garden of fools. | 범규 √

PROLOGUE

"TRAGEDY WAS ONLY A LIE."

FEBRUARY 14, 2021 — 00:01 AM

I had to say, it was a bit funny.

Snow poured down these days like crazy despite a hot globe, creating melted hands that fused and wrapped arms that created tension and heat between the ones who deserved it. All I had was his lighter, lighting the cigarette between the dent of my fingers. 

My lungs inhaled the smoke only to simply exhale it out, the heat reassuring me even with no one by my side. 

I shouldn't be out.

I shouldn't be out at the dawn of Valentine's day—considering I had no one to be celebrating love and life with anyways. However, as always, I appreciated the sweet facial expressions of the ones in love at this time, ones that glanced at me back that could tell me that it's okay to be alone in a year like this.

It was a trend to be alone, it seems—but it was also a trend to kiss, hug, and fuck one another. I wasn't into both of those ideas, but it's not like I was needy to be in a relationship anymore. I was desperate when textbooks had to be opened and you had to read by that bitchy book, but nowadays, I think of watching others from afar as my learning experience.

Speaking of learning, I was graduating this year. I had far better expectations of myself than to graduate so early at four years—but I got really fucking tired of it. Like any student would, grab your diploma and go. 

My phone rings in between my smoke, causing me to puff out the heat that was going to re-enter me and seduce me again. Answering the call, I press my phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Yang Yihwa!" My roommate yells, causing me to hiss. I place my phone away from my ear slightly, trying to ignore her overdramatic yelling. I loved her—lots, must I say—but she was so fucking noisy. "Get your ass back to the dorms! The lady is asking for you!"

"Ah, okay," I reply, letting my cigarette fall to the floor as I use the heel of my shoe to break it apart. "I'm on my way, thanks."

"Mm~" She ends the call, allowing me to place my phone back in my pocket. As I start to walk, I become aware of the place I'm standing in.

Every Valentine's day, I seem to walk my way back to you. Back to the garden that I remember meeting you at in high school. You were taller than most of the kids entering the grade, and you liked playing in the band with one of your friends. I wonder if you still play guitar or enjoy impressing people with your basketball skills.

You still had somewhat short hair then—so I wonder what it would look like now.

I wonder who you've become now, who you pretend to be, who you want to be. Whoever you are now, I hope he was better than you of the past.

I can't even think of you as someone good these days. You still sicken me even when it's been four years since I saw you—when I left you in that garden for good. When I put up my front because anything from you meant a whole lot of shit poured onto me—and since we were graduating, I could escape.

Why is it now, that escaping hurt so bad? 

Was it because of my cigarette this time? Or was it because I was reminiscing about you?

The butterflies weren't out at this time of night, and I was well-assured that they wouldn't. I wonder if I saw one, would I cry until my knees give way? Or would I try to kill one because one tried to kill me? 

After all, we were "love foolish."—thinking it was love when it wasn't.

Is it time to really give up? To give you up?

I should, I would, I honestly could—but a part of me doesn't want to.

Maybe I should leave. It's Valentine's day, I don't belong here, not when I don't have you by my side- or truly anyone.

I still don't know why I have your lighter—and why I still use it to light a cigarette that lights up my life.

Just like saying I don't know why I still remember you, Choi Beomgyu...

when all you've done to my life is fucking shatter it like stained glass—leaving me to pick up the pieces?

There's no reason for me not to give you up. 

But I just don't feel the need to—not yet.

Not until I meet you again,

from a butterfly—to a butterfly.