Chapter Text
ACT 5:
Tap, Tap, Tap..
Geon’s heavy footsteps pounded against the concrete floor, reverberating inside the long corridor he was running in. A palm to his chest while significantly panting, his other hand dragging a luggage as its wheels squeaked and scratched along the ground.
(where am I?)
The hallway suddenly expanded, as if the walls were shifting. The space kept increasing, getting more complex, becoming closer to a twisted reality. A few minutes pass and suddenly it was as big as a mall—No, it was now an-
-(Airport?) Geon concluded, while his steps were slowing down before he stopped and stood still.
He wondered why he was here so early, too early.
There was no one around. Impossible, he thought. How could there be no people at such a large airport?
He looked at all the scheduled flights, all of them eerily only having one Japan airline code as the booked one. JL483..
(My flight?) He wondered.
Geon turned around, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw his…apartment door?
It was clear, his apartment number was right there, like a portal. It was just strangely placed in the middle of this wide waiting area. As if it was just waiting to be opened.
Having nothing to do, and dreading the idea of exploring the airport; He walked closer to the door, every step carrying fear and curiosity.
His hands reached out for the handle, slightly redrewing for a millisecond before he felt the cold metal in his fingers. Slowly, he turned and pushed the door.
It was indeed his apartment, nothing new, nothing stranger than the whole situation. So he entered, his foot about to step into the familiar wooden floors. But a voice rang out.
“Geon? What the hell is taking you so long? Pack your bags before we leave you.” Unnervingly calm, sharp and precise. It gave Geon goosebumps. The voice was too known, painfully so. He could recognize that tone anywhere, but he wished he didn't, he wished that it wasn't lodged in the back of his mind.
“Mother?..” he called out. Still confused about where he is.
“Stop spitting nonsense. GET TO PACKING?!” The deafening scream made him flinch. He quickly scrambled into his apartment. Too rushed to think twice. He ran to his room, opened his closet with a loud slam and started stuffing his clothes into the luggage he had in his hand.
Mind too messed up to comprehend and think if this is even reality. He just packed and packed, following his mothers orders, just like he would as a child.
“Get to the fucking gate BEFORE IT LEAVES YOU BEHIND!”
He put everything he spotted inside the luggage and sprinted for the door, head turning to find where the gate was. He quickly spotted it, but the voice echoed again.
“Did you seriously forget your wallet? God, how the hell are you so dumb?”
Geon glanced at the entrance to his flight. It seemed to be moving farther with every second.
He turned around and went back to his apartment, grabbing the wallet on the counter.
He ran out again, certain that he could escape. Hoping that he would finally stop hearing the voice. Praying that it would end soon.
One foot farther,
Then two.
“Get your phone, are you really this useless?” he ran back again, grabbed his phone from the couch.
“Where’s your report card? You can’t just forget your sweet little trophy, can you? Fucking immature kid.” a deeper voice this time, he knew who it was. Just as familiar as his mother’s.
(Father too? Please just stop. Stop..) He begged and begged, but nothing was happening. It kept commanding him, pestering him. It kept echoing and pointing out his mistakes. It kept making him go back and forth like a dog. The longer the voices spoke, the more distorted, louder, and triggering they were for Geon. He ran and ran, racing towards the gate, but it seemed to get farther and farther each second. It was zooming out, and his legs were already aching, dragging him down.
He continued running till it burned.
The gate was right there, almost an arm’s reach away.
(a little more please, just push through
Just a little farther.
Just one mor-
“Did you forget something again? Hn,”
The airport stretched, and the gate shrank.
His chest tightened, he wanted to continue running, to ignore the pain. But he turned around.
No matter what he did he was always too late anyways, always lacking something.
He never wished for it to come back, why is it here again? The pressure never really stopped, it just barely subsided.
It was always waiting for a chance, waiting till he got vulnerable enough to the point wherein it was Geon stabbing himself with the sharp edged words and slaps his parents always gave him.
This metaphor of a dream was exactly what it felt like. Running, escaping, from his parent’s harsh voices. Trying to block out their tone.
Trying to reach for the light, nearly feeling its satisfying heat and burn before something pulls him back. All while the exit, his escape, and his dreams behind the glow, slowly inch away. All because of the pain and torment his parents made him feel, what he lived through.
