop, the water is gonna spill!”

and true to that the water from the overflowing bathtub drips onto the ground as eunho watched a mildly aggravated hamin grumbles as they sit in the tub too tight for them.

they could only do so much in this moment. in this living situation where the water was available only between a certain time and yet two large men as themselves needed to use it both somehow after an intense match up today.

“i told you, i could skip a day, hamin” eunho replies back while ironically sinking deeper into the bathtub, letting the warm water calm his nerves and relax the sore muscles from his earlier fight.

this wasn’t a common occurrence in sharing the bathtub together, but it happened sometimes. when they were only so much time ticking after a long night of work before the warm water in their dingy apartment complex turns off until the next morning. 

however it happened during moments when their match line up overlaps or one of them finds themselves waiting for the other to finish before heading home together after a harsh fight. 

in this case, it was more on eunho’s end as he sees the familiar tuft of black hair from the edge of the fighting ring and green eyes watching his every moment.

as if he was locked onto him right from the start. and that same gaze that carries him into the infirmary after every match, waiting until he was patched up from his wounds and ready to head home for the night with him, both duffel bags already in his arms. 

eunho watched hamin carefully wash himself on the other side, gliding the soap boar across his arm and careful to avoid the large bandage over it. he tries not to wince at the bruises that followed after the bandages, peppering over the younger one’s body. almost as if he was the one who gave it to him.

he recalls memories of the past, of the same boy in front of him dressed in a clean uniform, free from blemishes with a bright face full of life. a stark difference compared to the dark circles that have grown along with calloused fingers and muscles much too defined and built for his age. 

a present he was sure the other never expected nor wanted in the first place.  

“eunho hyung. eunho hyung? eunho hyung!”

he’s pulled out of his thoughts as he stares at green eyes leaning closer to him, feeling the other’s leg graze against his under the tub. the subtle touch of their skin touching caused him to let out a small yell of surprise as he hits his back against the tub wincing at the dull ache.

“hyung! are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, you were really close there hamin" he explains as he watches the other move back, creating the distance again between them and looks away.

“i wanted to help you scrub your back… i know your arm is still healing from the previous matches today.”

ah. 

his red eyes glances over at hamin’s bandaged arm.

“not like yours isn’t healing just as much?”

“it’s not as bad as yours hyung”

he could hear the insistence. the firm tone of the other gently getting his way as eunho finds himself mentally giving in as he lets out a quiet chuckle and reaches out to ruffle hamin’s hair, ignoring the confused expression on the other’s face from the sudden gesture.

“just don’t scrub too hard then alright?” 

like everything else he’s been through with hamin, he always gives in.

from that moment that they met in the hallway years back when hamin asked if he could join him in for lunch, to that rainy day when hamin insisted on coming with him through this journey through hell together. and even now as eunho realizes the dangerous dance the other is playing in their daily life together how much he lets gamin do what he pleases.

though how could he not when it’s something dunno knows deep down he yearns for in the end?

so as long as this relationship remains nameless and vague, he’ll embrace it for as long as possible.

[midline]

43.

a simple, mundane number in his life. a number to an age he felt like he’s grown into months ago. despite being a step towards to his 50′s, he feels as though life has finally started for him only the past 10 years or so ironically. 

when the lights of stardom fades away and he’s not longer on center stage. yet he feels like he’s finally the main in his life. 

a ever-growing business with a wonderful partner. a seemingly ever-lasting friendship with his best friends (and former co-workers). a healthy relationship with his family (even more so now that he’s become proud of who he was). and a amazing love life where he feels like he’s in his teens again (although his body reminds him quite easily that’s not the case) . 

all this has come to him through the later years in life and an sense of appreciation that wells up from within and where he carefully tucks into the crevice of his heart hoping to let it meld with the rest of himself. 

so he looks forward to this age and whatever it has in store since the past numbers before have been going nowhere but up for him.

