There are stories written about meeting the right person at the wrong time. In your story, he was the right person who was all wrong for you to claim. He was your best mistake, while you were nothing more but a small chapter in his story. A story wi...
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Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if we had met earlier.
If my life would be different today if I had made different decisions then.
Had it been me who decided to walk away, just when you finally opened your heart to me?
Had I been reading things wrong, and that your parting words had meant something else?
I wonder if the things that you said to me then were never meant as words of goodbye, but a wish for something more.
That we could be something else.
But there is no way that we could ever change the past, is there? And look at us now.
Our past decisions had only left us stranded on each of our own's paths, and we have become nothing else but broken pieces drifting in the ocean of sorrow and pain, where our memories became nothing more but rotten dust haunting us in our dreams.
"Hi."
A moment passes, and just when you are starting to believe that this is just another one of those dreams that have been haunting you during your long and lonely nights, the man standing before you speaks. His voice sounds so deep that you can feel its vibration reaching deep in your chest. You can almost feel his gentle words caressing your skin when he answers,
"It's been a while."
If you had thought that you have had his smile engraved so profoundly in your memories, then you would have been wrong. Because the moment he smiles, it looks nothing like what you remembered. It looks much better. Way better. And it shouldn't be stirring the flutters in your chest or bringing warmth within your body the moment you get to see it again after so many years have passed.
"I think 'a while' sounds like an understatement," you find yourself speaking, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds when every bit of your senses seems to be shaking in his presence. He softly laughs at your comment, and it sounds so rich that you feel your heart swelling and beating faster. And you hate it.
Because your heart isn't supposed to be doing these things. Not after so long.
"You, uh—you look good," he says, coaxing a smile out of you, though you try your hardest to hold it back from showing.
"You don't look too bad yourself, Kim Namjoon," you answer him, drawing his smile to grow a bit deeper. And again, you hate it. Not his smile. It would be impossible to hate his smile. You just hate the way you are unable to look away from it, or the way you find yourself being drawn further when his smile lingers.
"I'll take it as a compliment," Namjoon says with a tenderness that isn't supposed to be present, before his eyes flicker down, shamelessly taking you in. "Are you on your way back from work?"
