Thousand Years like one Day
Friday of Strange Updates #3
Summary: Don't hate me. Touch me. See me. Myo-Un, Ryu-Sang and their dysfunctional relationship. OneShot.
Warning: Possible poilers for "Nabi – The Manhwa" and definite spoilders for "Nabi – The Prototype" (Nabi - Der Schmetterling), character fic. Little content. OneShot.
Set: story-unrelated.
Disclaimers: Ever seen drawings of mine? Be assured you knew if I was Kim Yeon-Joo.
The denotations are translated from French. The temple is called "House of Lotus" (Maison du Lotus), the "Mistress" is "Lady Sabu" (Dame Sabu) or "Song Howol".
He hates her.
It's not a theory, not an exaggeration. Myo-Un hasn't yet seen much in her life but she knows enough about people to be sure of what they think. And looking at Ryu-Sang she doesn't even need her intuition to know he hates her. It's a stated fact, proven the day he shattered the vase on her head. She still can see the glistening blood, the water, the flowers on the ground. She cannot remember pain though there must have been quite an amount of it. She only remembers his face as he stares at her, his blue eyes clear and unveiled. Blue Sky. Unmoved. Not one muscle in his face twitches, he is cold and unfeeling. And she realizes – she knows – that she has been dreaming again. He is not her friend. He hates her.
And she is alone.
She isn't, not in the actual sense of the word. She has all the children from the House of Lotus, Aru, Dana, Miho, Sokcheol, Jeokyeong, Oki, Jinyo, Dong-I, Seok-Ju, Orin, Myeong-Chol and Lady Sabu, their teacher and mother. Myo-Un takes care of the small ones like Aru, Oki, Dong-I and Orin. She teaches Jeokyeong, Seok-Ju and the elder children, talks to Miho, Myeong-Chol and others of her age and helps the ones older and more experienced than her, like Dana.
She is happy here.
Content.
Life is simple and yet fulfilling. Daily chores are begun and finished. Laughter pearls trough the front yard of the temple, children play games in the midday sun. The clanking of steel echoes from the courtyard in which Madame Sabu teaches the elder children the art of the sword. Elder Sisters Chun-Hui and Dana prepare the dinner and sweet scents wafts through the pastel-colored paper walls. The sun bathes the temple in soft, warm light, highlighting the bushes of camellias and the fleeting glance of children slipping in and out of the gardens. This is her world. Myo-Un cannot remember the place she has been born in. Her name isn't the name given to her by her parents. But the same way Miho, Jeokyeong and Myeong-Chol are her sisters and brothers, the same way Aru and Oki and Orin are like her own children, the same way she loves Lady Sabu as her mother. She doesn't want to be anywhere else. She doesn't want to leave. She wants to live here in all eternity, caring for the children and being protected by the high temple walls.
And then, there is Ryu-Sang.
He hates me. The thought is harsh and painful and makes her want to weep. Why? What has she done? Will she ever be able to atone for it?
He doesn't talk to her.
Since the day of their fateful encounter, he refuses to address her. He is forced to, on occasional basis. Lady Sabu wants to see you. You're supposed to help Miho get the children bathed. Don't you have better things to do than to sit on the ground and get wet. But words are meant to convey emotions and he cannot ever hide the fact that her mere presence is a nuisance to him, that her existence, in his eyes, is unnecessary.
It shouldn't, but God, how it hurts.
He doesn't touch her.
His hands stop seconds before they reach hers. Instead of taking something from her – a pen, a dish, a vial of medicine – he extends his hand and waits for her to drop it into it. He keeps his distance, more than polite, too much to remain polite. She does not expect much. She is hesitant, herself, when it comes to touching strangers. But he is no stranger and his distance is the more painful the more obvious it becomes.
She wonders what his hand would feel like.
He doesn't look at her.
His eyes seem to travel over her as soon as she is in his line of sight. Whenever she turns around to look at him she can be sure his eyes are fixed on something far away from her, ignoring her completely. Sometimes she thinks she can feel his gaze on her but it has to be an illusion because whenever she turns around, he is watching someone entirely else. Sometimes, his blue eyes stare off into nothingness.
And she finds herself praying that one day he would look at her directly.
Don't hate me. Touch me.
The sun rises and falls, moons travel across the sky. Nothing will ever change. She will be waiting for him to notice her and he will ignore her, day and night. She will wish for a smile, a gentle touch, a warm hand. He is distant, cold, unfeeling. He hates her. Whatever she has done, it is nothing she can atone for easily and she is aware of the distance that separates them, seemingly growing with every day. She doesn't want it to be like this.
See me.
