The Art of Getting By
CHAPTER ELEVEN

❛ The Word Of TheWind. ❜

1:33 PM
September 2021
HYOSAN HIGH SCHOOL

WHENEVER JEONG AREUM needed inspiration for her songwriting, she metaphorically, found herself leaning her head of the shoulders of many poets. They provided her support and planted fresh and bold ideas within her mind. The seeds of support for developing new lyrics, grew into vivid and prepossessing flowers, ones that had an angelical scent, mirroring the sound of the music she created.

Above her unruly desk, that was still decked with unreleased musical scrolls and scrawly written lyrics engraved in graphite upon bits of paper, was a hefty cabinet that encased stacks and stacks of poetry. Behind the pink-tinted glass, were collections of poems, that Jeong Areum had bought every time she visited the bookshops, or antique store with Ji-Hun. Every page was adorned with heartfelt words that caused ideas to bloom within her mind; some were even stained with droplets of rosé (from the times when she'd take several swigs from a glass bottle with Ji-Hun).

Jeong Areum would either showcase some stanzas into her songs, if she adored them in particular. Or she would generate new lyrics, whilst being mesmerised by the magnificent poetry she read beforehand.

With her entirety being besotted for poetry, it only made sense that she found a passion for songwriting, and she conveyed that passion wholeheartedly all throughout College, and further onwards in her life too- and Moon Ji-hun admired her for that.

The two had taken the same subject: English Literature.

Every time, when Moon Ji-hun stuck his hand up in the air, his mind bursting with magnificent ideas to the teacher's lectures, Jeong Areum always beat him to it, and her inputs were always more interesting.

Right after that, they swiftly became pen-pals. Through the jarring winters, merciless autumns, hopeful springs and wishful summers, they scribbled letters to each other every day.

They had stopped after a few months, until one dandy summer, when Jeong Areum debuted as a singer, they reconnected again.

It was The Word of the Wind by Mah Jonggi that Jeong Areum treasured the most. In fact, she had met the poet in 2010, during an educational trip. Honouring that, there were hints and references to that poem in her songs- truly, she found the wistful poem touching.

People come and go, and Moon Ji-hun singlehandedly knew that. It was this poem that Jeong Areum read to him, on a cruel and merciless winters night, that caused him to feel some warmth from within. She wanted to dilute the growing remorse that blackened Moon Ji-hun's heart, and it worked, for as long as she remained.

People come and go, and every fibre of Moon Ji-hun felt cold again when the spring of 2017 played out his fears. It felt like the winter had extended, and it was as though the skin-biting cold remained, draining his veins dry, his limbs benumbed.

After the loss of Jeong Areum, he wanted to share the poem to his children- but he never did.

Of course, he didn't need to.

As I have mentioned during the exposition of this novel, Moon Eun-Byeol rifled through Jeong Areum's drawers on Thursday 6th July 2017. Naturally, her palms found themselves being filled with faded, pale notes. It took her a few weeks to fully read them all, and a galaxy load of courage to do so.

Though, one crumpled up paper particular, caused her cheeks to be decorated with salty tears. Moon Eun-Byeol's heart dissipated along with the winds that billowed through her window, after the words on the page, singlehandedly, macerated it.

The poem, caused Moon Eun-Byeol to eventually register the fact that she would have to spend the next spring without her mother- and all the seasons after that.

The raucous rays of the sun smothered Moon Eun-Byeol's face, as the raw skin under the tips of her bitten down fingernails, grew numb from ramming them onto the side of the yellow windowsill. Usually, her neck would crane upwards, to let her vision capture whatever the sky displayed on that day. Everything up there was typical. There would be either or both: the sun/the moon, rain/thunder, lightening/rainbows, the clouds/the birds.

Moon Eun-Byeol rarely looked downwards, because, everything was unpredictable, and she despised that. Blinking harshly, causing a few more desolate tears to slither down her cerise pink cheeks, the view outside of the building of Hyosan High School, affirmed her judgements.

The plague of gruesome terror had spread furthermore.

In the disturbed ocean of green, before her, the fields were not specked with students playing sports games, but, dappled with Lucifer's creations. The decayed souls of students had pulverised into nothingness. Leaving, only their ruddy, heinous frames, that carried perhaps the remainders of the student's spirits within their corroded bodies. Despairingly, the pure souls wouldn't be able to stand a chance.

