Philophobia ❧ JEONGCHAN

2

Crying in the club-Camila Cabello

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Jisung had always been the boy on the bench. Even in high school he sat out of certain activities and drew in his sketch pad. Out of the two of them, Jeongin thought that Jisung would forever be the one attached to three wooden planks screwed into metal legs. For some reason, his mind had failed him. Jisung had abandoned that bench. Jeongin was the one alone in a crowd now.

He sat in front of the Quokka exhibit, eyes glued onto the carved initials of his best friend and his husband. They were linked with an image of a cat and squirrel's tail wrapped around each other. It honestly made him sick. He felt horrible for feeling that way. He shouldn't be jealous. Jisung deserved his happy ending. He went through so much and now he was thriving.

But Jeongin couldn't help himself. He hoped that the sweltering heat produced by the sun's torturous waves would sweat out the feeling. If he stayed there on that bench and let the overwhelming star burn his skin enough, maybe he'd peel away his exterior like a snake and shed everything he had started to hate about his life. He knew it wouldn't happen.

Life wasn't that easy. Not for anyone. His eyes drifted to the Converse covering his feet. Why was he even at the Zoo? He'd been there a million times. Deep down he knew why his legs had taken him that way and why his head had given them the direction to do so. It was because his twenty-year-old heart yearned for Chris to pass him by, spot him, and greet him with his sweet intoxicating smile. He was hoping that just like all the stories Jisung had told him, Chris would walk up to the border separating the exhibits, call him over, and ask him out.

He had an utterly obnoxious hope that Chris would come over and tell him that he was ready to open up to someone. That all the dark thoughts he held onto finally had another home, and that it was him. It was stupid. So indescribably stupid because Chris would never say that. Even if he was ready, it would be directed at one of the pretty girls sauntering around the concrete pathways, pointing their perfectly manicured fingers at the wolves. He could imagine a lady dropping her sun hat in the breeze with a gasp, Chris showing up to offer it back as he'd jumped and grabbed it before it could wish away in the wind.

Jeongin smiled as his fingers ran over the indents in the bench. Chris was the type of guy to smile charmingly afterward and show off his bright eyes with a shy, cheeky expression. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to be on the receiving end. He closed his eyes for a quick intake of air. It swirled down the pipes in his neck and crept into his lungs, giving him a single second of peace in his mind. That peace was exhaled right out of his mouth a second later. He brushed his hair back, thankful that enough sweat could be used as a substitute for gel and that his long-ish hair had moved far from his forehead.

What was he doing with his life? Pining over someone that could never love him. He needed to stop it. Cut the yarn before the ball was too unraveled to the point he couldn't keep up with it all. He tugged his phone out of his pocket and pulled up that wedding store near his apartment. Sitting around waiting to be the next Han Jisung wasn't going to do him any good. He had watched first hand what drowning in negative emotions did. He had seen Jisung die over and over again for so long.

He wasn't going to do the same. He knew better. So he pressed the application button on the website and tapped away on his keyboard. He could only finish half of it before he was on the next bus home. He continued it the next morning and by Friday he was being interviewed for a position. Of course, he wasn't giving up on his freelance photography. He would do both, no question. It took an hour and he was sure he nailed his meeting.

He lingered around the store afterward, hands pushing through jackets and shirts. He was in no rush to be anywhere. His fingers rubbed fabric after fabric between his fingers. Cashmere, linen, velvet, cotton, and silk. They had every material you could want. There was not one piece of clothing in that store he hated. Their taste was pure and elegant. It was a princess's dream. Nothing dramatic.