[midline]

tw; anxiety, self-deprecation

someone asked why don’t you express yourself anymore?

because the voices inside my head will eat away every word i spill out leaving a trail of uncertainty until there is nothing left but paranoia.

it is better to smile, chin up and bundle it all together until i decide to let it all implode within myself. 

so there is literally nothing left to express but an empty shell of empty thoughts

[midline]

celebrations. it’s a celebration in itself to wake up the next day to take in another sunshine. another moment to go through the net 24 hours still breathing.

or in this case, was it hell? 

joonghyuk doesn’t know. he can’t recall the feeling that comes each day as he focused on completing each scenario. to survive and make it through to what he hoped was the end. and if not, to die and live another day to make sure it was the right ending. for him and everyone he cared about.

the people he cared about. maybe that’s what making this introspective moment even happen.

eyes flicked towards the huddle group in the corner, not bothering to figure out what they were all doing there, including mia.

he doesn’t bother and instead turns his back against them, failing for that one second when a pair of eyes from the group glanced over at him before turning back immediately.

it’s a short moment of rest at this time. a moment to wonder why he’s still with this group of all times. or with kim dokja and the rest if he was to be specific. he doesn’t know what continuing this journey together would be like. to make it through the end that kim dokja envisioned. 

the possibility of some hope in the first place. he doesn’t know and he hates himself more for even thinking something stupid as this in the first place all because it happens to be his birthday. if he was even counting correctly. too much has happened to really keep track but it should be around now.

he lets out an aggravated sigh before feeling a sudden tap on his shoulder jolting him in surprise. immediately he turns and grabs the collar of the person, ready to strike at any moment before eyes narrowed at the person who did it in the first place.

“kim dokja.” he mutters with a frown on his face as he watched the other holds both hands up in defeat.

“as much as i want to give you everything you want. i still need to live to see another day.” he hears the other say before eyes noticing the flickering light to the side.

mia stands in front with yoosung and gilyoung next to her, holding a small convenience store bread with a single candle lit on top of it. 

“happy birthday oppa. it’s not much right now since we’re out but dokja-sshi had these somehow so we still wanted to celebrate a bit.”

hearing the joy and excitement in her words softens him up a bit. enough for him to stare at the candle for a moment before pausing a minute and blowing it out and watching the smile widen on her face before the crew decides on dividing up the bread or giving it all to joonghyuk.

it becomes a full on debate thanks to sooyoung and sangah, somehow and so joonghyuk watches from the sideline, not bothering to interfere before he calls out, “you planned this, didn’t you?”

he looks at kim dokja who only tilts his head and gives a shrug, “mia took the lead once i mentioned it when i coincidentally had these candles and bread.”

coincidentally his ass. 

joonghyuk knew he planned it somehow. yet he doesn’t say anything as he just grunts as a response, ignoring dokja’s words as he recalls what happened only a few mere moments ago.

there’s a twitch in his lips and before kim dokja could see it, he press his lips together firmly and decides to walk the opposite direction, further way from everything else. 

and for a moment a thought flickering by that maybe... his own celebrations are still okay.

-----------------------------------------------

a/n: happy birthday u emo sunfish. sorry if it’s slightly oc in any way but just wanted to do something small with kdj co.

[midline]

the last time kim dokja was with yoo joonghyuk was on a winter afternoon.

the lingering memories left in his mind and heart drifts into a part of his mind he can’t dig out no matter how hard he tries like the snow gently drifting onto the ground, blending along the rest of the white-covered ground.

“i’m sorry....i’m sorry.”

those were the only words that clearly rung out before he was met with the back of the larger man as he slowly disappears from his view. feet firmly planted on the ground against his own will to run after him. 

to salvage and yell what should that dumb oaf apologize for in the first place? why now? what went wrong in the first place? 

yet its the fear and sense of cowardice he believed to have grown from since meeting joonghyuk that locks him down, paralyzing his movement as he watched him grow further away.

he doesn’t remember how long it’s been since then. a year? two? or more?

yet he still finds his foot going back to the same spot each time knowing he can hear the sound of han sooyoung’s nagging in the background.

move on kim dokja. 

but how could he when he felt himself stuck here since that day? as if time stopped and continued on regardless.

time was never kind enough for anyone in the first place but he can’t help but hope there was second chance each moment he came back.

------------

a/n note: slice of life au. ex-joongdok. rose-tinted glasses taken off too soon.

[midline]

she looks down at the rusted key in the palm of her hand.

it was a simple key, having long lost it’s use and remained nothing more than a memorabilia.

yet to it’s owner, it was a key with still so much use

for it was the key to unlock a door.

a key to remind her everything that associated itself with it was real.

the one thing to confirm her that he was real...

it was the key to her hope and her goal.

[midline]

“chúc mừng sinh nhật, jun”

her voice echoes softly over the other end of the phone and he could hear the weariness in it. the years of experience laced in her simple words wishing him happy birthday. yet there was a sense of genuine joy added in, to be able to see another year to wish him happy birthday and the joy of simply celebrating.

