"Call me friend but keep me closer."

~B.E

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How did I end up in such a predicament? One moment, I'm digging through your dirty laundry for souvenirs, and the next, I barely have enough time to stuff one into my jacket before bolting out of the dorm room and revving up my motorcycle as fast as I can. My hands are so clammy with panic that I'm left to fumble with the keys like a maniac, consciously ignoring the stares of curious passersby.

I've racked up a lot of pet peeves over the years, but one of them is having a ritual of mine interrupted. The pounding of my heart in my ears is a foreign feeling to me, yet so familiar, having felt it so much in my childhood. It reminds me of dark corners, where only dust bunnies and hell kept me company. The only routine that existed then was the grey dread that crammed itself into every aspect of my life, and your phone call brought back everything I ever hated about myself.

Finally, my scattered mind settles as I hit 60 mph on the highway, and I begin to sort through my thoughts more rationally. I had mapped out your schedule perfectly to avoid happenings like this, and the last 3 times I had gone treasure hunting in your dorm, you were at a therapy session with the same person you were with now. Something tells me your hysterical episode correlates to this meeting.

But I vowed to fix you. And so I will.

Since Querencia is farther from my house than your dorm, I make it back home in plenty of time for the doorbell to ring not 10 minutes after my arrival. I practically sprint to the front of the house while trying to calm a frenzied Yeontan, who hasn't heard that blessed sound in probably months.

"Hey!" I exclaim as I swing open the door, but falter at your form. It's the aftermath of the storage closet all over again, with puffy eyes and slumped shoulders that make it seem like you carry the weight of the world on them. However, you can't look me in the eyes as you make your way in and stoop down.

"You have such a cute dog!" you coo, scratching Yeontan behind the ears.

"Isn't he the best? He–oh..." I trail off when I hear you sniff and tears drop onto my wooden floor. Maybe I can save those.

"I just need a second, sorry," you say, rubbing your temples.

"Come on, let's sit down. Do you like peppermint tea?" You nod and make no effort to say anything else as you shuffle all the way to the couch, flopping onto it face-down. The sight is so comical that I have to refrain from laughing.

Yeontan keeps you company by jumping up and licking every corner of your face he can possibly reach. Even you are susceptible to his charm, giggling hesitantly at first but eventually relaxing enough to play with him. He's not even that friendly with me half of the time.

As the water boils and the sun settles over your face, I imagine our life together in this space. It wouldn't be too bad, would it? Settling into our own morning routine, you heading to your sessions while I work at the tea shop or do other odd jobs to make ends meet. It would be our own little safe haven to retreat to after enduring the hardships of the world outside. It's the dream I never thought I had.

Normalcy. What a loaded word.

I pour the hot water into a mug, put a teabag in, and walk over to where you're lying down. Seeing me come toward you, you push yourself up and sit at the opposite end of the couch, knees pulled up like a child. Your lips tremble before you utter your next words.

"I have to quit."

"Quit? Quit what?"

"My master's program. I can't do it anymore. I-I have to go into a different profession-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I cut in, putting a hand up. "Are you saying that you're quitting your job as a psychologist?" I ask, incredulous. You've wanted this since high school, and every decision since then has been hand-picked to follow the path of success. Why throw it away now?

"That's exactly what I'm fucking saying, and I should've done it sooner before all of this!"

"Where did this sudden change of heart come from?" I ask gently.

Putting your head in your hands, you mutter, "I had my worst session ever today."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes," you say immediately, then shake your head. "No. I don't know. It's not allowed."

"I won't tell if you won't."

You look beyond me, gaze pulled away by something only you can see. Maybe it's fleeting guilt, waiting in the shadows to drag you back home. Untended tears wait on your lashes to fall, but they never do. You've cracked already.

"He–the man, had these sons and a wife," you say slowly, as if you doubt the words that are coming out of your mouth. "And... The wife used to beat the shit out of the youngest one all the time, all throughout his childhood. She'd make the older one watch like some sick freak. Like, who would make anyone do that?"

I shudder. You have no idea the horrors that lie detached in the gutters of different realities. What you perceive to be stuffy clothes and the occasional scraped knee turns into hours of hide-and-seek in the closet, just praying that your own breathing won't give you away, or scars that never heal quite right. What a luxury to be able to look right in the eyes of someone and say you need help with such authority that they have no choice but to avert their gaze.

