ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ: ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ

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 ┈┈∘┈˃̶HONGJOONG˂̶┈∘┈┈

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┈┈∘┈˃̶HONGJOONG˂̶┈∘┈┈

" 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞."

Two days had passed, and my restlessness only grew. I found myself bothering my father every hour, desperate for any news about Seonghwa's father or Seonghwa himself. Although I had contact with Seonghwa, the lack of substantial updates gnawed at me, leaving me frustrated to the point where I could neither sleep nor eat. My father understood how worried sick I was about Seonghwa, knowing he was alone in such a difficult situation.

The depth of my feelings for Seonghwa had surprised me. I missed him more than I could admit, and the thought of not having him here yet was driving me mad. To distract myself, I either sat painting or writing poetry, while San and Wooyoung made valiant efforts to get me out of the house. But I couldn't bring myself to leave, knowing that I could spend those precious hours speaking with Seonghwa.

As I lay on my bed, I scrolled through his new Instagram. He had created an account to assert his newfound freedom and interact with us in more ways than just through text. His posts were a testament to his resilience and beauty—his long black hair framed a face full of spark and life, making me long to have him here with me. Each photo captured his essence, and each caption gave me a glimpse into his thoughts and feelings, bridging the physical distance that separated us.

I couldn't help but admire his strength and grace. His posts were filled with positivity, despite everything he had endured. One photo, in particular, stood out. It was a simple selfie, taken on the balcony of his safe house, with the sunset casting a warm glow over his features. The caption read, "Finding light in the darkest times. Thank you for your support."

Seeing him like this, so close yet so far away, stirred emotions within me that I had never felt before. The desire to protect him, to be with him, to make him mine—these feelings overwhelmed me. I wanted to be the one by his side, sharing in his journey, supporting him as he had supported me.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a new message from Seonghwa. "Hey, how are you holding up? I miss you."

My heart raced as I typed back, "I miss you too. It's been hard not having you here. Seeing your posts helps, though. You look amazing."

He replied quickly, "Thank you. It's been tough, but knowing you're there for me makes it easier. We'll be together soon, I promise."

As I read his words, a sense of calm washed over me. The wait was unbearable, but knowing that Seonghwa was fighting just as hard to return gave me strength. I looked around my room at the half-finished paintings and scattered poetry books, each a testament to the restless energy that had consumed me. But now, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I would continue to create, to express my feelings through art and words, until the day Seonghwa was finally back by my side.

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