A LEAP OF FAITH

Fifth Step

Fifth Step

March 14, 2002

3:45 a.m.

Jung Jin

I stared at my hotel room ceiling, listening to the clock ticking as I struggled to fall asleep. From my periphery I could see that the city was still alive, the neon lights flashing like multicolored stars outside the window.

I turned onto my abdomen and scrunched the pillow under my head.

All week I'd barely slept, despite doing my usual routine of working out before heading to the office, then visiting Joon at the training field.  It seemed that my insomnia was getting worse. I would say that I didn't know why but I did.

Always in the darkness of night, poised over the oblivion of sleep, my mind releases its breath and thoughts of her come flooding in. As if just waiting for the right moment. As if knowing exactly when I would not be able to fight against them.

I dared not think of her lying in my guest room or of her sitting on my couch. I dared not think of her touching my things, invading the space I'd long held private and sacred, unaware that even by permitting her into my abode, I had already broken one of my rules. I didn’t need to be imagining her as part of my world here at home. She was a part of my closed San Francisco chapter, nothing more.

Liar.

I had thought that in doing what I could do for her under these circumstances, I would be able to let go of this confusing, exasperating interest, but I was wrong. The questions persisted and swirled in my head. Every. Single. Fucking.  Night.

Did she think of me today? Did she miss me, too?

Pathetic.

I had long ago vowed that I wouldn't be that person anymore. So what was I doing?

I barely knew her. She barely knew me.

I knew all this, acknowledged that the way I felt for her made no sense whatsoever.

My mind keeps wandering back to the night in Hongdae, when she admitted while intoxicated that she may have liked me after all. Someone really ought to tell the woman that she is not a very good drunk.

After all the pushing and pulling, all of the rejection, the feeling of triumph had been surprisingly fleeting. The feeling of indignation from her insisting that I wasn't the Jung Jin she had in her memories lasted a bit longer. Even more confounding was what I felt now... the sense of loss, heavy and dull. It felt like I had missed out on an opportunity.

Like I had, somehow, missed my chance.

I should have stayed that night when I found her on the roof wearing my jacket. I could have talked to her, held her in my arms, offered my company.  I could have done many things but I did not.

I chose to be the guy who didn't follow through, the guy who doesn't step up when it was actually important. Unlike the man she envisioned me, or the alternate version of me, to be. He would have known what to do. He wouldn't have been frozen, paralyzed by fear and ego. He would have thought of her first.

She said I'm not him. And she was right.

The way she spoke about him, me, him, had been wistful and dreamy, her voice full of longing. I wanted to be him. The Jung Jin in her mind.

I may not have wanted this, but I... I want her, I admitted silently. I want her.

I want her in a way that defied explanation, in a way that I couldn't even reason myself out of. San Francisco hadn't worked out well for me, but we were in Korea now. My home turf. I had the advantage.