You continue, "And you know what this motherfucker did while all this happened?"

I swallow down the urge to vomit as I feel cold sweat going down my back. There's no way. "What?"

"Nothing! He did fucking NOTHING!" you scream, bursting into tears that I can't do anything to fend off. "His own son is dying in front of him and the most he can do is cower in the corner because of his own fucking selfishness! He'd rather learn how to disinfect wounds than take those kids out of the house, or even get some help for them. Anything would've worked.

"And you know something else? The younger son should be around my age. Someone my age, from my city, walking around with all of that fucking baggage that could've... could've been avoided if he had d-done the bare minimum to... to..."

You're barely intelligible at this point, the last part of the sentence devolving into a tangle of syllables that I couldn't decipher even if I tried. Instead, all I can do is stare.

Unadulterated rage courses through me when I see the tears that streak your face now. (so easy to snuff out a life) After all, they shouldn't mean anything to me. They're nothing but your feeble expression of pity for a fictional character for all you know, and what good does that serve my non-fictional suffering?

But they do. They make me feel like you somehow know me without realizing, that you want to fix me as much as I want to fix you.

"Hey, hey... Come here, love... Shh..." I put my arms around you, and you let yourself sink into my embrace, your whole body shuddering with ill-contained sobs. You're so beautiful when you cry. "Maybe try seeing it from his side. He probably thought that was the only thing he could do for his children at the time, and from what it sounds like, there weren't many options. He's human, too, you know? That kind of fear, something that holds onto your own survival instincts but also that visceral love for your kids... It couldn't have been easy."

My body feels detached from my mind as I say those words. Never in a million years did I think paths would convulge like this, forcing me to defend someone I held knives to in his sleep. What have I done?

When you finally pull away with a sniff, I can tell you've been exhausted this whole time, the want for sleep is written all over your face.

"I know. Fuck, I know. This is the first time I've dealt with a situation like this. I-I don't know who to blame. I'm just angry, and maybe a little confused," you say.

"You have every right to be."

"No, I don't, and I'm sorry I told you. I told myself to stay detached. This is what I was trained to do, not you, and now you're probably traumatized or something." You chuckle humorlessly, then look down at your hands before biting your lip so hard it turns white. "God, I'm such a fuckup."

I cup your chin and make you look at me.

"Don't ever say that. You, Naomi Yamamoto, are the strongest person I've ever met, and you always will be. Consider this a little bump in the road. And, besides, who do I have to tell? Yeontan?" I say, and you smile as you snuggle into the crook of my neck. I can feel the magnetic pull of our hands just inches apart, and all I want to do is feel your fingers intertwined in mine, a brief kiss of touch between humans.

With the curtains filtering golden light that streams in, it almost feels like we're sitting in our personal corner of heaven. You have wings made out of dove feathers and planets, pulled in by each other's gravity, and you envelope me in its embrace. It's the warmest I've ever felt.

"You had so many people to call," I say after some time. "Why me?" You take a moment to let your muddled brain think of a response, then answer.

"I just knew you'd understand better than any of my other friends," you say with a shrug. "You talk like you're hiding pain, even if you don't know it. But you're good. So good."

I can hear the sleep in your voice, and all I can think about is fucking you until you cry again. I don't reply.

I've heard people call me many things, but never good, and I'm not sure if I can believe my own disguise. That's all you're looking at, Naomi. A disguise, what I perceive to be the essence of goodness. An honest living, my own place, visits to the gym, even a cute dog to paint the picture fully. In truth, though, you'd never have time to dig under all of the layers to see who I really am, and I hope you never do.

After a few minutes pass by where we sit in comfortable silence, you grasp my hand as you succumb to much-needed sleep, and I feel the weight of your body drop onto mine. Your breaths are a ticking bomb waiting to leave me.

Because everyone does in the end. It's only a matter of time.

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안녕 여러분! I hope everyone enjoyed this
chapter and their +1 bonding. I'm so excited
to begin going into more of the plot as the book
progresses! Do you think Naomi will find
out about his past later? Let me know!

QOTD: What are some of your quarantine coping
mechanisms?

I have none, and I'm really struggling, so that's why
I'm asking all of you guys. Mental stability who?
We don't know her.

Until next time, happy reading!

Love,
Haneul