With such a deranged impulse, it was quite visible that their inner beings had been annihilated long ago-

Moon Eun-Byeol could have sworn on all the galaxies above, that just a few days ago, the overgrown fields were graced by the art of serenity. Sprightly rays from the sun above was at large, its aura intense as it enriched the playing fields, beckoning the season of Summer to come back.

Now? At first glance, the blades of maroon grass may seem like rare poppies . . . But they're permanently sullied with the organs of defenceless teenagers, all that appear to be delectable pap in the eye of the grotesque beings that belonged to the Underworld.

One foot outside, and you'd be setting yourself up for deathly pitfalls.

Above all the anguish, warm arms latched around Eun-Byeol's strained shoulders, rocking the two to and fro as they peered outside. To the right of the two, I-Sak released an airy exhale from her blush coloured lips, that were only slightly aquiver, "Eun-Byeol . . ."

"Hm?" Only letting out a light hum, the mangled and bolting figures outside seemed to morph together into forest greens and morbid reds, a palette that still imprinted within Eun-Byeol's mind as she let her eyelids ram shut.

"This has to be the drama kids doing right? I mean, it's been half an hour into fourth period . . . can they just stop now?" I-Sak's voice grew timid. "It's not funny anymore." She didn't need an answer to know what was going on, it was more that she refused to acknowledge it.

As if there was a divide between the Earth and Eun-Byeol, she felt as though she were glancing upon the scene from birds eye view. With a blank stare, her eyes were identical to a thin sheet of opaque glass. Her exterior expression was unreadable. "I don't know," she started, in small voice, "but I hope that things haven't truly gone to shit." She blatantly stated.

But they have.

"This time, I'll be leaving for the benefit of not only the both of us, but for the rest of the school. I know you may not see that I care . . . Don't leave the classroom, okay? . . . I'll be back, and that's a promise I am keeping."

Those promises weren't exactly a recollection, since they had been circling Moon Eun-Byeol's heavy-loaded, befouled mind, ever since they exited her father's lips. Though they were supposed to let comfort settle within her chest, she couldn't help the festering of those words. How they altered into a rancorous burden, the malevolent acid from those promises burnt out her lungs. It caused her breaths to be strenuous- even the intakes of oxygen from the air, felt like she was breathing from an unrepairable inhaler.

At that moment, Moon Eun-Byeol knew what it was like to glide around Space, with a puncture in the oxygen tank, and with nothing but a hazy nothingness surrounding her. Even with a healthy set of lungs, they seemed flimsy within those moments, as though the abyss of Space was vacuuming them dry, leaving no remainder of oxygen in them.

On her back, Eun-Byeol had been lugging a sack of unmet promises, it jabbed and ploughed into her spine, causing her stance to be brought downwards rapidly, as did her faith in the significancy around promises.

Who created such a verb, only for it to become an idiom?

"What do we do? Why isn't Moonseonsaengnim here yet?" With a not so serene grip, Na-Yeon wrapped both her hands around Eun-Byeol's left forearm, and moved it around, causing Eun-Byeol to stand there like a rag-doll. There was a tone of desperation in Na-Yeon's complaints, the heels of her feet bounced and grew vigorous at every minute, as if she could implode from the uncertainty of the situation.

"He will be here . . . he will." Though, Hyo-Ryung herself didn't sound too convinced either. She pitched down the volume of her voice, her certainty left in limbo as she let the next question follow right after. "Right guys?"

"Yes, but he's not even here right now!" Usually, Eun-Byeol would fling Na-Yeon off of her at any contact that she gave, but Eun-Byeol stayed put as the waspish girl continued to yap in her ear, ignoring Hyo-Ryung statement. "Somebody do something-"

"Na-Yeon-" I-Sak tried to obstruct, but failed.

"Since it's your Appa Eun-Byeol, you should go."

Moon Eun-Byeol's headspace was far too loaded. Too far to even consider the intolerablere treatment that Na-Yeon gave her. What happened to those days, where Na-Yeon skimped lunch queues, so that she could stand next to Eun-Byeol's position? Where she would chum up to her, claiming that the two were like two peas in a pod. When in others' perspectives, they would claim that Na-Yeon did so to be further up the line. What happened to the Na-Yeon, that fawned over Eun-Byeol and her mother's music constantly? Even telling others that they were almost like family, when Jeong Areum had never met the girl before.

Clearly, the frightful situation had caused something within Na-Yeon to snap and differ in her behaviour towards Eun-Byeol.

