Taekook and the ECLIPSE

39 | Tears Welled Up and Spilled Over

A new sob broke from my chest. I was hurting everyone today. Was there anything I touched that didn't get spoiled?

I didn't know why it was hitting me so hard now. It wasn't like I hadn't known this was coming all along. But Minghyu had never reacted so strongly — lost his bold overconfidence and shown the intensity of his pain. The sound of his agony still cut at me, somewhere deep in my chest. Right beside it was the
other pain. Pain for feeling pain over Minghyu. Pain for hurting Taehyung, too. For not being able to watch Minghyu go with composure, knowing that it was the right thing, the only way.
I was selfish, I was hurtful. I tortured the ones I loved.

I was like Cathy, like Wuthering Heights, only my options were so much better than hers, neither one evil, neither one weak. And here I sat, crying about it, not doing anything productive to make it right. Just like Cathy.

I couldn't allow what hurt me to influence my decisions anymore. It was too little, much too late, but I had to do what was right now. Maybe it was already done for me. Maybe Taehyung would not be able to bring him back. And then I would accept that and get on with my life. Taehyung would never see me shed another tear for Minghyu Kim.

There would be no more tears. I wiped the last of them away with cold fingers now.

But if Taehyung did return with Minghyu, that was it. I had to tell him to go away and never come back. Why was that so hard? So very much more difficult than saying goodbye to my other friends, to Angela, to Mike? Why did that hurt? It wasn't right. That shouldn't be able to hurt me. I had what I wanted. I couldn't have them both, because Minghyu could not be just my friend. It was time to give up wishing for that. How ridiculously greedy could any one person be?

I had to get over this irrational feeling that Minghyu belonged in my life. He couldn't belong with me, could not be my Minghyu, when I belonged to someone else.

I walked slowly back to the little clearing, my feet dragging. When I broke into the open space, blinking
against the sharp light, I threw one quick glance toward Yeonjun — he hadn't moved from his bed of pine
needles — and then looked away, avoiding his eyes.

I could feel that my hair was wild, twisted into clumps like Medusa's snakes. I yanked through it with my
fingers, and then gave up quickly. Who cared what I looked like, anyway? I grabbed the canteen hanging beside the tent door and shook it. It sloshed wetly, so I unscrewed the lid and took a swig to rinse my mouth with the ice water.

There was food somewhere nearby, but I didn't feel hungry enough to look for it. I started pacing across the bright little space, feeling Yeonjun's eyes on me the whole time. Because I wouldn't look at him, in my head he became the boy again, rather than the gigantic wolf. So much like a younger Minghyu.