This Fic is direct sequel to my other fic "I have my best thoughts in the shower". You can find me on tumblr: fromthedeskofelizabeththird
This fic deals with suicide, drowning and eye trauma. It's also spoilery
11 pm
Under ordinary circumstances, Jihyun liked rain.
He liked the gentle humming sound it made and the scent that it left behind. He was in awe of thunder and an admirer of lightening and did not even mind the winter so long as he had somewhere warm to sit.
On this occasion, though, it had been raining for hours and his glasses were soaked. The downpour had transformed his shirt from its usual grey to a shimmering black that he might have found beautiful under different circumstances and every so often, a drop of rainwater would dribble from the ends of his hair to the bones of his face, giving the impression of a stray tear.
Even he had to laugh at how miserable he looked and, hands shaking, he lifted his camera.
Cheese! He thought, baring his teeth and taking the picture.
For a moment, he caught himself wondering if it was bad luck for a photographer to take his own picture.
Luck. Now's there's an interesting concept.
Rika had always said a person could be lucky by smiling and saying the right thing at the proper time. She said a lot of things, though, and he found himself wondering about all of them as the wind whipped through his hair and he leaned against the railing, lifting his camera to take a picture of the tides.
He took her there once on a sunnier day. She wanted to see where he had taken the picture that first inspired her to speak to him and it did not matter how many times he told her that it was the spot where the sea and the sky met, for she would ask about it in any given moment of silence. When he finally saw her standing there in the warmth of the afternoon sun, he had to admit that he did not know why he had kept it from her. She stared at the sky for so long in the end that the sun set and the moon shone across the water, leaving the pair of them standing there in mutually appreciative silence.
The air was cleaner there and the lighting almost never the same twice. It was one of his favourite places and he stumbled across it quite by chance, leaving him overjoyed at his his extraordinary luck, though now...now he found himself paying closer attention to Rika's words. Perhaps it was not luck that led him there after all, but something far more intricate, like karma.
In all of the time he went there for photographs, the sun had always been warm on his back. The lighting had always been perfect and he had never been anything less than astounded at the magnificence of his surroundings. The day the police came, however, there was a thunderstorm and he had taken them, shivering, to the side of the water.
He did not know why he chose that as the site for his deception. Perhaps it came from some vain hope that she might still be standing there, watching the sun's reflection. All he knew was that his lies spread far below the dark waters and every time he returned, the place was choked of everything that once made it beautiful.
He was reminded of the way his mother withered away, slowly at first and then so quickly that it seemed to happen overnight. She was bright too once: as warm as the sun and equally as awe-inspiring. He only wished he could forget the last time he had seen her; clammy hands cradling his face and sobbing.
She had begged him to be kind, if he could be nothing else. Kind even as his heart was breaking. Kind even if his heart was loathing. She had begged him to promise her that and he, tearful too, had agreed. He did not feel kind, though, as he watched the stormy seas. He who had ruined so many of the things he had come to love. He was half convinced of blood on his hands, even though he knew that no one had died.
With a sharp breath, he hoisted himself over the rail and gripped onto it tightly as he positioned himself on the edge. The waters below were choppy and he found himself oddly captivated by them. He had never before come so close to looking into his own soul; he who was drowning in his own depth of feeling and miles from the surface.
He could not single out an individual reason why he let go in the end. Perhaps it was the hopelessness of his current situation, combined with the overwhelming prospect of spending his days in a world that refused to sit still for a photograph.
He did not fight the tides as he sank under the water and it was only as an afterthought that he noticed his glasses float away into the distance. He closed his eyes upon the consideration that perhaps without his toxic karma, the world would be a better place.
As his ears began to ring, he remembered his mother. He remembered the bones of her face and the bags under her eyes that grew darker with every medication. He remembered her thinning hair and bony fingers and the way the dust gathered in their music room.
And only then did he struggle against the tides. Only then did he burst through to the surface and gasp, for Rika was not dead yet and neither was he.
There was still time.
12:21 am
Jihyun was not entirely sure how long he sat by the water in the end, catching his breath with the rain hammering against his face. He did know that it was a little after midnight when he all but collapsed in the front seat of his car. By then he was drenched from the water and had thrown up several times en route, his legs several times heavier than he remembered.
He had only planned to stay at the waterside for a few minutes and had not bothered to take his coffee with him. In his absence, it had filled the car with its scent and he mused over the possibility that it might still be warm as he took his phone from the glove compartment and dialed Jumin's number from muscle memory.
It did not cross his mind that his friend might be sleeping and Jihyun's heart sank at the groggy sound of his voice as he answered the phone.
"Is something the matter?"
Jumin always did get to the point.
"I had a missed call from you," said Jihyun. "You called me."
Silence. Followed by a deep sigh on the other end of the line.
"I called you three days ago," said Jumin. "I left you a voicemail message and an e-mail for clarification. Now-"
Wherever he was, he shifted his weight.
"-what is the matter?"
He might have been half asleep, but he was all business and Jihyun sipped his coffee in an attempt to calm his nerves. He regretted it almost instantly. Somehow it was colder than the ocean he'd just crawled out of.
"I've been thinking," he said, putting it back in the cup holder near his glove compartment and wondering if it was better or worse that the ocean had tasted better.