“You are a disappointment, and don't even think about opening that useless mouth.”
“You can’t even act properly, FOR FUCK’S SAKE TRY TO GET SOMETHING RIGHT.”
“Can you be any more sensitive than this? Crying over something so simple.”
“Don’t act like the victim now!”
“Is that really the best you can do?”
“You’re overreacting. It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s what you’re proud of?”
“Honestly, I expected better.”
“Stop being so sensitive.”
“No wonder people laugh at you.”
“You always find a way to mess things up.”
“Sit down. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“That’s why nobody takes you seriously.”
“You think that’s impressive?”
“Don’t talk back. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”
“You’re lucky I’m even patient with you.”
“Everything you do turns into a problem.”
“Why are you like this?”
“I didn’t raise you to be this weak.”
“You’re embarrassing this family.”
“People are only polite to you out of pity.”
…
…
“You’re really my son?”
The place went dark.
Geon’s eyes snapped open.
He grabbed his chest as he heavily breathed and sat up on his bed. His eyes were frantically blinking, trying to drown his overwrought emotions. He looked at his surroundings, vision slightly dimming. His eyes trembled as he kept trying to regain calmness.
(it was just a dream…) He told himself, relieved that it wasn't real.
Yet he felt so scared, so weak. He tried his best to stop his scattered breaths.
So he shut his eyes and breathed slowly. He quelled himself, fighting off the echo of his parents' voices and invectives.
He eventually did and fluttered his eyes open, slightly squinting from the rays of light coming from his window. He sat there, collecting his thoughts. Asking himself what happened, why did he dream about it so suddenly?
He hasn't heard from them for so long, so why the sudden nightmare?
Maybe it was because even though he hadn't heard nor seen them, they were always in the deep recesses of his mind, always finding a way to resurface when Geon was down.
He dismissed the thought, thinking of the busy day ahead of him.
He had to pack, meet up with his manager—Seita, and leave for a flight.
A couple of weeks had passed since his initial meeting with Tomoya, and they were already on the path of traveling; The part Geon was most anxious about.
But he knew that he wanted the part too much. He pushed down his unease and strove to drown out his doubts. He told himself that he can worry about that later. And “later” was apparently later today, when he would finally board that intimidating plane and go to the more intimidating country. Already starting the day physically and mentally tired, he decided to go on with it anyways.
Geon grabbed for his phone beside him and clicked the side button.
3 messages from “Seitaa”.
He opened the messages as he dragged his fingers through the screen, lips puckering out of habit. He read his best friend's messages, each word slightly processing slower than usual since he just woke up.
Seitaa
Hey! Dont forget to leave at 11 okay?
we still have to meet up with that tomoya guy and
settle the plane info
Please tell me youre already awake…
(11? Alright I guess.)
He calmly thought. The calm quickly vanished once he saw what time it was.
10:40 am
(shit.)
That being seen, he quickly got up and started his daily routine of getting ready at what seemed to be 2x faster than he normally would. The memories of last night hit him like a train. He planned to pack everything last night to avoid being late in the morning. But of course, this is Geon we are talking about. The ratio between playing with his Switch and actually packing to get things done were embarrassingly uneven, and by the scene of him stuffing a few more clothes and essentials into his luggage with a toothbrush in his mouth… clearly packing was never an opponent for playing.
He was all over his apartment, thinking of what else to pack and what he's gonna wear. He was moderately thankful that he already packed the important stuff first last night before he got distracted. All he really had to do now was pack the small bag he was going to bring for his most important and daily things.
Time flew and he was already exiting his apartment after double-checking everything he might’ve missed.
The plan was to meet up with Seita at his apartment, but after an honest conversation with him through the phone—-and after he scolded Geon—-they both decided to meet at the airport instead.
…
Tap, tap, tap
His light footsteps blended in with the numerous steps the people did around him. He had just left the taxi and was entering the airport. Eyes alert and ready to spot a certain brown-haired Seita. He walked through the airport, now packed with people, contrasted to what his dream looked like. He tried his best to ignore the deja vu, trying to stay positive, slightly lifting his mouth even though he had a mask on.