Dropping her arms, with her jaw slack, the whites around I-Sak's now livid eyes increased, as though they were ignited with a bolt of light, that was arduous to suppress. The nerve of that girl. I-Sak refused to believe the words that were spewing from her classmate's mouth. Albeit, it wasn't an utter surprise, as Na-Yeon was known for her overt ignorance at times. "Are you crazy? You're asking her to leave?"

"But, what if they're not drama students- What if they're really rabid people?" Side-eyeing the window briefly, Kim Min-Ji a student with choppy chin length hair, then returned her attention on the sprouting commotion within the room. "We shouldn't leave the room for now-"

"What are we going to do then?! We can't just stay here and let those-" Her royal highness of Hyosan High School stumbled over her words as her entirety shivered at the unspeakable beings outside, "things eat us!- It was Eun-Byeol's Appa that left us in here. And he's not even back yet!-"

"So you suggest that Eun-Byeol should run towards them?" blocking the highly strung girl out of the way way, when Na-Yeon made an attempt to grab onto Eun-Byeol's shoulder, I-Sak was glad that she was two heads taller than her. For, she stood on her tippy toes, and tried to extend her legs, copying the directions that Na-Yeon was going in to intercept as much as possible. "Have you even seen those things out there? They'll literally kill her-"

"Exactly," Hyo-Ryung added, "which is why we should wait for Moonseonsaengnim to arrive. That's what we do during lockdown drills, it's the easiest and best solution."

"You guys are just a bunch of pussies," after re-trying and re-trying to storm past the head-strong I-Sak, a deep set frown balanced itself onto Na-Yeon's tense lips. The already evident circles under her eyes were thicker as they wrinkled with concentration, the small vein on her forehead was visibly seen. The narrow-minded, chestnut haired girl, practically drove supernovas into the girl's faces with her frantic eyes. "It'll be all your fault if we die from this-"

In any other situation Moon Eun-Byeol would have gathered all her vigour to end the dispute, if not, to try to be the triumphant one. If it were a commotion over which team truly won volleyball (of course she would have taken first place), a debate over who shot their palm up first in class to answer a question (usually between Nam-Ra and Eun-Byeol) or even a quarrel over something insignificant. Moon Eun-Byeol would have harvested all of her power at once, one that was equivalent to the most powerful supernova: SN 2016aps.

Just so that she could either win or- lose?

Well, Moon Eun-Byeol never let the thought of losing meander into her mind.

Not in an argument, or whether it'd be anything else- Moon Eun-Byeol did not want to lose. Regardless. Single-handedly, Moon Eun-Byeol knew all too much about the limb lacerating feeling, that loss can make you go through. As though your body was being subjected to the process of spaghettification- being swamped into a stellar-mass black hole- your bones and tissues compressed by the deprivation of whatever you lost.

There's no way of bawling for aid.

There's no way a sound wave could travel within the void of Space anyways.

"If you want her to go so badly, why don't you go instead? Right Eun-Byeol?" Reaching behind her, I-Sak expected to find Eun-Byeol's arm, but was left with nothing but a vacancy in the air, "Eun-Byeol?"

It was already unusual of Moon Eun-Byeol to stay wordless during a dispute like that, but three out of the four girls in the room understood why she was being indifferent. They had witnessed the interaction between their teacher and Eun-Byeol just moments before. So, it wouldn't have been unusual of her to leave the classroom so abruptly in any other situation. But given the one they were in, distress heightened within the already precarious air, as their troubled eyes trailed over towards the row of windows.

One, in particular, was slid open half-way.

"Shibal."

If the wind could whisper back, Jang Wu-Jin would have countless of conversations with the light zephyr of day.

He always found that it accompanied him during most lengthy nights- and up until lustrous dawn.

The currents of the serene breeze, would sway in between the arched branches of trees. Ones that bedecked the streets of Hyosan in particular. It was as though, the gentle gust would rummage through the boughs, at the mention of both Jang Wu-Jin himself and Moon Eun-Byeol.

With the Spring colours, it made the spaces beneath the towering trees appear dream-like. The pale opals and sapphire green palettes, created an idyllic scene. Even though they bloomed during the Spring, it seemed that the two of them were enough to make cherry blossoms grow early.

It was that time, the 5th of November 2017- when the boughs of the trees stopped being deprived of their seasonal flowers during the Winter, and had the flowers of Spring bloom upon their branches.

