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FEW DAYS LATER
Standing beside the fully packed car, I lingered in the driveway, unwilling to hasten my departure. Each box, meticulously labeled and arranged in the trunk, represented a fragment of the life I was temporarily leaving behind. My gaze drifted over the familiar facade of my home, the walls that had witnessed years of laughter, growth, and the occasional tear. It was a canvas of my past, and stepping away from it, even for the promising horizon of university life, stirred a poignant blend of excitement and melancholy within me.
I tried to comfort myself with a faint smile, a futile attempt to brush off the heavy cloak of nostalgia that seemed to tighten around my shoulders. The weight of this transition was more palpable than I had anticipated. It was not just about relocating to a dormitory or adapting to a new academic challenge; it was about recalibrating my life without the daily presence of Seonghwa, whose companionship had become as familiar as the rhythm of my own heartbeat.
As these thoughts swirled through my mind, I recalled a recent conversation with Wooyoung. He had playfully suggested that I should have been more selfish in my university selection, coaxing Seonghwa to join me. His words, though light-hearted, now echoed with a tinge of truth in the quiet morning air. There was merit in the thought of having Seonghwa close by—someone who understood the unspoken language of my moods, who could dissect a day's worth of experiences with a single glance.
Yet, the decision had been made with clear minds and a mutual respect for our individual aspirations. Seonghwa's ambitions were tied to a different path, one that led to another city, another university that was better suited to nurture his unique talents and dreams. It was a decision forged from understanding and love, not selfishness, yet the heart occasionally balked at the logic that had seemed so sound under less emotional circumstances.
My reverie was broken by the sound of the front door closing. Seonghwa stepped out, his figure emerging from the shadows of the porch into the soft light of dawn. He approached with a slow, almost reluctant gait, mirroring the emotional heft that seemed to hang between us. As he drew near, his smile was gentle, tinged with a sadness that was usually absent from his expressive face.
"Hey," he said, his voice a soft murmur that carried with it all the warmth and familiarity of our shared history.
"Hey," I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the unspoken words of love and fear of separation. I pulled him into a hug, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine, a reminder of the enduring bond we shared.
"I'm going to miss you," I admitted, the words muffled against his shoulder, where I allowed myself a moment of vulnerability.
"I'll miss you too. But we've got this, right? We're stronger than a few miles," Seonghwa reassured me, his hands rubbing comforting circles on my back.
