The bell around her throat chimed angelically as she tilted her head back and to the side, resting her head on her shoulder. Her damp hair clung to the side of her face as she gazed at him where he sat on the other side of the room. He felt numinous looking at someone like her.
"So," she questioned, "what game are we playing this time?"


5. 05

"Too lost and hurting, to carry your load. We all need someone to stay."


CORA hated the fact that Jaehyun carried her all the way home on his back. She hated the fact that he even asked if she was tired in the first place. After turning down the offer to carry her in the first place, Jaehyun took off his jacket at tied it's arms around her waist. He was so close, too close. She noticed that he smelled like a tree... Eucalyptus. She must have fallen asleep before they even reached her house. 

When she woke up it was about 2 AM. She showered and washed her hair, standing under the water and willingly letting the shampoo water drip into her eyes, she remembered the nights events. The beautiful shattered glass, the sound of her fathers voice, the gunshot, the woman, her fathers last words... His last "I love you," and his blood on her hands.

 Cora became alert all of a sudden. The shower water had turned cold. Quickly, she turned it off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her pale body. As usual, she avoided looking at her face in the mirror. This time it wasn't out of just habit, but so that she wouldn't hear her father right behind her, telling her that she was one of the strongest people he knew.

One of the best.

It's only been about a week. The funeral came too soon. Happened too fast. Even though she had the time in bed, locked away in her room, Cora never let the fact that her father was dead sink in. It hurt too much. She felt cold and alone, and set every photo of him upside down so she wouldn't have too look at him. The only thing that could make her feel any worse, is if her past came back to look her in the eyes again.

Sitting on the couch, her tie loose, Cora looked through her phone, answering false condolences with her own equally false thanks. She stood up when the doorbell rand, adjusting her skirt, not even bothering to make sure the hair on her head looked presentable. When she opened the door she froze. 

 Before her stood a boy, his hands holding her favorite flowers.

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