"Omma, today's-" Wu-Jin was about to begin.

"Cheer up Ha-Ri, okay? These were only the try-outs, the beginning, you've got plenty of time to improve. It wasn't like a competition," the sound of blinkers filled the strained air, before a more mature version of Ha-Ri overcame that pause by tapping the leather steering wheel with the flat surface of her palms.

"Your Omma's right Ha-Ri," their father set his eyes upon the mirror that was hung above the dashboard. Multi-tasking his hands rummaged through the sandy-brown paper bag, with a half-ripped, pink sticker in the shape of a strawberry, with the words Hyosan Strawberry Bakery in white. With napkins, he fished for the sugary goods- "Here, for my gold-medalist."

At the offer, she swiftly declined it by facing the window, her hard-rimmed eyes fixated on the passing palettes of greys and browns outside. "No thanks."

Hesitating, even flickering his eyes towards his wife, who's attention was juggled between her daughter and the road ahead, the hopeful, curved line upon his lips began to melt downwards a little.

Removing his lightly curled up palm away from his cheek, Wu-Jin removed his elbow from the window sill, a faded range of maroons and dark black pixelated his vision only briefly, as he sat upright abruptly. Almost spilling the strawberry milk drink, since he slipped the straw away from his mouth gingerly. He'd been witnessing the scene for almost the entirety of the car journey- which was quite long. Massaging his palms together, a high-spirited chuckle glided from his lips at the sight of the powdery bread, with a soft-toned, red strawberry filling within it.

"I'll take-"

In a swift motion, Wu-Jin's fingers dropped to his knee, and he glided it away, and in a subtle way, as though he were scratching his lap.

"Just have it Ha-Ri. Do you know how long your Appa was in the kitchen today? He baked these for you, having some will do you some good. Cheer up, okay? Just keep working hard for that gold medal, hm?" With a compassionate tone lacing her voice, the Jang sibling's mother bombarded Ha-Ri with some reassuring words. In hopes, that it would at least take away some of the desolate emotions that took a toll on her daughter.

"I don't want it-" Ha-Ri didn't need to peer at the dashboard mirror to see what face her mother was pulling, for she heard her seethe through her teeth. "Fine," dragging a forced grin across her glum lips, she reached forwards for the soft bread before slumping back into her seat, her eyes trained on the fuzzy scenery outside.

"Good girl."

Automatically, a serene, genial smile painted itself, quietly across Wu-Jin's mouth, he watched as his kind mother's eyes morphed into crescent moons at his sister, and how his father shimmied into his seat, with his previously sunken expression, being replaced with one that mirrored a glimmering full moon. The heel of his left shoe began to beat tinily against the rubber placemat, below his seat, causing the wrist against his knee to bounce slightly.

"Wu-Jin? . . ." His father called again, "Jang Wu-Jin?" He spoke in almost a sing-song voice.

From the left of him, he felt a nudge on his shoulder, perhaps from his sister, causing the black hood of his jumper to cover half of his face slightly. "Hm? Yes, what- What? What's going on?" Wu-Jin lifted his chin up, the tips of his ears burning a darkening hue of cerise at the unanticipated eyes that were now on him. Fumbling for the side of his hood, he pulled it away from his head, not bothering to re-arrange the stray hairs that were curled and ruffled from removing his hood so gingerly. "Oh Noona, don't worry, your weekends are always spent practising archery. You're bound to win someday- No wonder why you have no fri-"

There was an uplifting emotion that was about to spread across his face, and a small smile was about to sprout on her lips- but then it dropped, as she squeezed her index finger and thumb onto her brother's right ear, yanking it towards her, only half-gently. "Hey-"

"AGH- AGH- OKAY! . . . Okay! I'm sorry!" In surrender, his hands waved in front of him, almost feeling tears weasel its way outside of his tear ducts, he almost clutched his chest to catch his breath when his sister thankfully let go.

"I don't care about that anymore," dropping her hand, her voice trailed away as though she were waving the topic off- "Appa was asking you something."

"Oh, oh okay," with a little chuckle that was ongoing for a beat too long, he swooped his hood back over his head, nodding slightly at his father, "what's wrong?"

It seemed that the jubilant smile on the wiser man's face grew at the sight if his son's own grin- one that almost mirrored his own: dimples carved under their eyes and mouths in the shape of sliced apples. "You were saying something earlier, what were you going to say?"

