lockets.

year twenty-twenty
20/12/20

The room was suffocating. Not in the literal sense—there was plenty of air—but in the way tension clung to every surface, thick and sticky, weighing down every breath. Both of them could feel it—the unspoken accusations, the unhealed wounds, all festering in the air like something rotting, something they both refused to acknowledge.

She was across the room, her back facing to him, pretending he didn't exist. It was a well-rehearsed act by now. She moved with precision, every step felt deliberate, every stretch of muscle was calculated, as if forcing herself to stay composed. Her presence had always been electric, but now it was different, sharp, like a live wire sparking just beneath the surface of her skin, threatening to burn everything it touched.

He hated it. Hated how his gaze was still drawn to her, even when the anger gnawed at his chest like a parasite. It wasn't fair—how she got to act like none of it mattered, like he didn't matter. His pulse quickened, the frustration bubbling up inside him, boiling over before he could even control his feelings.

"Do you even care?" The words tore out of him, unplanned, raw. They sounded too loud in the dead silence of the studio, bouncing off the mirrors that had witnessed far too much.

The girl froze, her hands raised in mid-air, stilling as if his words had reached into her chest and yanked something vital out. For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or hurt—but then it was gone, snuffed out as quickly as it appeared. When she turned to face him, her eyes were hard, unreadable.

"Care about what?" Her voice was ice, cutting through the thick air with the precision of a blade.

His chest tightened. He wanted to say it, wanted to throw everything in her face—the misunderstandings, the silence, the way she let him believe the worst—but the words choked him, stuck in his throat like glass. She was always like this—always cold, always distant—and it drove him insane because once, once, she hadn't been. Once, she had looked at him like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And now?

Now, she looked at him like he was nothing.

"Forget it," he muttered, shaking his head, hating himself for not pushing harder, for still caring when she clearly showed she didn't.

But she wasn't done. She stepped toward him, slow and, each movement sending a pulse through the air like a storm was about to hit. "No, go on," she said, her voice was steady but her eyes flashed, challenging him. "What is it, Park? What do you think I don't care about?"

The way she said his name—it was a bullet straight to his heart, a reminder of the way things used to be, before everything had spiraled out of control. Before she had turned into someone he didn't recognise.He clenched his fists so tight his nails bit into his palms, trying to leash the anger before it broke free. But it was already bubbling to the surface, spilling into his voice like poison. "Us," he hissed, the word sharp, jagged, like a shard of glass in his throat. "What happened to us, Lee?"

For a second—just a heartbeat—her eyes softened, like she might let her guard down. But then, just as quickly, her walls slammed back into place, her gaze turning cold, distant. "There's no 'us' Park," she said, her was voice flat, each syllable cutting deeper than the last.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stood there, frozen, feeling the remnants of hope crumble inside him like ashes. He had been bracing for it—expecting it, even—but hearing it aloud was something else entirely. It was final. It was over.