Soon, he spotted Seita sitting on a bench. Their eyes met and Seita stood up to greet his best friend properly.
But Geon felt Seita’s eyes look at him from head to toe, having a specific expression that Geon knew all too well.
“What?” Geon asked, knowing but a little confused.
“Slightly messy hair, luggage not even fully zipped, drowsy eyes.”
Each point made Geon’s eyes widen in worry and embarrassment. He ruffled through his hair, looked at his luggage and hastily tried to zip it up, and having nothing to do about his eyes, he just slightly batted them and gave Seita doe eyes that he usually did to convince Seita to do something.
“Tell me Geon, how much did you even play last night?” Seita raised his eyebrows.
“Enough to nearly fall asleep on the carpet..”
“Whatever, let's go. Tomoya texted me, he said he's here.”
“Alrightyyy” Geon sing-songed.
With Seita at the front and Geon trailing beside him, they started to go around and head to where Tomoya was. It took them a little while to get there since the airport was pretty huge, but they met up eventually. They made small talk about this and that while occasionally talking professionally about the series.
Geon hasn't had the full picture of it yet, but reading the description it sure did pique his interest. It was a simple storyline, yet it embodied Ryohei Sakamoto at its fullest. The plot was full of yearn, romance, and acceptance.
But what caught Geon’s attention most was how it involved past lives, he didn't believe in thoughts like that so much, but the way the storyline described it was so enticing and mysterious to Geon.
He’s watched numerous movies and works about past lives and magical events, however this series seemed to hit him a thousand times greater than how the others would. He seemed more emotional about it, he felt attached—-no, connected to it.
Like it was a little familiar to his personal experiences.
Maybe it was the partial amnesia speaking, or just his imagination.
Although, even though he would much rather ponder about that, he soon realized that he was actually going to Japan.
It was really happening.
The predicament he was petrified of the most in his whole 5 years of leaving Japan and the 3 years of him remembering…some things.
(This is it, I'm going to go crazy..)
Wait, no.
(This is it, i’m gonna die-)
NO
(This is it, I'm facing my fear…right?)
Each thing he thought about kept getting worse, but eventually got real. He was facing it, and it was more dramatic to him than you would think. He was scared, anxious. But he wanted to push through, to do something for himself. For something to change.
He wanted this, he told himself. He needed this.
A lot of minutes later they were already in line to board.
(last chance to escape…)
But he didn't know that the escape could've gone both ways. Escape the fear, or escape the tiring, draining, and sad repeated days without anything new. Escape and be a coward, or escape and stand up for himself.
This time, with every step his foot echoed. A trembling, yet determined feeling caught him. He was going to do this, and he will not decide otherwise.
(it's just a flight) he reassured.
(you'll be with Seita.)
He was now seated on the aisle side, beside him sat Seita close to the window.
He sighed, trying to calm his nerves. His hand placed on the arm rest in an attempt to not be too jittery. Geon quietly murmured,
(please be a good flight)
He has gone to numerous flights without a worry. A little turbulence didn't hurt him, but now that he knew where the destination was, his anxiety about plane flights suddenly skyrocketed. Nonetheless he remained still, eyes closed shut as he tried breathing slowly.
A few more minutes after getting set, the crew announced the take off.
His breath hitched as his grip on the arm rest grew more tighter.
His eyes were downward.
Then he felt a hand on his.
He glanced beside himself and saw his best friend giving him an encouraging look. Visibly worried.
Geon gave him a smile, but his hand did the opposite and reached for Seita’s hand, which Seita gladly gave.
They stayed like that, fingers intertwined until the plane steadied and the tension in his chest settled.
The pair were busy with their own things now, Seita drawing on his ipad and Geon mindlessly scrolling through inane things. He was trying to distract himself from the fact that he was going back.
Going back to his first home of a country, now a home so unfamiliar, to the point wherein his head hammered every time he tried to recall anything. But deep down he admits he was sort of excited. What awaited him behind those airport walls? What memories could come flooding back as soon as he arrives? What would authentic and original Japanese food taste like?..
But then, his mindless scrolling and busy thoughts were suddenly interrupted as his phone buzzed. Signaling a text from someone.
His brows knit together as he stared at the unfamiliar user.
Unknown
Hey, I’m looking forward to working with you.