Wu-Jin's expression didn't falter, at least, he tried to prevent it. The mention of Eun-Byeol's Omma might sour the situation further. Let's not. "Oh nothing," he faced his sister, who threw him a stony-faced frown in his peripherals, "it was nothing. I just wanted to," his back sunk into his chair, as his palms smoothed out his trousers ungainly, "I was about to say the exact same thing as Omma. But she beat me to it." Nice . . . save?

"Ah okay," inclining his head repeatedly, "that's right, our Ha-Ri shouldn't be saddened or worry that much. Your Appa and Omma are always proud of you. Okay?" Their father faced the front again, before scoffing down one of the strawberry breads into his mouth, the treacly taste filled his senses, before mumbling, "mm, you want some Wu-Jin?"

"Oh!- Sure!" Almost bouncing off his seat, the tip of his tongue hung out of his mouth as he cupped his palms, the brightening in his eyes looked as though he would create a backflip along the pavements. There were Gudetama patterns all over the napkin, as his mother would visit the markets every Saturday to run some quick grocery errands- his mind went to one of the Moon siblings immediately. But, the thought dissipated when he inhaled the aroma from the dessert that was rested on top of the napkin. "You know," doing the same as his father, he left no room within his mouth and filled the insides of his cheeks with the bread, "thank you for the bread Appa- I was starving. I can tell you were working hard with this, it's delicious as always."

"Really?" Hovering his bready fingers above his own napkin, as a makeshift plate, the Jang sibling's father then craned his head over his shoulder as much as he could, "I feared that it would be a bit moist, because I tried to switch things up and add less vanilla extract and more buttermilk- what do you think?"

"You're right, it was only slightly now that you say it. But, I dare say that it was soggy- slightly," Wu-Jin's eyes twirled towards the ceiling of the vehicle briefly, as though he could garner some ideas from his mind, just by looking upwards, before landing on his father's attentive eyes, "only because of the paper bags. I think we should switch to greaseproof, instead of these ones." He waved tried to reach forward to gesture towards the packaging within his father's arms.

Mr. Jang watched as his son's cheeks expanded once again, from squeezing every bit of the bread into his mouth, with an understanding grin illustrated across his already gleeful lips, he inclined his head once more. "That's true actually, isn't it Yeon-Hee?"

"Yeah . . . Yeah, that's true," she agreed momentarily.

Settling back into his chair, again, he made a double take at the napkin that was almost spotless, with no crumbs. Wu-Jin almost let the corners of his lips slide upwards, at the interaction and the food that he just had, before crumpling the napkin up and stuffing it into his hoodie pocket to be discarded into the waste bin later. The brief interaction was enough to be replayed within his mind for a few moments, before his father spoke up again.

"Oh- Oh wait," wobbling his finger at the window, Mr. Jang gained the attention of his wife, "Yeon-Hee, isn't this the road to Seoul?"

"Did you forget again? Today? Areum . . ." She then waved her palm, emphasising the purpose of why they were changing the route.

"Ohhh," gulping on air, there was a shift in tone as Mr. Jang removed the empty strawberry bread packet from his lap, and folded it neatly so that he could insert it into the car door's item holder. "Ohhh," he added again, when his eyes were placed onto the road ahead again, this time, the glimmer in them was gone.

Eun-Byeol went MIA today: was the first thought that entered his mind.

Of course, Wu-Jin let her have that space. It wasn't up to him, with whether he could talk to her or not, on that day anyways.

Resting his temple against the cold window sill once more, his empty eyes glided towards the bare Winter trees above, the blank canvas above contrasted majorly with the midnight lines that carved continuously across the sky. Even though the branches had an end, of course, they seemed endless, and at first he wondered if they could create a map and lead him somewhere. But, these passing thoughts had no answer as they were conjured from the temporary moment.

Each naked tree seemed comfortless and detached from the environment around them. Especially, compared to the evergreen bushes, ones that never wilt during any season, that dotted the fronts of them. When the forest beside the road didn't seem to stop, Wu-jin's mind glided towards the Moon girl again- he was able to do so, the only thing he could do, fret behind the scenes for her.

Tree after tree, the car ride seemed to duplicate time, maybe into quadruples and a halve. Some part of Jang Wu-Jin desired for some sort of communication in this situation. Apart from mobile devices of course, maybe telepathy of some sort, so that he's able to know that Moon Eun-Byeol was in fact: alright.

