Our Story | HaJeongwoo

Our End | Chapter 14

Chapter 14: I've Been Waiting, My Love

Jeongwoo's eyes fluttered open, the first tendrils of morning sunlight filtering through the blinds.

Before he even sat up, a sweet aroma tickled his nose, a symphony of sizzling bacon and fluffy pancakes.

His stomach rumbled insistently, reminding him of the countless nights he'd gone to bed with only instant ramen for company.

A wave of gratitude washed over him.

Maybe Mashiho had finally gotten tired of his poor eating habits and decided to drop off a surprise breakfast.

Jeongwoo conjured a picture of his friend, hair messy from sleep, thrusting a paper bag at him with a gruff, "Don't die of malnutrition, you idiot."

He chuckled softly, the sound unfamiliar in the quiet apartment.

He stretched, the familiar aches in his muscles a pleasant reminder of his day at the pottery studio.

The warmth of creation and shared stories lingered in his heart, a flickering ember of hope in the vast emptiness that had become his life.

Jeongwoo threw off the covers and headed towards the kitchen, thoughts of Mashiho's breakfast fueling his steps.

As he reached the doorway, he paused.

The small kitchen was bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun, a single person moving swiftly around the counter.

His breath hitched in his throat. It couldn't be.

His mind was playing tricks on him, conjuring up a ghost from the past.

The figure turned, a familiar laugh escaping their lips, and Jeongwoo felt the ground beneath his feet vanish.

There, in his kitchen, looking exactly as he did in his memories - messy hair, sunshine smile, a spatula in one hand and a pan of sizzling bacon in the other.

It was a scene ripped straight out of a dream, a beautiful, impossible dream.

Jeongwoo stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by a mix of disbelief and joy so intense it threatened to burst out of him.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring the image before him. He blinked, willing himself to wake up, to escape this cruel hallucination.

But the man remained, the aroma of breakfast growing stronger, a tangible counterpoint to the surreal world around him.

Jeongwoo could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, drowning out the quiet sizzle of the pan.

The man glanced over his shoulder, a questioning frown replacing his earlier smile.

"Jeongwoo? You're awake. Did I wake you with the noise?"

His voice, deep and familiar, resonated in Jeongwoo's ears, a confirmation of what his eyes were struggling to accept.

Jeongwoo opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

His throat felt tight, constricted with a mixture of emotions he couldn't name. He wanted to run to him, to feel the warmth of his embrace, to hear him say it was all a mistake, that he was really there.

But his legs seemed glued to the floor, his voice stolen by the sheer impossibility of the situation.

The man set the pan down and turned fully towards him, his concern deepening with each passing second.

"Jeongwoo, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

There it was, that familiar playful jab, a jab that always managed to draw a smile out of him. This time, however, it felt like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of what he'd lost.