#// sub file: mafia dynamics and the perceived importance of appearances and why song haneul is al.ways. visually put together

[mconlight]

haneul’s relationship with his parents is complicated, to say the least. 

i imagine little hannie still grieving and learning what that kind of deep loss is for the first time and learning what that means, still visiting therapists to figure it out and asking his parents about it— them answering very patiently until one day they don’t at all.

“it’s been months,” they’d say— tell him it’s time he pick his head up and wipe his tears because he’s a song. the songs are strong, and if anyone sees that he still cries, he’ll be an easy target. his father would be damned to lose another son.

“it’s just the way the rules are.” and haneul doesn’t like those rules.

but he listens. his mother stops scheduling him psychiatry appointments and he learns to hide his feelings away until there’s no one around to see him cry— until there’s no one around to hear him ask the moon why any of this has happened. she’s his best friend— the moon is. he tells her everything. he tells her how he still catches his dad lingering outside of his brother’s old room and how his mom doesn’t dare cook his favorite food anymore. he tells her how he’d like to talk to them about it, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed to. he’s a song, he tells the moon and all her stars. he doesn’t know what that means.

he tells her how gentle they are with him now. they’re loving— they always have been— but haneul wonders if their love for two sons somehow has simmered down into one, or if they seem to love him more because he’s the only one left. he wishes he could ask them about it. 

and when he’s done telling his best friend in the sky his thoughts for the day, he tucks them back into the recesses of his mind. he locks them up. he does not let them out.