“thank you mom,” he answers back in his stilted vietnamese. evidence of the language slowly wearing away from him, “are you and dad well?”

he could hear the gentle laughter as his mother instantly jumps into catching up, explaining the adventures she and his father went on during their stay in vietnam. an anniversary trip he surprised them with even though he knew it would overlap with his birthday.

at the age he was, birthday felt more like an excuse to go out to eat versus the large celebrations with gifts and memories he had when he was younger. or the abundance of gifts and letters from fans when he was an idol during those times.

now they’re a bit quieter, more subtle, and with a small group of people whom he feels comfortable with to be himself, no barriers up (although he never really kept one up in the first place).

when he was a teen the oldest he could see himself was in his 20’s. in his 20’s he’d envision his 30’s. 30’s to 40’s. 

yet here he was slowly making his way through fourty-two at this time and the horizon of what his 50’s would soon dawn on him.

though if someone was to ask when was his best moments he would pause and think about it before probably choosing these past few years has been the most joyous part of his life. 

more than he ever felt in his teens and 20’s and so forth.

maybe it’s the fact he’s grasping the reality of settling into his career, his home, and his life, past the days of being an idol. or having long completed his military training and being considered a full-fledged adult having served his country.

or maybe it’s the people that’s come into his life recently. unforgettable bonds from he never thought would form so easily. juniors and old faces coming back into his life.

it could also be her presence too. the past two years of memories filled to the brim of her. soft smiles and gentle laughs echoing through his memories, only growing more as they fill up in a jar tucked in the corner of his mind and heart wondering how long it’ll take before it’ll start to overfill.

either way, it’s all those thoughts that accumulate together so when he hears his mother ask softly, “are you doing well? happy on your birthday?”

and even though he doesn’t know what’s in store for the rest of this day he can’t help but find himself nodding alone and a small smile slowly forming on his lips, “yes mother, i think i’m the happiest i’ve been.”

[midline]

she wish to write something happy

something that brings joy when she feels it but her wishes betray and only does her pent up sorrows, sadness and pain flow from her fingertips turning into letters. 

words. 

sentences. 

paragraphs.

stories.

covering the lines until all that’s left is her thoughts bared for all and so she tries to pull them back in, pull her hand away from her stories as she continues to wait again. to write something of joy. something positive.

so it finally becomes real instead of a constant wish.

[midline]

tw; gore

mask stapled to skin tightly, each pull and tug stretching flesh further and further.

when pulled hard enough would the mask just drop?

or would the staple pull flesh apart, blood spilling to reveal a pulsating monster staring right back at you?

why don’t you give it a try?

just give it a tug. a pull. a bit hard, a bit more and see what’s underneath and in store. 

[midline]

To whom do I owe the biggest apology? No one’s been crueler than I’ve been to me.

Alanis Morissette, Sorry to Myself (via music-and-quotes)

[midline]

buried under the weight of anxiety and countless thoughts guised as happiness and hope. 

crushed lungs and heavy gasps. drowning and drowning until silences fills their thoughts and being. 

as if ceased to exist.

[midline]

kim dokja carries his sense of self like a fragile shield, ready to crack under the pressure at any moment and crush him beneath.

he dons the persona of someone two times too big for him while feeling bits and pieces of himself collapse with each step.

he doesn’t notice as they flicker away and fall onto the ground. not when he’s too busy carrying the weight of his life and others to seek his end. so he continues forth, broken bit by bit.

still even if he did turn back, he would see nothing on the ground, only two small figures continuing to follow beside him, smiles geared just towards him as they keep their hands behind their back, clenching the pieces they picked up.

it’s only during rare moments when he’s asleep do they bring out those flecks and bits of kim dokja only to slowly piece him back together again.

and they’ll do it again and again. because to shin yoosung, lee gilyoung, and most likely the rest of kimcom, he never needed to be someone else in the first place.

[midline]

찌개 - jjigae [ a dish similar to a western stew. there are many varieties; typically made with meat, seafood or vegetables in a broth seasoned with red chili paste, soybean paste, soy sauce, or fermented shrimp ] 

the first time she makes kimchi jjigae, honoka needs the tallest stool to get half her body above the kitchen counter. eyes shining bright at the assortment of food and tools spread out across the table. she leaned over the edge to get a good look at the ingredients around her: kimchi, seaweed, pork shoulder, onions, dried anchovies, green onions, sesame oil, and it goes on. 

honoka doesn’t actually do much to actually make the dish. not with hands too small to hold any of the knives and the anxiety radiating from rikuto towards his mother with the thought of his younger sister getting injured.

