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PROLOGUE
JINSOUL
times on times, i passed by the empty room jungeun used to call her art studio. the aura she left behind never faded, a constant reminder of the energy and passion that once filled this space. it was a distraction i always felt was necessary, though never quite enough for her, per se. i remember how it felt—the warmth of her skin against mine, indescribable, the energy she exuded lighting up a room like the boldest, brightest hues of red.
though my roommate sooyoung never saw the true beauty in it all. she never understood the emotions, the passion, the tenderness jungeun gave to me. as if i was a delicate flower, fragile but cherished. the thrill i felt when our lips collided, the intimacy of her soft touch grazing my skin—those moments were sacred. the way her eyes would light up, a spark igniting every time we were together. it was astonishing, as if i could live in that moment forever. i would have done anything to make time stop.
but that was before. now, my heart races for different reasons. every day, the love we shared diminishes further, slipping away from me. and oh, how i miss my dear jungeun. i could say her name all day, from dawn until dusk, and never grow tired of it. i whisper it to the empty room, hoping it will summon her back. kim jungeun. the name, a melody that haunts my every waking moment. it replays in my mind, over and over, a song i can't stop singing.
the paint she used to smear onto the canvas of my heart still lingers. it's as vivid as the canvases i gifted her for her 19th birthday, as vivid as the easel i gave her 318 days after that. she always had that glint in her eyes, a hint of mischief, of daring. behind her smile, there was always a deep connection, a fulfilling secret she never quite shared with the world. do you expect me to tell you? no, that's a secret i'll take to the grave with me. just because we aren't together now doesn't change that. some things, some moments, are too precious to give away.
and yet, i can't help but wonder, should i reach out to her? but every time i try, she keeps slipping further and further away from my grasp. it's like chasing a shadow—always there but never tangible. her name is a ghost in my throat, a whisper that turns into a sob, and no matter how many times i throw her name into the silence, it keeps coming back. i'm left weeping, yearning for her, for what we had. the wanting never stops. it never fades.
the love she gave me was unlike anything else. her smile—god, her smile. i can see it now, her cheekbones lifting as her grin widens. she could light up my entire world with just that one look. but now i wonder, did she just need time for herself? could i have given her that space? was i truly that unbearable? i ask myself these questions over and over again, trying to understand why i was never enough. why i'll never be enough—for her, for anyone.
and yet, i still want to sing her name. maybe that will bring her back to me. maybe if i sing it loud enough, the universe will listen, and jungeun will return. i should have brought an umbrella today; i've grown to enjoy the silent sounds of the rain. it's soothing, in a way—like the world is crying with me, mourning what we lost. the salt-filled precipitation feels right, like it's washing away the last remnants of the happiness i once had.
the nights without her are the worst. they stretch endlessly, like the silence between the ticking of a forgotten clock. i used to find peace in that silence, back when jungeun would fill it with her laughter, her words, her art. now, the quiet feels oppressive, suffocating. it's a void that swallows me whole, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my regrets.
i can still smell her perfume, faint but lingering in the creases of my pillowcase. i haven't washed it in weeks. maybe that's pathetic. maybe it's just the only way i know how to keep her close. it's a reminder that she was real, that we were real—once. even if it's fleeting, i'll take whatever pieces of her i can still hold onto. the scent, the canvases she painted—they're all that's left. each one is like an exhibit of our love and pain, our passion and torment. every stroke of her brush was unique, deliberate, but somehow always felt unfinished. just like us. incomplete.
perhaps that's why she left. jungeun was always searching for more—more inspiration, more depth, more life. i was just another canvas for her to fill, another layer of paint she'd apply before moving on to the next masterpiece. yet, i ache for the moments when her hands—those delicate, artistic hands—would brush against mine. when she'd look at me as if i was the muse she'd been searching for her entire life.
sooyoung never knew. how could she? she's kind, loyal, and understanding in ways i don't deserve. she's been by my side through everything, a constant presence i've taken for granted. but she never saw the way jungeun's presence changed the air, how it made the world seem more alive. more dangerous. more intoxicating. sooyoung is safe, the kind of steady heartbeat that makes you forget the thrill of being on the edge. but jungeun? jungeun was fire. she burned everything she touched, leaving me with nothing but the ashes of what we used to be.
and still, i can't let her go. it's strange, how i keep thinking that if i could just touch her again—just once—i'd understand. i'd know what went wrong. i'd know why it still hurts so damn much. it's not her absence that kills me. it's the memories. the fragments of our love that refuse to let go, refuse to fade.
they say time heals all wounds, but time seems to be working against me. each day feels heavier, the weight of what we lost pressing down on my chest. i thought i could move on, that the pain would fade like a bruise. but it hasn't. if anything, it's only grown more vivid. and yet, i don't want to forget. the pain is all i have left of her. it's my last connection to jungeun, my final thread to the person i once loved.
the rain is falling heavier now, tapping against the window in a rhythmic beat that matches the slow, painful thudding in my chest. i should go outside, stand in the downpour, and let it wash me clean. maybe then, the rain will carry her name away, and i'll finally be able to breathe again without choking on the syllables. kim jungeun. kim jungeun. the name that never stops echoing in my mind.
but i won't go outside. i won't let her go. not yet. because part of me still believes—still hopes—that maybe, just maybe, she'll come back. that the door to that empty room she once called her art will open again. that jungeun will walk through it, with that daredevil smile of hers, and tell me it was all just a misunderstanding.
and so i wait. in this rain. in this silence. in the spaces between the memories of her that refuse to fade. because jungeun is the kind of love you don't forget. she's the kind of love you live with—forever.
it's foolish to hope. i know that. maybe she's already forgotten me. maybe that's why it hurts so much, why her name haunts me in every moment of silence, in every drop of rain. i keep telling myself that this is just how things are, that people leave, that love fades. but still, i can't let go.
will she come back? will i ever see her again? feel her warmth? hear her laugh? or will i be stuck here, waiting in the rain, forever holding onto a love that's already gone?
i don't know.
but until i do, i guess i'll be here..
SINGING IN THE RAIN ....
lowercase intended . best with black background, as well as the smallest layout and (preferably avenir)
