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It didn't seem right for such a sad day to be so beautiful, and as Wonwoo sat by the tiny grave, he wanted to curse and scream at the sun for even daring to shine.

The service for Chan had been short and sad, the children from the home crying over their friend, the house marm gathering them close in her arms, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Wonwoo wandered the meadow until his arms were full and sat arranging dozens of flowers all over the little wooden cross, reading from his book of poetry until his voice was hoarse and the sun went down.

"I don't want him to be lonely, Jeonghan," he whispered when his Uncle came to find him, to bring him inside out of the night air. "It's so cold out here and quiet and I don't want Chan to be lonely."

Jeonghan hid his own tears as they walked back to the house, his heartbreaking for his nephew who had lost so many in his short life and had gained so little.

A flower appeared on one of Wonwoo's right ribs that night as he slept, a tiny forget-me-not in the same shade of blue as little Chan's eyes.

Wonwoo woke in the morning and cursed the bloom, wishing for thorns instead.

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"Wonwoo," Jeonghan ran his fingers through his hair to wake him. "Wonwoo, are you sure you don't want to come with me to the market? I don't want to leave you alone, not like this."

"No," Wonwoo turned onto his other side in his small bed, facing away from Jeonghan, unwilling to face the day. "Just go away please."

"I think maybe a break would be good for you, honey. You have been so sad since little Chan–"

"You can go, Jeonghan. I just want to lie here."

"Wonwoo, I am worried about you," Jeonghan pressed. "You hardly even talk anymore. I can't get you to eat. You are usually so lively, and it's like your spark has gone out. I haven't seen you smile in weeks, and your eyes are always so sad, sweetheart. Please come with me."

Wonwoo sighed and sat up, rubbing his face wearily.

"I'm fine. Chan was–" he swallowed hard. "It was difficult but I will be alright. While you are gone I can build a new chicken cook before the winter, and get the garden cleaned up."

He sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "Some physical work will be good for me. We need a new cover for the well and–and–" his voice trailed off and Jeonghan reached over and held Wonwoo's hand tight.

"Can I bring you something back? For your birthday? We never celebrated, and when Seungri came by to see you you wouldn't even come downstairs."

"Don't want to see Seungri," he mumbled.

Seungri had come knocking first thing the morning of his twenty-fifth birthday, calling for Wonwoo to let him in so they could celebrate.

Wonwoo had hidden away in his room, partly because he didn't have the patience or the energy to fend off the persistent man, partly because he was afraid that he was so lonely and desperate for anyone, that he would let Seungri hold him just to feel someone's arms around him.

It had been getting worse lately, the restlessness, the need to have someone to love. Most people his age had already met their partner, already had matching blooms on their palm and over their heart to signify their soul mate– and Wonwoo had never even been kissed.

No, nothing good would come of letting Seungri  hold him simply because he was lonely.

So Wonwoo had stayed in bed until Seungri  had left, rubbing his fingers over the tiny blossom on his ribs, desperately wishing he could sleep again just to forget it all.

"Uncle Jeonghan," He said quietly, squeezing his hand. "Will you tell me the story of the Prince of Thorns again?" He lay back down on the bed. "I like the way you tell it."

Jeonghan rubbed slow circles onto Wonwoo's back and started the old tale.

"They say he lives deep in the woods, all alone in a magic castle," he began softly. "And that he is covered in thorns from head to toe. Some say he was cursed because he was an awful, cold-hearted Prince, so awful that flowers refused to bloom on his skin. They say he craved war and craved violence and finally, the blackness in his heart spilled onto his skin."

"But no, that's not true." Jeonghan glanced down to check if Wonwoo was sleeping yet, smiling when he saw his eyes closed. "The Prince of Thorns used to have beautiful flowers, but despite all those beautiful moments, somehow he never learned to love. So a witch traded his flowers for thorns and now he stays in the castle alone, waiting for the one who will teach him to love. He is waiting for the one strong enough to break through the thorns to find the rose that blooms on his heart. He is waiting for the prettiest rose, the rarest rose, the one who can be the beauty to his beast."

Wonwoo was snoring quietly now, and Jeonghan slipped out the bedroom door, pausing to look at back at his nephew, at the tracks of tears on his face.

"My poor Wonwoo," he murmured. "One day you will find someone who will bring a bloom to your heart."

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"Are you sure you won't come with me?" Jeonghan asked again and Wonwoo gave him a quick smile as he loaded the last of the crates into their old wagon.

"I've got a few weeks of work to finish here before the seasons start changing. But I will come over after I am finished, and I'll bring the rest of the packets and supplies, in case you are out by then, alright?"

Jeonghan sighed and nodded, pulling Wonwoo in for a quick hug. "I will write to you when I get there, expect a letter in no more than a week. You remember where Cousin Joshua lives?"

"Of course I do, and if I don't I'll ask someone in town." Wonwoo kissed Jeonghan's cheek sweetly. "Three or four weeks at the most, Uncle Jeonghan. I will write to you a few days before I am ready to leave so you know to expect me."

Jeonghan was still looking at him worriedly. " Eat, Wonwoo, you have lost so much weight these past few weeks and I'm worried if you lose much more you'll fall sick and I won't be here to help you."

"Junhui and Minghao will keep me fed," He promised. "And if they have their way, they will have me fat as well. I'll be fine, but you need to go now so you make it to the inn before dark. I don't want you traveling with the wagon at night."

"I love you, Wonwoo." Jeonghan hugged his nephew tight. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Be safe," Wonwoo hugged him back. "I'll see you soon."

Wonwoo stood in the drive until Jeonghan and the wagon had disappeared, then trudged back up the stairs into the empty house, up to his empty room.

With a hand pressed to the forget-me-not inked on his ribs, Wonwoo collapsed onto the bed and wondered how his first and only bloom could be connected to a tragedy.

And then he wondered if it was awful that he was relieved that Jeonghan was gone, that now he had the freedom to sink into his depression.

Wonwoo fell asleep with a frown on his face, knowing he should get up and do something, unable to find the energy and desire to do it.

He just wanted to lay in the dark and make it all go away.

Not Edited

Tuesday, May 19, 2020

Song Recommendation:

"The Leaders" by ATEEZ