(“you learn from mistakes, so it’d be good to learn to embrace it.” their mother would emphasize a year later after honoka’s first cut on her finger while cutting onions.)

what she does get to do is slowly drop all the ingredients into the large pot her mother places in front of her. the vegetables already chopped up and ready to go within the blink of an eye (not really but it feels that way to her).

of course, she drops it in order as her mother directs.

anchovies, daikon, green onion roots, and dried kelp slowly filling up and covering the silver bottom of the pan, amalgamating into a colorful soup base as she let each ingredient fall in. she watched as her mother did the rest, filling up the pot with water and placing it on the large stove, the fire slowly heating up the bottom of the pan.

it’s a mesmerizing sight she can’t stop looking. the way her mother navigates through the kitchen and effortlessly getting ready to put the rest of the ingredients together. until she notices her mom opening the lid and slowly pulling out all the ingredients that she put in twenty minutes ago. the dried anchovies lifting up into the air, staring into little honoka’s eyes, a feeling of betrayal at her hard work going to waste.

tears slowly build towards her tear duct and she was fortunate that rikuto was still lingering around to pull her away from the kitchen as she thrashed at mommy taking out her hard work. 

she doesn’t fully realize later after she finished crying and she’s trying to wipe the snot with her sleeves in the living room, that it was meant to be taken out. unfortunately she didn’t get a chance to see her mother finish making the entire dish that night but she knows it’s delicious when she takes a bite.

one day she’ll learn

-

the next time honoka makes kimchi jjigae, she’s a bit older, a bit wiser in the kitchen. specifically, she’s thirteen and a first year in secondary school. If asked, she’d proudly mentioned having advanced greatly from observing in the kitchen to finally being a proud assistant to her mom.

(she’d answer with a cheeky grin, “i can julienne vegetables now.” if you catch her on a good day).

it’s this time where she actually is asked to make it again, without mom’s help.

“your first step in becoming independent in the kitchen.” her mother reasons as she flips their roles around and leaves honoka to take charge in the kitchen while she observes.

there’s an exhilarating and equally terrifying thought to being given that much power in the kitchen. especially as a middle schooler. anxiety starts to prick at the nape of her neck as she feels chills crawling down her arms, raised bumps forming on her skin while she blanks out a minute at what to do. 

“soup base.” she hears her mother gently start, a little push. ah yes...the soup base.

ironically enough, it’s her mother’s smile that calms her down. the wrinkles near her eyes, softening her expression as she encourages her youngest child to make the main dish for the family. 

so she takes on the challenge. takes on the lead as she goes to cut the ingredients, gets the pot ready, etc. she stumbles and she second-guesses herself if she put in the right amount. (“there are no measurements in home cooking, whatever feels right is right” her mother would explain).

the pot comes to a boil as the soup bubbles red with kimchi and pork being cooked inside, a part of her mother’s culture in their everyday life on the dinner table. (though also honoka’s and rikuto’s own culture too).

her father would comment on it being too salty when he takes his first bite, face slightly distorted to visually express his feelings.

“dad, it can’t be that salty.” she tries to defend herself as she reaches over with her spoon to take a sip.

ah. he’s right, it is salty. she shouldn’t have added that extra pinch in the end.

a little pout on her face forms as she sits back, visibly despairing over her first failed independent encounter cooking for herself. “i’m doomed, mom what if i don’t get better?” she dramatically responds only to receive a chuckle and a slight pat on the head.

“you’ll get better honoka, it’s your first step. plus it’s only salty, not terrible.” the emphasis makes honoka feel a bit better as she nods and decides to eat most of the side dishes for the night.

she doesn’t realize among the chattering and never-ending conversation at the dinner table, despite her father’s initial comment on her first stew, he still finishes most of the bowl, even asking for seconds.

- 

by now kimchi jjigae is like making the bed for honoka. she does it without a thought as she pulls out the ingredients from the refrigerator, body on autopilot.

rikuto was coming home early tonight...finishing his last-minute client a few hours ago. 

preparing the soup base comes naturally now as she carefully strains the anchovies, daikon, green onion roots, and kelp from the pan. a large step from when she first helped out as a little girl.

