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13

13

[Jeong Yunho]
> 9th Feb 2023

      Another morning, another struggle to get out of bed. But today I didn't struggle at all, I was forced out of bed by one phone call. It was my mother, the raging alcoholic. I remember seeing the time on my alarm clock, it was 8:50 in the morning. The moment I pressed my phone against my ear, I heard her scream. She wanted money. She always did. She always called me when she ran out of money for booze. I transferred enough to her account, enough for her to leave me alone for a few weeks. I even had to make sure she didn't pester my brother, since he's an university student. Jongho was my half brother, but we never let that aspect love us each other any less. Never did.

      My past is a mess. I'm fucked up in many ways, Saeyan. Would you like me for who I am? For the past I've lived through. For the imperfections you could discern in me, would you love me for my flaws, Saeyan? I keep wondering about you, making up stories in my mind about us; just the two of us, living together, in some apartment having an ocean view. I may be crazy to picture it all, to imagine my life living with you in a cosy apartment. I rushed out of bed, no point in staying-in since my mind had been weighed down by the early phone call. I made my way to the bathroom, and stared at my reflection in the mirror—the curl of my lips was genuine, I wasn't even trying to smile. It was you, Saeyan. The thought of you, the notions of us living together, brought me sheer peace.

      For the rest of the day, I found myself smiling, unconsciously. It would waver on my lips for a counter second before I'd catch myself thinking about you. I thought about you when I wrote, you were starting to be a muse for my character. I thought about you when I made lunch, when I ate it, when I made myself a cup of coffee. I was sitting on my desk, sipping coffee, and drafting the manuscript, when I realised how different this coffee tastes. The one I brewed myself. I had grown accustomed to the taste of your coffee, it was bitter yet sweet in a way. In some way, I can't get any words to describe it.

      Sun was climbing down the steep slopes of clouds, disappearing behind the horizon. It painted the sky in its enticing hues; a blend of orange and red, gradually merging with the dense purple of the night. I really wanted to see you, talk to you, maybe. So I got out of my apartment and headed straight to your cafe. You were standing by the preparation counter, with another man accompanying you. At first, I felt a sting of envy strike my heart, weighing it down till I could get a clarity of perspective regarding him.

      You two seemed close, I assumed from your body language. At the same time, you were distant enough for me ever conclude you'd be more than friends. He was your coworker, his name tag pinned by his chest over the grunge red apron he wore. 'Wooyoung'. He seemed like a good person regardless. I gave you my order and told I didn't plan on sitting-in today. I didn't want to, not when there was another man in your presence. I might sound toxic, and stupid even, but I couldn't bear the thought of you being anyone else's other than me. I would drink this coffee at my apartment, drafting my manuscript and perfecting it. Just as the other day, we two had a small conversation—I initiated it this time, noticing you had shied away from my touch when I purposely brushed my fingers against your palm while paying for my coffee. I found it odd. You shying away from my touch; was it because of the guy you were accompanied with?

       In a minutes time, Wooyoung emerged from behind you, with my go-to cup of coffee, and I took it. I walked out of the cafe, stared up at the dark sky for a hot second, recalling your words from before. You asked me why I didn't want a cupcake today. I gave you a vague answer and hoped you'd believe me. I don't like sweets, I only longed for those cupcakes because they were made by you. Today, I wanted to regress my sweet tooth; there's nothing to celebrate about in my life. The moon was hiding behind a dark sheet of cloud, it provoked my anxiety—an illusory feeling became heavy on my mind. You didn't believe my smiles were genuine, did you?