Jeon stirred awake, a sense of disorientation clouding his mind. He blinked against the dimness, attempting to summon his powers to close the window, only to realize with a start that they were gone. Frustrated, he rose from his bed, the wooden floor cool beneath his feet, and manually shut the window. He turned, his eyes landing on an unusual sight—a giant green caterpillar, nestled snugly in a sleeping bag, lay on the floor.
"What are you doing, Sarah?" Jeon asked, nudging the caterpillar with his foot. To his surprise, the caterpillar was Sarah, wrapped in a green sleeping bag. She had chosen it to be near him during his illness. However, she was now trapped inside, the zipper and head button stubbornly jammed.
"Can you help me out of here?" Sarah pleaded, her voice muffled yet earnest. Jeon, still groggy and irritable, refused. "Stop bothering me and just stay like that." His words sliced through the air, leaving Sarah in disbelief and frustration. She had cared for him, yet here he was, dismissing her plight so easily.
Jeon spent the following days in a haze of introspection, haunted by his lack of powers. Meanwhile, Sarah lay cocooned, her thoughts a whirlpool of betrayal and disappointment. Each passing hour tested the fabric of their friendship, weaving a tapestry of humor and tension that neither could ignore.
A month had passed, and Jeon finally confronted his own reluctance. He approached the sleeping bag, his fingers gingerly working at the zipper and button. "I'm sorry, Sarah," he murmured, more to himself than to her. Sarah, weary but hopeful, felt the tension of the sleeping bag finally give way.
As the sleeping bag finally opened, Sarah emerged, her expression a mix of relief and exasperation. "Took you long enough," she teased, her eyes twinkling with a rekindled warmth. Jeon chuckled, a sense of peace washing over him. Their friendship, though tested, had endured, and with it came the promise of healing and understanding.