Nothing changes the present, nothing can change the past. She will continue praying, continue hoping. She will continue wondering what he is thinking of and if he is fine and what he would like to eat for dinner. She will wonder what he once was and where he comes from and why he hates her so much he refuses to talk to her. And she will wonder why he always, always is there to protect her. But then, Lady Sabu probably has ordered him to do so because there is no way he would protect her if it was his decision. She is weak, she is unskilled in the arts of the sword and of no great help if it comes to fighting. She is too frail, too kind-hearted. All these attributes she blames on herself as well. She is weak. If it hadn't been for Lady Sabu she would have died. If it hadn't been for Ryu-Sang she wouldn't have known how to continue living.
If it hadn't been for Ryu-Sang she wouldn't have known what it feels like to be deemed unnecessary.
To be hated.
Stars shine through the darkness of the nights as she lies awake and dwells on the cruelness of life. She wants him to stop hating her, to touch her. But even more, she wants him to see her.
Dreams, dreams. Foolish creations of a weak mind. Myo-Un knows she never will be funny and determined like Dana, strong and skilled with the sword like Myeong-Chol or gifted with healing powers like Chun-Hui. She will stay the ordinary woman who can take care of children rather well, who serves as best as she can serve and still isn't important enough to change anything forever.
Maybe it is because she is afraid.
But even if it was it wouldn't matter, it wouldn't change anything. She will continue to live her life in the House of Lotus, in the temple that has grown to be not only her home but the place where her heart truly is. She will continue living here, helping, serving, caring, and always, always waiting.
She is sick of it. Sick of asking, wondering, wishing, hoping.
She wants it to end, this silent treatment he gives her and which she might deserve. But ten years – ten years! And still, he never shows any sign that her punishment is coming to an end. Myo-Un is seventeen years old. The last ten years feel like a thousand years to her. It's the worse because she, obviously, cannot help but think about him. She wonders whether he is okay, whether he has gotten into a fight again. When she sees the rain pour down, drenching the trees and soaking the stones, she wonders whether he won't catch a cold. When she sees the children clustering around him, begging him to tell a story, she remembers the stories he has read to her. When she helps to clean his wounds and to bandage him, she fears for his life.
He is reckless, and every time he returns injured, she dies a little bit more.
Why, she asks herself, again and again and thousand times. Why does she care for him like this? But there is no other way than wondering about him, than caring about him. Than feeling for him the way she does. He was her first friend and from her point of view, he'll always stay her best friend. He is her constant, her sky. Looking at him, she knows what to do, what is right and wrong and whether it is time to cry or to stand tall and act. Her eyes wander towards him whenever he steps into the room. He might hate her, but that doesn't mean she has to hate him, too. So she watches him from far.
See me. Touch me.
And as moons travel across the night sky, Myo-Un prays.
She's beautiful.
It's not an exaggeration. It's a fact, like the fact that summer follows spring and that children grow up. Her jet-black hair and her porcelain skin draw the gazes of people to her no matter what she does. She moves with the elegance and beauty of a princess and her voice is soft and musical. There shouldn't be people as perfect as she is, and yet, she exists, right in front of him. Ryu-Sang has looked at her and has talked to her until the day when everything fell apart, when two lives were shattered irreparably. Now, he does his best not to do so anymore. Sometimes, he succeeds. He hasn't talked to Myo-Un for ten years. He never addresses her except if he cannot help it. But looking at her is another story entirely.
Because, whatever he does and tries, his eyes instantly are drawn to her.
He would never admit it to anyone. But this temple, the House of Lotus, has become his home as much as those people he sees every day – as annoying as some of them might be – have become his family. When he was a child, living on the streets and stealing for his own survival, he would never have believed he would live in a house like this, much less being trained in swordsmanship and taught to read and to write. But it has happened and it has happened to him and he is acutely aware of the fact that Lady Sabu is providing them with an education worth the children of nobles. Why she does so is beyond him but she is the first woman that has shown him kindness and has taken care of him and he is, even if one doesn't think so from his behavior, and always will be, eternally thankful to her. Protecting her, her house and her children is not enough to pay back what she has given him. But it is a start.
He has known Myo-Un for a long time.
When snow falls, Ryu-Sang still remembers the tiny child in the arms of the Lady, her white skin startlingly pale in the cold moonlight. Red blood in her face, in her black hair, on Lady Sabu's white dress. People were running towards the returning Lady, already yelling for elder sister Miho to come. Some raced outside the temple walls, swords drawn, to search for pursuers. Only a few remembered the fact that the half-open door to the house hid half a dozen children, barely seven years old, who were staring into the yard with frightened eyes. The uproar, the red blood on the pure-white snow… It has burned itself into his memory. Red, white and black, the colors that define the girl he doesn't talk to anymore.
Spring follows winter and summer follows spring and he refuses to address her from the moment he shattered a vase on her head. He never told anyone his reason and she hasn't told anything, either, a fact that didn't really surprise him. It is just the way she is, going through life believing herself to be small and insignificant. It is like she isn't aware of herself; like she never has looked into a mirror. Sometimes, it drives him crazy. Mostly, he just gets angry. Even now, ten years later, he gets angry. It is a strange kind of anger. It is not directed towards her and yet she is the only reason for it. There is no reason to blame her and yet she is to blame for everything.