"You called me to...tell me that?" Jumin ventured.
"No!" Jihyun groaned, his gaze drifting across to the passenger seat. "I've been thinking about Rika and...and karma. And-"
For a moment he forgot that his clothes were so wet and he sat back in his seat, only to flinch at the sensation of them touching him.
"Next week," he said. "Can we go for coffee?"
If Jumin was baffled he remained quiet about it.
"Of course," he said. "I'll confirm my schedule in the morning."
For a while, the only sound was the rain on the roof of his car.
"Was that... everything?"
Jihyun took in his wet clothes. His missing glasses. The empty passenger seat and the cold coffee.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I'm sorry for calling so late. And I'm sorry I didn't return your e-mail..or your calls. I've just," he sighed and ran his fingers through his dripping hair, "been very busy."
He chuckled then, taking in his own reflection in the rear view mirror.
"It's going to sound like a cliché, but I think that things are going to get better."
For a while, the only sound was the rain on the roof of his car. When he finally broke the silence, Jumin did not sound in the least convinced.
"I'm glad."
1.30 am
They lit the castle by candles at night. The glow from its windows illuminated the forest and cast dark shadows in the strangest of places. Somehow the rain only made it even more foreboding, like something out of a fairytale gone wrong. Jihyun half expected the doors to open by themselves or a suit of armour to move by itself in some long forgotten corridor.
She had been expecting him, but it became increasingly apparent that he had not been expecting her. The moment he entered the building, he took several steps back at the vision of her silhouette in the glow of no less than one hundred candles.
The artist in him wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and pore over every angle of the room. Every change in lighting. Every texture. He wanted to document all of it. The rest of him, however, was horrified.
"Why did you come here?" She asked, without turning away from the strange altar in front of her.
He did not know why, but he had expected her voice to be different. It shook him to his core when it sounded almost exactly the same.
"Rika," he said, unable to stop staring at the way the light danced upon her golden hair. "Please listen to what I have to say."
"You've said enough," she said.
Behind them, the clock struck two.
"No," he rushed towards her and reached for her hand. "I don't believe that. I can't believe that. The Rika that I loved would never do something like this. The Rika I loved was kind and gentle and loved other people and would do anything to make them happy and everyone loved her."
Only as he said it did he realise that he might have been using her name, but he was not speaking about her. He was speaking of some other woman, long dead and buried in reality but forever dying in his soul.
"She...she saw the best in others," he said, continuing on anyway. "She inspired them to be better; to be as kind as she was and I know she's in there. I know...I can feel it in my soul...you can still be her. It's not too late."
Rika glanced up at him, tears welling in her eyes.
"Rika," he said. "Come back to me. We can put things back the way they were. We can be the way we were."
"V," she said, so softly that he barely heard it, "that person…"
She reached up to cradle his face in her hands and even as he leaned into her touches, he knew he was thinking of someone else.
Rika stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before leaning over to whisper in his ear.
"Fuck her," she hissed, before driving her thumbs into his eyes.
He jumped back, roaring in agony and clapping both hands over the bloody sockets.
"Rika," he cried out, "why?"
2:15 am
It was hard to form words. His other senses were quickly compensating for the sudden vision loss, leaving him all but overwhelmed by the agony of his injury and nauseous from the blood that poured down his face.
"Rika?" He called out again.
"Rika?"
"Jihyun."
He tore at his face, his chest heaving.
"Rika?!"
"Jihyun."
Someone was stroking his shoulder.
"Jihyun, you're not there anymore," that someone said.
He took a deep breath and slowly, hands shaking, lowered them from his eyes. He almost burst into tears of relief when he realised his hands were not in the least bit bloody.
"Jihyun, do you know where you are?"
He blinked. Glanced around the room.
That's right. He was in Jumin's penthouse, tucked up in bed and in a cold sweat. Jumin sat to his left, bleary eyed but direct in his questions.
"Nari fetched some water. Would you like some?"
She sat to his right; the same glass of water that she fetched for him every night. It was Nari that had been stroking his shoulder.
He was not quite ready to speak so instead nodded at the prospect of water and Nari put the glass to his lips. His hands were shaky too.
"That was a bad one," she said. "Would you like more?"
"No," he said. "...No thank you."
He laid back down, closing his eyes as Nari stroked his arm.
"Are you feeling better?" Jumin asked when he had finally stopped shaking.
It was a strange question to come from him and Jihyun could not help but smile into the pillows.
"I think my karma is," he said.
3:04 am
They wrapped V in a warm blanket and left to brew a pot of tea in the kitchen. He had Elizabeth for company and they needed to take a breather to process the night's events.
Nari did not know when exactly their nightly routine had gotten to the point of clockwork: Jumin rousing him back to consciousness while she disappeared into the kitchen and fetched water. At first, Jumin had sent her out of the room entirely to avoid seeing the more frightening of V's outbursts and out of her feelings of helplessness came a need to do something.
Nari and Jumin always talked about it after and again with V in the morning so he could mention it to his therapist. Ordinarily, Jumin did not say much on the topic, but on this occasion, Nari could tell that something was bothering him.
"You okay?" She asked, leaning her head into his chest.
"Karma," he said.
"What about it?"
Jumin took a sip of his tea, his face almost unreadable.
"He said it that time too."