EIGHTEEN | minsung.

chapter 7

summer, 2017

when jisung steps on the balcony's floor, he thought he'd set himself up a fickle trap. and when he sees the boy's face, he had the urgency to turn around and go back. maybe he should have.

he supposed this was how he'd die, out of embarrassment. it's a little better than dying of other ways, of heartaches and of crushed spirits. he could take this.

nevermind. he's giving up, indeed.

jisung was already at the balcony's passageway by the time, and going back after just arriving would make him look stupid than he already was or raise some suspicions. and so he thought, thought of something less dumb.

he stopped walking, searching for his pockets, and pretended to make the most natural face a person would after finding out they forgot something important.

"oh no," he muttered the phrase in the most dry and sarcastic tone than he'd intended. he cleared his throat. should he try it again?

bad idea, he thought.

he looks stupid, but it's a little better than making a stuttering mess out of himself by approaching him with an intention of fixing their conflict, the conflict he might have created in his head all along.

if the conflict's all in his head, then does that make it nonexistent? maybe there was nothing that should have been done at all.

he makes his exit, ready to disappear after making sure he's made a convincing act of not being a laughingstock; which, perhaps, the earlier act might have opposed the statement even further rather than saving it.

"hey, stop," a voice calls and jisung has no idea if it's meant for him or not and it's making him anxious to turn his back.

jisung stops, staying in place. and he could hear slow footsteps nearing him. he tilted his head as his body follows the same, and he sees a pair of eyes looking at him. he's never saw them close before. he thought he'd be surprised to see who it was, but something inside of him had expected it. hoped for it. that if jisung couldn't bring himself to settle their nonexistent conflict, the stranger will.

jisung quirks his brows when he heard the silence creeping in again. "what?" he swallowed.

"you left this," the brunet handed him a golden pendant.

jisung stared at the shiny object staring back and a scene flashes at the back of his mind. he examined it, checks the back to make sure. and there it is, the italicized letter it follows.

jisung shots his gaze back to the fellow. "where.. did you found this?" he pursed his lips, eager to ask for questions.

"somewhere.. i don't remember." it took a while for him to answer as if finding for the right words. "you look like you were finding for something."

"what do you know about this?" jisung could hardly breathe.

"i don't," he says bluntly.

i don't believe you.

"right," jisung finishes off, not convinced. he's lost this for years, he was certain. how could he have found it? no one knew about it, he never told anyone. "it is not mine," he lied. it was.

"okay."

not a word.

"sorry to bother you," he said. "i'll go ahead."

"okay."