But he never has let anyone hurt her, either.
It's strange how she has withstood every single one of his attempts to make her understand he wouldn't be her friend, how she wouldn't realize he had no intention to treat her politely. His reasons aside, he has tried hard. He has ignored her, has hurt her both physically and emotionally. He has ordered her around, been impolite, demanding, unfriendly. Still, she doesn't seem to grasp the fact that he is not interested in being close. Sometimes, when he is painfully honest with himself, he thinks it might be due to the fact that he doesn't want her to hate him, either. But those moments are repressed savagely. He cannot think about it, cannot allow himself to dwell on things decided long ago. There is no way to change the past and the past influences the future and everything within the present. They are bound to the path fate has drawn for them and they cannot ever leave it. Even if that means they will walk side by side and never meet.
Every year, the camellias bloom prettier than before.
Their red, half-open petals remind him of lips. When they are in full bloom, they fall to the ground and the red petals on the white stone floor ignite the picture once again and every year. Red blood on white snow. Myo-Un treats him like she treats any other member of the temple, with kind politeness and the same devotion she shows to the little ones. But still, there is something in her way of watching him that makes him itchy. It shouldn't be like this, he thinks and ignores her even more fiercely. She shouldn't care for him the way she does. It's not right. He has hurt her, he has treated her badly. She helps to bandage his injuries whenever he returns from a fight. She watches him sleep when he is sick. She brings food for him when he is on guard duty. She smiles at him, looks at him, watches him, cries for him and yet he hasn't deserved anything she gives.
Her dark eyes follow him into his dreams.
Everything of her is beautiful. Her hands. Her eyes. Her face. Her hair. Her voice. Her lips. The way she moves. The way she smiles. The way she reaches out for others, even for him.
But she doesn't change.
Myo-Un. Cloud in the sky.
Many days he has watched the clouds and seen them change. They change color, shape, height and distance. They never look the same. Depending on their shape and form one can judge the weather, as one can judge the mood of people by their facial expressions. Whenever Dana is angry, her forehead is creased and her brows twitch. When Jeokyeong is happy, he grins with his eyes almost closed. And Lady Sabu's kind expression can turn into one of fierce anger when she sees some children fighting. He himself has experienced it often enough. But whatever Myo-Un thinks and feels, it stays hidden behind her solemn face and her never-ending politeness. He can hurt her and she cries, yes. Someone else jokes and she smiles, yes. But she doesn't get angry. He can order her around, ignore her, blame her, mock her and try to talk to her honestly and she will only look at him and maybe smile. He cannot remember having seen her angry, sad or furious. She seems to know no emotion except kindness and politeness and whatever he does, he cannot trigger another reaction from her. Except when she blushes. It is then when he can see something under her passive face, something that makes him want to grip and hold it and examine it closer. But she retreats quickly, either fleeing him (he cannot blame her) or hiding behind her mask. And, knowing this is the way it is supposed to be, he forces himself to stand back and let her go.
Sometime, he wonders.
What would it be like to be able to treat her differently? What would it be like to see her smiling at him honestly, to see her talking to him without reverence and hesitation? What would it feel like to be able to watch her freely and to feel her hand actually touch his instead of waiting till she drops the items into his hands? Ryu-Sang is seventeen years old. The years he has known Mo-Un feel like one single day. She is everything he knows, what draws in his eyes when he enters a room, what makes him feel at home when he returns from travels and what reminds him to go on when he's tired and exhausted.
But then, he remembers.
Trees carry blossoms and leaves and icicles. Seasons change and he merely watches her from far. But this is the way it is supposed to be, this is the way it always was and it won't change. Screaming and crying won't change anything. And he prefers to watch her from far instead of leaving the temple entirely. It might be difficult, but it is possible. Lady Sabu has caused him only pain and problems by ordering him to take care of her. Once, she tried to apologize or at least to explain but he didn't let her finish. It's not her responsibility anymore, it is his. He has gotten himself into this mess and he will deal with it as best as he can. He won't try to run and he won't try to hide and yet he won't ever tell her. This is the way he lives his life.
And because he cannot tell her, he remains silent.
He doesn't talk to her more than necessary. He never touches her if he can avoid it. He avoids her gaze and her questioning looks and her pleading eyes and looks into the other direction. He cuts off her sentences and orders her around watches her from the window and lays awake when she is away. And he protects her, because this is what he has promised (he won't go back on his word) and she is worth it. Her life is worth every second of his time.
And as suns rise and fall, Ryu-Sang watches.
A/N Because there is nothing more beautiful than Kim Yeon-Joo's drawings and her stories and because I love this manhwa so much.