Chapter Text
That night, for the first time in weeks, was frosty even indoors. Hari wasn’t much of a complainer, but when sleep was hard to come by, she’d make it known. As her feet landed onto the concrete floor, the door of her shared accommodation had squeaked open.
Hari shared the room with many other women who had been rescued from the city, although none of them had been very familiar.
The figure lingering in the doorway was, however. It was near impossible to mistake the shoulder length hair for someone elses.
“Psst!” Of course, loud and obnoxious, seemingly without a single care in the world.
Hari sighed, sliding her feet into the paper-thin shoes. Quietly, she left the room, and once the door closed, Mijin didn’t hesitate in throwing a fit.
“Bastards won’t even let us get proper sleep!”, She echoed with hands furrowed deep in her pockets as she shivered, “I’m guessing you’re awake for the exact same reason.”
“Maybe,” Hari murmured.
“Onjo wouldn’t come with me so I came to get you,” It wasn’t like the archer waited for an explanation, but it was comforting to know that she wasn’t on the top of Mijin’s list when it came to solving problems.
“Why me?”
“Why not you? You’re already up. Plus, I don’t really know who to ask about this. I know you hate the cold.”
Hari sighed, waving the shorter girl over as she headed down the hallway, “Alright then, let’s just go.”
She didn’t have to ask twice, because Mijin was on her heel like a piece of lost chewing gum.
Hari navigated through the narrow hallways rather quickly, making turns as if though she was on autopilot. Mijin followed close by, but the sight of numerous military personnel navigating through the quarters at this time of night wasn’t very settling.
‘Probably the heating,’ the shorter girl thought and shook it off.
It was only then that Hari’s voice pulled her back from her sleepy trance.
“What’s with the heating? People can’t sleep.”, The archer questioned as they entered the reception.
“My apologies. There is a fault with the generators. Our engineers are on the problem. Please respect the curfew and head back to your rooms.”
Mijin rolled her eyes in annoyance, “Yes ma’am.”
And that marked the end of the conversation.
Wordlessly, the archer headed back.
“Quiet down, we don’t want to cause mass panic!” A solder snapped.
“Huh?” Mijin had stopped dead in her tracks, pulling the military individual back to her as he attempted to squeeze past.
“Military matters. Head back to your rooms,” His voice was quiet and collected, and despite Mijin’s wishes to beat the information out of him, she knew that couldn’t be done…at least not in this cold.
With eyes snapping back forward, the shorter girl had to jog to catch up to Hari, “you heard that, right?”
“Probably nothing.”
“You’re way too dismissive, you know?”
Hari could do nothing but continue walking, “and you are way too intrusive.”
“No, I would call it curious. And for good reason. These bastards left us at the school to die. Even if it was important, what makes you think they would share that information with us?”
“Just go to sleep,” The taller girl was already in her room, door slamming shut at Mijin’s face.
“Fuck, she’s cool. But stupid.”
XXXXX
Morning came, and the smell of cigarettes was still lingering from Mijin’s nightwear.
Onjo’s nose scrunched at the odour as she watched the girl yawn awake.
“Good morning,” She murmured to the girl sleepily.
Mijin simply waved back, eyes still shut, “Thanks for coming with me last night.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a long day. I will come next time.” Although she didn’t have the energy to sound apologetic, Onjo was still sorry.
“You thought about him, hmm?”
A single, silent nod gave it all away, “I always do.”
“He was good, you know? And I don’t say that about a lot of people.”
In all her despair, Onjo offered a heartfelt chuckle, “I know.”
Cheong San--the thought of him--always present at the back of her mind. There wasn’t a single day she hadn’t thought of him or mentioned his name.
It felt like a sickening curse, or a poem, which she memorised as clear as the morning’s sky. Whatever her eyes landed on, it would nudge her memory back to him.
She’d often wonder if he thought about her too, wherever he was. Onjo didn’t believe in heaven nor hell, but she whole-heartedly hoped that wherever Cheong San was, that it has beautiful.
A brave place for a brave boy.
She would cry, too. She would cry for her father, her best friend, and him. She would mourn them all at night. But crying never brought them back.
Eventually, it felt like every tear shed was a waste, but it didn’t stop her.
“I need a cigarette,” Mijin announced, throwing a limp jacket over her shoulders as she headed out. Onjo had thought about it many times, too. But what was the point of damaging her lungs when it wouldn’t bring the ones she cared for back anyway.
“Keep me company, will you? As payback for making me go get Hari.”
She’d agreed.
The air was chilly when they stepped outside, but the sky clear.
Just as Mijin flicked down on the lighter, a loud gunshot ripped through the skies.
A military man, young and barely of age, had clustered up atop the highest platform he could find in sight.
“They’re back!” He sobbed, “We’ve lost it! We’ve lost Seoul. I’m sorry-” The sentence had barely left his throat, before he reached for the gun again, releasing a bullet straight into his skull.
The cigarette remained unlit.