A PLAN FOR LOVE ✓

thirty three : yeonjun

“Thank you, have a nice day!” I call out to our last customer, sliding the window shut with a long sigh while Jim clatters around behind me, closing up shop.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket with an incoming call. I can’t deny the tiny swell in my chest as I look down at the screen, a small part of me hoping to see Beomgyu’s name staring back at me after almost a week of silence, even though I know it’s on me to reach out and apologize.

I just… don’t know what to say. When I left Soobin’s hotel room, I thought I could just go right up to him and tell him how I feel. How sorry I am. But… I knew he was with Taehyun, and it felt wrong to interrupt, like I didn’t deserve to. Especially after what I said.

I skipped bio and English class this whole week because I couldn’t face him. Couldn’t stand watching him and Taehyun flirt while he ignored me completely. Even though I deserve it.

There’s no denying the fact Seoul feels empty now. No Beomgyu to hang out with. No plan to focus on. Just plugging away in classes I don’t really like.

Aside from work, I just sit around the apartment or wander around the library, texting my ever-elusive mom, reading books, trying to find a way to say how sorry I am.

I let out a long sigh as I look down at the phone screen. Of course it’s not him. It’s an unknown number.

I have no doubt that it’s a call concerning my nonexistent car’s extended warranty, and I almost let it go straight to voicemail, but my finger accidentally hits the accept button.

Shit.

I hold the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Choi Yeonjun?” an unfamiliar voice asks, its tone serious.

Oh no.

“Uh, yeah. This is Yeonjun.”

“Yeonjun, this is Officer McHugh from down at the county jail.”

My eyes widen and I reach out, grabbing on to the soda fridge for support. The county jail.

“We have your mother, in custody here. She was in an accident around five thirty this morning. Ran a…” His voice trails off as he rustles through some paperwork. “Park Jinyoung’s car right into a telephone pole. Took her until an hour ago to sober up enough to give us a phone number.”

The call I always dreaded getting is finally here.

Why the fuck did he let her drive?

“Is she okay?” I ask as my insides turn to ice. Jim swings his head over to look at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Miraculously, there isn’t a scratch on her. No one else was involved in the crash, but she was heavily intoxicated at the time of the accident and clocked in… well above the legal limit.”

Just what I was hoping not to hear.

“She’s looking at a DUI with a license suspension.” He clears his throat. All those years of hiding her keys, of driving her around, of policing everything she did, for nothing. Having our neighbor check in on her. Practically forcing her to text me once a day. Selling her car. And now this? “Are you able to…?”

My ears are ringing too loudly to fully make out what he’s saying. I meet Jim’s gaze, and I think he can tell because he takes the phone and puts it on speaker. Words jump out at me as he talks to the police officer on my behalf.

“Pick up.”

“Help.”

“Drive?”

I nod, and he relays the information to the police officer.