Chapter Text
~*~
It hit him suddenly. He was lying on his navy sofa, and heavy tears streamed down his face, turning some spots in the cloth into a darker shade of blue.
He had dreamt of his childhood friend the night before.
It all made sense to him now: why he had felt tempted to stay in bed that Sunday morning, a fuzzy, warm feeling luring him to bed; how he had strolled to the bathroom in such a good mood, brushing aside the reality that nothing nice or remotely good had happened to him all week or in the past months; how he had settled for a simple breakfast that had tasted so good, even if the edges of the bread were burnt and the coffee had an extra bitter flavor.
After a morning of insipid experiences spiced up with an unjustified good feeling, Jin settled with reading the book he should have finished last week. It was at that moment that the sudden realization struck him.
He had dreamt of his childhood friend that night — the one that had almost virtually disappeared from his life at one point, only to haunt him from time to time with that thudding feeling on his chest. The one who had painted his life with an awful palette of a melancholic and depressing shade of colors ever since.
Jin could almost laugh at his delayed reaction. It was so silly. He could laugh at the itching on his fingers, a feeling he had almost forgotten completely. Yes, he could almost laugh, but he didn’t. Instead, he rummage around for a notepad and the closest pen he could grab a hold of. Now, he was too busy scribbling letter after letter on a white page in his notebook to do anything else.
He had been reading about this woman, Esther Greenwood, who was going crazy because she couldn’t eat or sleep, but even more so because she couldn’t read or write — as if it were a bizarre parallelism to what had happened to Jin and his inability to write more than a single sentence per month for the last couple of years. Just then, the sudden memory of that honest hug he had last shared with that friend attacked Jin. He felt more than saw the warm smile and stare his friend had showered him with and the stupid jokes they had managed to squeeze between that long, cozy hug. God, the hug. It had seemed to last forever back then, but didn’t feel like enough anymore.
A lazy smile crept up his serious face and made the edges of his mouth twitch. It halted halfway through, though. He realized these images belonged to the realm of dreams and not to the corner of his precious memories; and that realization turned the smile instead into a mere intention.
They hadn’t met for years now, hadn’t shared a hug or exchanged words even. They hadn’t seen each other all grown-up. For God’s sake, Jin couldn’t even imagine how the other looked now… he wouldn’t even do it.
Jin just settled there on his dark blue sofa, the remains of an incomplete smile fusing together with The Hours soundtrack. He had unconsciously chosen to listen to it while reading about the dark life of Esther Greenwood. And now, as the pale rays of sunlight that seeped past the see-through curtains of his small living room, it was such a fitting choice.
The soundtrack and cinematography of the poignant film about his very own life.