". . . Hyosan news here, I'm your reporter Jae-Sun. Today marks the third anniversary of famous soloist and song-writer JA . . ." Wu-Jin was about to ask for the radio to be shut off, before the staticky voice continued. ". . . I am joined here today with the daughter of-"

"Omma," urgently, there was a slight edge to Wu-Jin's voice, "is it okay to turn up the volume please," as he removed his seatbelt, as though he couldn't trust his mother to do so in time, instead, he murmured a quick "thank you," anyways, despite turning the dial up with his own hands in a haste.

"- It'll only be brief- Sorry, just a moment," the reporter started.

Wu-Jin could have sword he heard Eun-Byeol whisper a harsh 'I'm not comfortable,' in the background, and at that Wu-Jin nearly unclasped the door so that he could bolt outside, and somehow locate her. But, he stayed put, with his blood beginning to blaze like the fire pits on Venus.

The reporter spoke again, this time in a gruelling tone, as though he had just been afflicted by the loss of vital quotations in his report- "Hello, I am back to report on the events of today. Respecting, the daughter of JA's decisions, she will no longer be sharing her thoughts on today in person, but through something else. We are going to read out a poem that she has sent to us. It is different from last month's, and she mentions that it was written by JA's favourite poet. She hand-picked this in particular, to share her thoughts on today. I will read it aloud now:

The Word of the Wind by Mah Jonggi

After all of us leave,
if my spirit passes by you,
don't think even for a moment it is
the wind that sways the spring boughs.
Today I will plant a flower
on a corner of the shadow
where I got to know you;
when the flower grows to bloom,
all the distress that stemmed from our acquaintance
will turn into petals and fly away.

It will turn into petals and fly away.
Though it is unbearably distant
and futile,
how can we measure all the things in the world
with only a small ruler?
When every now and then you turn your ears toward where
the wind blows,
my beloved, don't forget even if you become tired
the word of the wind that comes from faraway.

A rather heartfelt and comforting piece of poetry here. I hope that the many people that have gathered here with us today, are feeling either of those emotions after hearing this- And I thank JA's eldest daughter once more, for sending this through. This is reporter-"

The boughs of the trees managed to meet an end, as the vehicle drew closer towards an expanse of fern green land, that was marked with various ashen grey headstones. With the middle of his palm, Wu-Jin concealed his half-morose face with it, whilst a slither of an alleviated grin tugged at the sides of his downturned lips. Ever so, he also buried his respectful tears behind his closed eyelids.

There wasn't a way to describe Moon Eun-Byeol's thoughts, however, the poem was enough to tell both Jang Wu-Jin and perhaps thousands of others, that she was just getting by. The art of it, is, that words can travel through the winds so effortlessly, and in turn there could be gentle petals frolicking with the zephyr too- petals of comfort.

There were many mediums to communicate, but Jang Wu-Jin was sincerely glad that poetry was one of them.

"AGHHHHHH," As though it could aid him with having a rapid drive, Oh Joon-Young had his elbows curved, fists punching the air repetitively, his arms swung on his side as he sped through the hallways.

With one edge of Gyeong-Su's lips twitching upwards, his entirety jerked at the sound, "oh that scared me-" A half horror-stricken yet amused chuckle broke through at the sight of his friend. "WHAT'S THIS DUDE DOING?- I THOUGHT YOU WERE ONE OF THOSE ZOMBIE FUCKERS FOR A SEC THERE. I NEARLY TOSSED YOU ASIDE-" For demonstration he waved his arms about as though he were in combat.

"AGHHHH," the student with round spectacles only picked up his feet higher, with his hands being his only defense as he shoved the fleshy, maniacal skeletons away from him. It only offered them a few more seconds to run, though, as the disfigured peers seemed to generate additional energy, their limbs functioning more sprightly than the average Hyosan High School student.

It wasn't an effective strategy, despite having zero to nil knowledge on the situation and maroon soaked bodies that were savagely attracted to the healthy. One proved so, as it deadlocked its rouge eyes onto Joon-Young's spine and began to seize his forearm.

"JOON-YOUNG," thrusting the mangled student's chest aside with a stony force, something delved out of its mouth. Gyeong-Su almost retched at the sickly gloop that flopped onto the side of his sleeves, the midnight, salivary consistency rolled off onto the ground. But, the disgust didn't last for long as he kept his palm on his friend's back, as though he were steering him away from any more unexpected events. "TOP STUDENT YOU ARE- STOP USING YOUR ARMS STUPID."

