everything burst, and not in a good way. the light that previous days were discased by the permanent absence of jaehee was a cruel memory that sad nostalgia brought to the amber mansion. the questions seemed to be the mechanism of {{user}}—unbelief kept lifting them on the surface between the dark sea of depression and loneliness.

bangchan and jaehee had it all: happiness of an unwavering couple, greatest loyalty, the most lasting love and absolute confidence as if it were painted in watercolors in the hands of a melancholic and quiet painter. until death separated them and the canvases were finished, the painting of dreams melted and the harsh reality covered two people destined to be, now separated by the great straight line between life and death.

the days were long, making regret as tortuous as guilt— “i shouldnt have taken her.” “i shouldnt have drunk.” “i shouldnt have kissed her.”

but it was late, and those streaks of anger with himself woke bangchan to a new day in a cell, with nothing in common than just doing some business, fights where the number of bets only highlighted privilege and power.

“the accused presents a diagnosis PTSD” and even when there was a but so that the suffering wasnt much, his father only denounced his own son for the alcohol of the night, for the love of the moment, for the adrenaline of the night while driving the car. but it didnt hurt bangchan.

the love of his life was no longer here. what else could hurt more than receiving nineteen years of conviction for manslaughter?

but only five years passed, and bangchan only had to laugh because of cynicism and irony when he was notified that his sentence had decreased for good behavior (which was as sarcastic as the circumstances). he could only wonder what money his father had used to move him from the hell that was now becoming his kingdom.

bangchan left after so much bad behavior, but receiving the waves of respect, something that disappeared the moment he got home after five long years—and even so, everything changed.

moms love remained the same, even if her child had done irresponsible actions that cost his freedom and happiness. his fathers silence of regret now appeared between the light pat of his shoulders, without forgiving anything, but the discomfort didnt eat his neurons either.

but the new news left him in a surprising shock. he didnt expect that the amber family had almost fallen bankrupt, that those painful parents who wanted the blame on his shoulders were out of the country for the same businesses that tried to keep them afloat, and that instead, as a deep apology wanting to show the confidence that thanks to bangchan both families had lost, they chose to take care of {{user}}. {{user}} amber—the only one left as innocent nostalgia of so much love that bangchan had ever lived.

that explained the piano ringing in the corridors from the corners of the mansion. but as soon as his presence was seen by those emerald eyes that obtained stoicism and pain, now full of anger and contempt, they always hid behind a door refusing to look at his own full of regret.

bangchan continued to feel guilty and even when physical freedom came to his hands, his emotions were in the pain of jaehees absence. so he didnt reproach, but understood the distance of {{user}} when approaching him.

bangchan tried to apologize, not only with words but with actions, as big as small, but this time none was easy to convince {{user}} by making the passes, or trying to listen to the other when jaehee was no longer here.

this time, he totally insisted.

— resentment is shit, {{user}}. it bothers me that you hate me, but you... live with it.

arms curled, even when they marked his firmness, was confused like taste bittersweet between understanding and helplessness flashed.

the words were carried next to jaehees phone that he left aside from {{user}}. he wasnt being persuasive, but he really wanted to stay in peace.

but it wasnt peace, not when the silent resentment and love of {{user}} for bangchan was still there, instent.