Cries of Salvation (BL)

[….]

Wherever Haon looked, there was only suffocating darkness. Granted, that was how his sight normally perceived everything, but something about it felt off this time, as though the shadows themselves were watching him.

"Hello, is anyone there?" he called out in a trembling voice despite his best effort to sound brave. And what greeted him back was none other than his own frightened words, returning to him in a brittle echo.

"…?"

Gulping in fear, his ears strained to listen for any more unusual sounds, stretching for even the faintest whisper in the silence. However, all he could make out was his own ragged breathing, being far too loud in the oppressive void.

Why is he in this nightmare again?

Why does it keep torturing him?

These were the relentless questions swirling around his head.

Although one thing was definitely certain: This place was nothing but a warp nightmare. A product of his restless mind.

Gritting his teeth, he walked and walked, trying to find his way out, each step meeting the unseen floor with a lifeless weight. But no matter where he went, the space was endless–stretching infinitely, as if time itself had fractured.

'Wake up. Please wake up.'

He desperately pleaded with himself as he fought to free his mind from the nightmarish grip. 'I have to get out of here.'

By now, his feet had grown utterly tired from his aimless wandering, the ache slowly spreading up into his legs. With his hopes dwindling, he plopped down to huddle on himself like a scared child, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.

~

It was then he heard an echo of a voice, distant and wavering like a ripple over still water, making him perk up his head. He strained his ears again, harder this time to check if it was true, holding his breath without even realizing it.

Haon….

Haon… Come here.

'What a warm voice,' he thought, comforted by the glimmer of solace that pierced through the void like a thread of gold in a sea of black.

Faced with a newfound determination, he stood up and let the voice guide him to wherever it was taking him. He had only taken a few dozen steps when the voice disappeared once again, allowing the eerie silence to return in its place, more suffocating than before.

[…]

Startled and panic-stricken, he started chasing down the direction where he had last heard the voice, his steps blurred with urgency… until… he stumbled down hard, the impact jarring through his limbs.

ACK-

The next moment, Haon was miraculously greeted by the sound of chirping birds.

His fingers shifted, feeling the soft bedsheet underneath his touch and the beads of cold sweat forming on his skin.

'I finally managed to wake up,' he breathed a sigh of relief, surrounded by the familiar shade that never lifted.

Peeling back the blanket from his sluggish body, he began to lazily rummage around the bed, the fabric rustling beneath his searching hands.

He kept fumbling around, hoping to find the familiar feel of the cotton shawl he used to tie around his eye. But alas, it was nowhere to be found, only cool emptiness meeting his touch.

"Did he throw it out of the bed again?" Haon mumbled under his breath, recalling the extremely bad habit of the man who had been accompanying him till late at night.

The sheet beside him was already stripped of warmth, with no trace left behind to show that someone had ever been there.

'I tell him every time, but Sir Noha never listens.'

He shook his head in disapproval before expertly sliding down the bed, and trailing his lean fingers along the floor to continue with his search. Until finally, the sensation of the fabric made him stop.

"There it is," he chirped gleefully.

Clutching the piece of cloth, he stood and made his way to freshen up for the day.

He washed his face with cold water and dabbed it clean before tying up the fabric over his eyes. It gave him a strange sense of comfort… something to hide behind, even if it no longer mattered.

Then, he began to prepare breakfast by the hearth, where embers from the night before rested like sleeping coals, waiting to be stirred awake. The low flames licked the base of the cooking pot, sending golden shivers across the modest kitchen space.

Apart from his sense of hearing being immaculate, this was a morning routine Haon had grown accustomed to, allowing his movements to appear fluid and deliberate.

If anyone who didn't know him were to witness him in that moment, they would have assumed that he was like any other normal person. Not blind, and certainly not a detestable Hwarin.

Oh, how he wished that was how people perceived him!

It was a ridiculous thought, one he was quick to dismiss, but it lightened his mood nonetheless.

With a warm meal fully plated on a wooden tray, he toddled along the familiar creaking floorboards toward the bedroom door of Grandma Mihum, counting each step as he went.

Entering in, he settled the food down on the bedside table and leaned in to wake the sleeping figure, careful not to startle her.

"Grandma, breakfast is ready," he sang in a singsong whisper, gently nudging the shoulder of the old woman.

It took a few more tries before she fluttered her lids open, her breath catching briefly as her clouded eyes met the delicate silhouette of the young man standing before her.

"Haon, my dear. You're up early. Did your shift change again?" she asked in a wary manner, and the young man just smiled in return, brushing her hand as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Worry not, Grandma. I'm having fun playing my xulin as well. And in return, I'm getting good money."

"If that's how you wish, my dear. I'm fine as long as you are happy."

"Grandma," Haon called lovingly, his cords dipping into something fog-like as he leaned closer and lay down his head on her lap for a while. "Be safe while I'm out, okay? Don't wander around on your own."

"Well, aren't you treating me like a child?" she huffed playfully, stroking his hair with her thin fingers. "I recall it was only a few years back when I used to hold your hand and lead you everywhere we went."

Haon simply giggled, a soft laugh bubbling from his lips as he thought back to those memories… memories of when he had first arrived in Sufen and everything felt unfamiliar.

The air and the land smelled different. The people were distant, their dialect unfamiliar. And the surroundings… they felt far too vast for someone who couldn't see.

He had only managed to adapt to this strange new life because of Grandma Mihum's help. Without her, he couldn't even begin to imagine how lost or broken he might've become.

No doubt, he would've been dead a long time ago.

Fortunately, his fate hadn't darkened like his vision.

After feeding Grandma Mihum her breakfast and listening to her contented hums between bites, Haon got himself ready to go out. His hand carefully reached for the worn wooden case that held his instrument–his beloved xulin.

And he was ready to face another day.