"WHAT ELSE AM I MEANT TO USE?!" Turing around briefly, he made a double-take at the empty space beside the two of them. They were on the staircase above the medical room, and his slipped sneakers skidded across the sullied grounds, leaving an extensive trail of saffron red behind, as a result of his haste momentum. "HEY, HEY, HEY." With the base of his hand tapped Gyeong-Su's arm with persistence.

"WHAT- OKAY, YES- WHAT I'M LISTENING."

"WHERE'S JANG WU-JIN?"

The graph of Gyeong-su's pulse plummeted. "WU-JIN? WU-JIN'S . . ."

"I COULD HAVE SWORN HE RAN WITH US OUT OF THE CANTEEN. WASN'T HE RIGHT NEXT TO YOU?"

"I THOUGHT HE WENT TO THE TOILETS-" After scanning beside him, he found that he was commentating on Joon-Young's mannerisms with nothing but thin air. "JANG WU-JIN? YOU LITTLE SHIT- WHERE ARE YOU?"

John Keats to Percy Byssche Shelley, Jang Wu-Jin never found his poetry skills remotely close to them. Their articulate words in multiple stanzas, had filled him with many inspiring notions, but he could never seem to find the 'correct' words to put into elegant syntaxes. Of course, he was never head deep into the glistening and graceful land of poetry.

It was only that day, when the reporter read out The Word of The Wind by Mah Jonggi. That caused him to be thankful for it, and it showed through his assignments for his English Literature classes (in which Moon Ji-Hun marvels at Wu-Jin's work sometimes, saying that he could go quite far if he keeps it up). But, Jang Wu-Jin would never credit himself for the poetry that he tried to make- it was simply, a string of words that held a metaphor that he pulled from his mind.

Jang Wu-Jin didn't know why he strived to achieve so well in English Literature, especially the poetry unit. But he knew that some part of it, was because of the radio entry on 5th of November 2017.

Poetry seemed to be the key to how Moon Eun-Byeol and Jang Wu-Jin would communicate.

That day, Wu-Jin was able to know if she was alright, through poetry. Other times, it's not so obvious, and the poetry is not done through words, but in figurative states.

There was poetry in everything that they did.

When the angelical sunlight, peered through the gaps of the boughs outside, in a feathery manner, and would gleam across the arch of Eun-Byeol's cheek. With the side of her face on top of her arm as she dozed off in class, the humming of the electric fan causing her to slack off in class, Wu-Jin would create extra notes, knowing that she struggled with Korean History classes.

When the airy, primrose coloured petals of the blossom trees, would litter Wu-Jin's tousled hair, the summer winds being too weak to make them swirl away. The sound of a polaroid shutter would fill the air, as Eun-Byeol would take countless of photos in amusement. Not knowing, how he did it intentionally to scratch away the melancholy within Eun-Byeol after finding out her mid-term results.

There was poetry in everything that they did.

Wu-Jin wondered when he would be able to communicate his own feelings through his own poetry, and envied how poets could write so well. However, each moment that he spent with Eun-Byeol, he felt motivated to continue, for he was constantly reminded of the 5th of November 2017.

Choosing flight, Wu-Jin strayed away from his two friends, and meandered through the hallways.

"EUN-BYEOL?" At the sound of his frantic voice, another student with a decaying mind, surely fractured their neck in different ways, from turning around forcefully to face Wu-Jin. "No, no, no, no-" With Wu-Jin's back against the rigid doorframe of the medical room, its torso rammed against his body, decorating his emerald uniform with mahogany. Contorting his flushed face slightly, with a balled up fist his nails dug into the surface of his palms as he gripped onto the frenetic thing's hair, and hurled them away from the entrance.

"Shibal," a curt yet breezy curse fell from Wu-Jin's lips as he gripped onto the sides of the walls. Snapping out of that daze, his enlarged eyes scanned the room in a swift motion, surprised that his vision didn't pixelate from the sudden movement.

From over-turned metal tables on castors, contaminated bandages that carpeted the flooring and syringes pooling the ground in one corner, Wu-Jin then transferred his attention on to the vacant beds, with nothing but the ruffled outline of its ex-patient's bodies.

Being idle briefly, his shoes backtracked ever so, not quite taking in what he was seeing. Though this may be, Jang Wu-Jin wasn't despondent, he was more or so determined to leave the school.