“mom can you help set the table? i think we have some soybean sprouts and spinach leftovers to have as side dishes and the rice should be done now.”  she looks over to see her mother nod at the suggestion, the same gentle expression she’s grown up with most of her life being a familiar comfort.

it’s been a year since her mother cooked less, a few months after their father’s passing. almost as if her will to make something kind of dissipated along with him. 

her mother’s weakening health didn’t help either, which was why honoka was glad to pick up kitchen duty. take on the reins of keeping the family table alive during dinner (especially with rikuto back home now). 

she cuts up the kimchi into bite-size pieces before placing it into the middle of the pot along with the green onions she cut earlier. fingers deftly work as she roughly measures with her eyes salt, pepper flakes, pepper paste, and sesame oil. before she turned up the heat, the sound of the door opened and she couldn’t help but quickly make sure the fire was on medium heat before placing a lid on top.

“brother!” she calls out with a cheeky grin, shuffling out of the kitchen for a moment while wiping her hands on the apron and peeking her head towards the entrance. “wow you really did come home early this time! good thing we didn’t make a bet.”

the grin only widens as she watches rikuto rolls his eyes and steps onto the entryway, holding out a plastic bag for her, “managed to stop by and get some taiyaki from the vendor close by the office. we can have it after dinner.”

her eyes sparkle as she reaches out to grab the bag and even does a twirl in excitement, “once again bribing your way into being the best brother ---”

“you mean only brother.” rikuto corrects her and honoka laughs lightly as she gives him a thumbs-up before realizing she had a stew cooking in the kitchen.

“can you help mom set up the table? i’m almost ready with dinner so we can eat!” shuffling over she lifts up the lid, forgetting the amount of steam covering her face leaving her momentarily unable to see. hearing the sound of soup bubbling and watching the ingredients move up and down, a red color coating the pot felt satisfying. she reaches over and grabs the slices of tofu (which she realized mom had cut for her) and places it evenly around the pot, letting it simmer in the broth for a few seconds before turning off the stove.

despite being a tired family of three, the sound of voices echoes throughout the small apartment as honoka sets the pot down on the placemat in the middle of the table, her mother and rikuto having already sat down. 

she watches as they get a head start, digging into the food she placed on the table. she could feel the warmth spread and it wasn’t from the soup. not when she feels warm and grateful to spend time with her family like this. the fortunate moment to even spend time with them is something she reminds herself each time at the dinner table. 

so she doesn’t let herself linger in reminiscing and being grateful. she joins at the moment, her loud voice entering the conversation eagerly as she reaches for a spoonful of soup bringing it to her lips to take a sip.

ah. it tastes perfect.

[midline]

the doorknob opens and he’s greeted to the sound of silence and the hallway of the studio apartment left untouched.

taking his shoes off and placing it in the shelf, the sound of footstep echos breaking the silence as the lights flicker before shining into the entire room.

the bed was unmade in the far left corner. the blankets crumpled up into a misshaped ball in the far right corner, while the body pillow was laid on the ground as if it couldn’t be bothered to be placed back. 

the desk next to it was neat though, as if untouched like the rest of the apartment with photos lined up on the far back. moments in times whether or alone or with someone. they told the story of the person this desk and bed belonged to.

it was was a place that screamed home to anyone who looked at it. lived in and stamped with pieces and moments of the tenant.

the man placed his briefcase down on the ground as he loosened the necktie, feeling as though he can finally take his first breath. picking up the envelopes he pulled from outside he flips through them pulling out the ones marked as bills to go through later.

it’s only while he’s sorting things through does he hear the sound of his phone ring go off in his pocket and fumbles to pull it out of his pocket with one hand before putting it to his ear.

“hello?” he answers, eyebrows knitted together as he listened to the person on the other end.

“why is it your business to know where i’m at?”

“does it matter?”

“i’ve worked it out with the landlord for the time being”

“it’s been 3 years...he hasn’t come back since. what makes you think he’ll be back now?”

“....”

“yes, i’ll come back soon for dinner.”

“no. it’s okay i know you said it out of concern....”

“yeah. i’ll see you.” the voice on the other line goes quiet as he places his phone back in his pocket. taking the letters with him, he slips it carefully into his briefcase before quietly walking towards the hallway and grabs the shoes from the shelf before carefully slipping it back on. 

he turns back towards the dark apartment, expecting it to be a joke and be met with a familiar face wishing him a welcome back and urging him in.

alas he was once again met with the silence and darkness of the apartment and he accepted as he would each night he stopped by before opening the apartment door and letting it shut behind him with a soft click.