MEDDLE ABOUT.

07

valentines day. a holiday you absolutely adored, after feeding yourself with many k-dramas and romcoms that only added to your delusional self. maybe you would find your kang tae-moo (if you haven't watched business proposal watch it)! the hearts everywhere, the sweet aroma of love wafting in the air as couples walked, hand-in-hand, sweet smiles and promises made to each other, sealed with cute gifts like chocolate and handmade crafts.

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valentines day. a holiday scaramouche detested. he didn't understand why people would ever like the commercialised holiday where companies just wooed you into buying their chocolates and flowers so they could make some easy money.  people held hands and laughed, as if the world was taunting him about how lonely he was, about how he could never truly have a heart again. the hearts everywhere were atrocious. couples hung padlocks on the bridges, engraving their initials in the metal lock foolishly as if the locks would prevent the empty promises made to each other from breaking inevitably in the future. 

a futile belief. 

yet when you asked him to spend the holiday with you, he couldn't refuse. he simply sighed, taking your hand as you droned on and on about the valentines day market.  "scara, why don't you have a valentine? you have the looks to make any girl swoon," you ask curiously. he snorted, expressing some sort of amusement. "my ego is bigger than your airhead naivety. the better question would be why you don't have a valentine," he replies, rolling his eyes in perhaps amusement or simply exasperation. 

"well, considering you're my best friend, my standards have gone up quite a bit!" you say cheerfully, grinning. 

he doesn't know why, but that made him relieved. 

"you're an idiot if I'm the standard," he sighs. "you're hopeless." 

"was that a compliment?" you ask, a cheeky grin on your face. 

he let out a long sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"well, look! its that famous love bridge! we should go hang a lock there. for our friendship!" you point at the bridge in excitement. on the railings of the bridge there were hundreds of locks, all of different shapes and sizes and colours. a myriad of various locks. 

it was truly a magnificent spectacle, which even scaramouche was wowed at for a brief moment. yet the moment you said the word friendship, it hurt. 

why did it feel so good yet hurt so bad? the warmth in your hand spreading throughout his body, giving him a numbing feeling, yet he couldn't tell if it was beneficial or poison. 

perhaps it was a bit of both. 

as you engraved the initials in a lock, he squeezed your hand a bit tighter. 

in his mind, you would be here with him the next year too, on this same love bridge, but as lovers, not friends. then you would throw down that lock into the azure blue water under you and hang a new one. 

he sighed, shaking his head. 

he was delusional.