𝓥𝓲𝓿𝓪 𝓵𝓪 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓪- 【Ａ Ｍｉｎａｙｅｏｎ ｆａｎｆｉｃ】

Chapter 5: "Love"

Throughout my life, I had many ideas about love.

First, that soul mates did not exist and neither did destiny. Love, according to me, is not created spontaneously, but something that grows with time and care. True love, therefore, did not exist for me either and there was not a single person in this world specifically made to be with me (at least I thought so).

Second, I had to create love, simple as that.

The fact that I thought like that, however, did not mean that I did not feel love for certain people in my life.

 There is my mom, who, throughout life, taught me lessons that are worth gold, and she was the one I could trust with my biggest secrets. There is my father, who, although we fought at least twice a day, helped me at any time and went out of his way to support me. There is my younger sister, Chaeyoung who had teased me for most of my life, but now she was strangely kind and became, so to speak, a life partner and confidant.

There was Jihyo and Jeongyeon (and later also Tzuyu, Dahyun, Momo and... Well, not Sana) who made my life a world of adventures, stories, hugs and unconditional love. They were my non-biological sisters, those who loved me without receiving anything in return and just for being me. They gave me advice, they comforted me.

You were. That person I wanted to discover, hug, keep in a pocket and take care of the world, which can sometimes be terrifying. With all my friends I bothered, I made jokes. But with you... it was different, I just wanted to take care of you and discover you, decipher that confusing puzzle, excited to see the final result.

And I was afraid. I was afraid that you only interested me, because you represented a challenge for me.

Because I lived it.

Jennie, my ex-girlfriend. 

At first, loving her was amazing. Something new and fresh, something I had never thought of. Loving her was like exploring a cave with dazzling and exotic flowers...but still, exploring the same cave became a bit boring after the petals turned into stones and started to dry up and wither.

She treated me so well, she was so romantic... but soon my days with her were filled with small comments and complaints about her behavior, and I always ended up being the bad one, the hysterical one, the jealous one. I could tolerate that, I loved her... didn't I? But not even love could make it so that the day I saw Jennie having dinner with another woman, holding her hand like she used to do with mine, and whispering in her ear with the same smile she gave me, I ended up yelling at her, furious, maybe, not only her, but myself.

The day we broke up, I felt a happiness that I hadn't felt in years. Freedom that I could finally taste. And I had forgotten what it felt like.

I had loved... no, loved is not the right word. More than, something like a fire. Yes, a fire. A toxic mix of animosity and lust.

But in every rupture, a partner arrives who does not detach himself, the realization of being alone, impotence, rage.

I spent nights crying in my bed, without eating, without going out. Those nights, I discovered a new love... liquor.

I spent endless nights staring into the bottom of a glass of wine that would soon become bottles that would later be warm brown Scotch whiskey bottles. Something stronger each time. To drive away the memories, she said.

In the end, I drank for everything, even for reasons I could never find the words for.