DEAR DIARY, BYUL IS DELUSIONAL

lovesick

riki lays sprawled on his bed, his room dark, a pale glow from the campus lights filtering through the curtains of his dorm. the night was still, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves outside his window as the breeze carried away the last ones. he had been laying there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, his thoughts spinning in circles, refusing to let him rest.

he sighs softly and places a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes for a few lingering moments. she was probably still with suno. it pissed him off, and a lot.
his mind can't help but drift back to the night of the show, to her laying in his bed. the memory was seared into his mind.

he could clearly see her there in his mind's eye— bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, her hair midnight-black hair fanned out across his pillow like a cascade of ink. her skin had looked almost translucent under the pale light, her beauty ethereal, almost as if she belonged to the night itself.
a sight so beautiful it almost hurt.

riki's cheeks flush red in embarrassment when he recalls his earlier outburst, how his anger had flared up, sharp and hot, how he had lashed out without really knowing why.
nothing made sense. his emotions were a tangled mess and he did not like feeling out of control. he had tried to convince himself that it was just frustration, that her presence had simply rattled him like it always has.

but now that he was alone and the anger had subsided, it had left behind something else— something heavier, like a stone settling in the pit of his stomach. it was an uncomfortable sadness, one that gnawed at his chest, making it harder to breathe.

he didn't want to feel this way, to admit to the possibility that what he was feeling was more than simple irritation. but as he laid there, he couldn't shake the feeling that moonbyul in a way, belonged in his life— so perfectly out of place in his chaos, she just fit there.

thoughts crept in, uninvited and unwelcome, but they clung to him, refusing to let go.
part of him misses when things were simple, when he didn't know her, when his life was in black and white.
because now, park moonbyul was painting colors in his heart that could not be erased.

riki squishes his pillow between his arms, burying his face into it. he could never use that pillow again, so he had kept it aside. it was precious, the fabric held her scent so he couldn't, not until he could wrap his arms around her again and every night.

it was a simple act, one he didn't fully understand, but it brought a lump to his throat. one thing's for sure— park moonbyul was disturbing his peace way too much.
maybe, just maybe there was something more to this than what he had been willing to admit.

the thought made him uneasy, because it meant acknowledging feelings that he did not want to have— feelings that he had always kept buried under layers of indifference.

his gaze falls out the window as he tries to make sense of it all. everything seemed to be shifting with moonbyul in the picture, blurring the lines he had drawn for himself.

the realization was as uncomfortable as it was undeniable, pressing on his chest and knocking the air out of his lungs.
he didn't want this. he didn't want to feel vulnerable or uncertain. but as much as he tried to deny it, the truth was there, staring him in the face.
moonbyul made him feel things that nobody else had before.

and it scared him more than anything else.