Good, Eun-Byeol must be at the hospital already.

Using his racket skills from badminton club, his arm reached for a silver tray on top of the cabinets, the medical instruments on it clattered beside his feet, as he swung his arms in efficient and rapid movements. To and fro, merciless bodies bounced off the stiff makeshift weapon that Wu-Jin had-

Until he felt his wrist being captured.

With one arm raised, the moon coloured tray between his fingertips, Wu-Jin nearly let go when his eyesight beheld the one person he dreaded to see.

"Eun-Byeol?" Unable to control a well balanced stance, due to the rushing adrenaline within him, the stability of expiration was harsh as he tried to regain his breath, his upper body moving hurriedly as he heaved.

"WU-JIN," it seemed that the Universe still doted Eun-Byeol in some way. She was able to find one out of the two people that she was supposed to find-

"Why are you- Why are you here?" Trying to hold in his exaggerated exhales, he failed slightly as, it fanned the loose auburn strands of her hair, that escaped from the bandage that was wrapped around her head. "Aren't you meant to be at the hospital right now?" The proximity of them was respectful, yet, not far enough to miss the wateriness that puddled within Eun-Byeol's eyes.

". . . I couldn't find him."

Wu-Jin's ears were pounding, blocking out her soft voice briefly, before zoning back in again. "Find who?"

"I couldn't find-" She stopped short, her eyes wondering elsewhere. "OH WU-JINAH-"

In a beat, a ghoulish student, with a missing finger, charged behind Wu-Jin, garnishing his wollen vest with sprays of claret. The long-gone pupil's veins spewed the remainder of its blackened blood onto Wu-Jin's back. Yanking Wu-Jin's arm down in response to the situation, Eun-Byeol pulled him behind her with a mild force, her fingers wrapping around the smooth material of his shirt sleeve.

"WHAT'RE . . . WHAT-" He opened and closed his mouth many times, unsure of what to say in the fleeting moment.

During an ordinary school day, the six foot boy would have compared the situation to the growing blossoms on the streets- and Wu-Jin did, for a short time. He would've even made a comment. How he detested the fact that their interaction, was like a scene from those dramas that his mother watches with his dad. How it was surreally blissful. How the winds that they created from their sprinting, flowed past their ears freely.

At that time, Jang Wu-Jin realised that poetry did not have to be in word form, but it could be portrayed through a feeling too.

Wu-Jin could not tell, whether it was from the adrenaline he had from before, plus from the running he was doing, but, everything around him seemed to dissipate, as he trusted his life within the hands of the girl in front of him- and there was poetry in that.

DEAR ALL,

AFTER HALF A YEAR I'M BACK??????
I am so sorry my loves- I keep
disappearing then coming back- BUT
I do come back every time so it's okay??
I don't know I'm so sorry, you guys are
probably used to it so I'll stop apologising
in every author note LMAOOO.

But seriously I am so sorry. Other than my
mid-terms and serious studying (welp I try)
I've been in a writing slump, especially for this
fic.

Since this fic uses a lot of my creativity,
I feel that I have to try an perfect each chapter
and conjure some metaphors for them, so that
it is in the best possible quality for you guys to
read and that it is enjoyable- which is the sole
purpose of why I write!! Of course, that led to
my slump and eventually de-motivation. So I
took a break, but, I found that it does wonders.

Breaks are amazing, because I am now bursting
with ideas and motivation- and I found that, who
cares about perfection? I feel that, whatever I can
write, is much better than a words that are done
with force. So, I hope I can update more frequently
in the future now. (I hope this chapter was just like
the others, and that the style hasn't changed due to
my break?)

Anyyywaayys you probably skipped that rant, but
I felt that I needed to update you guys on that, so
that its fair and ComMuniCation you know (as this
chapter talks about a lot)!!!

But pushing aside the seriousness, isn't Jang Wu-Jin
and Moon Eun-Byeol so 'Here with me' by 'D4vd'
coded??? I've recently been obsessed with that
song and the lyrics and melody makes me so
happy, and writing about them to this song
just makes so much sense.

Also, this was sort of more romantic (well this fic is
mainly romance and a bunch of other themes)
than the other ones becauuuuuase, it's an early
Valentines Day present from me to you. Happy
Valentines day to my beloved readers (platonic
ofc) <333

WITH LOVE, SYLVIA