raspberries and mocha | heejake

31

Heeseung sat in his dimly lit apartment, staring blankly at the wall. The silence wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, pressing down on his chest and making it hard to breathe. It was the kind of silence that felt deafening, filled with all the things he didn't want to think about. But try as he might, the thoughts kept creeping in, each one sharper than the last.

"How pathetic am I?" he wondered bitterly. Just a few weeks ago, he'd never even considered the idea of love. He'd always scoffed at the notion, convinced that it was nothing but a distraction—a fairy tale for those too naïve to see the world as it truly was.

Yet here he was, consumed by feelings he never thought possible, all for a guy who seemed, in many ways, so abnormal. Jake was everything Heeseung wasn't—bubbly, impulsive, and unabashedly affectionate. Their relationship had bloomed so quickly, each moment with him feeling like stepping into a dream.

It had all been so perfect, so easy. The way Jake would jump into his arms, the way their laughter would echo off the walls, the lazy afternoons spent cuddled together, talking about everything and nothing. It was domestic in a way that made Heeseung's heart swell with warmth, as if they were already living some kind of fairy tale.

But now, that warmth felt like a cruel joke. Their love had been too fast, too fleeting, and now it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The realization stung, but Heeseung couldn't bring himself to dwell on it. He didn't want to wallow in self-pity; it wasn't his style.

Instead, he let out a humorless laugh. It seemed absurd that he, of all people, would fall head over heels for someone so quickly. He had never been one to give in to emotion; he was a man of logic and reason, a self-proclaimed realist. But then Jake had come into his life like a whirlwind, shaking everything up, turning his world upside down.

And now it was all gone.

Heeseung pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he reflected on their time together. Every little moment replayed in his mind—the teasing glances, the lingering touches, the way Jake's laughter could brighten even the darkest days. It felt too good to be true, and apparently, it was.

How could he have let himself believe that this was real? How could he have been so foolish? It was like he had been living in a fantasy world, one where everything felt right, only to wake up and realize it was all a lie.

Heeseung rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the ache building there. "Get a grip, Heeseung," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "You look like absolute shit."

But deep down, he knew it wasn't just foolishness. It was loss. And loss hurt.

He glanced around the room, taking in the remnants of their relationship scattered throughout—Jake's oversized sweatshirt draped over the back of the couch, the small trinkets they had collected together, the faint scent of his raspberry perfume lingering in the air. It felt like everything in his life was tainted by Jake's presence, and it was both a blessing and a curse.

Heeseung stood up, stretching out his limbs as he tried to shake off the melancholy that clung to him. There was no point in drowning in sorrow. He had to move on, to find a way to navigate through this ache.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to smile, albeit a weak one. "You can do this," he told himself, his voice steady. "You'll be fine."

But inside, he knew it would take time. Time to heal. Time to forget. Time to figure out who he was without Jake.

As he made his way to the kitchen, Heeseung caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. There was a flicker of determination in his eyes, a promise to himself that he wouldn't let this define him.

He could be better. He had to be.

With that thought in mind, Heeseung set about cleaning the apartment, each movement deliberate as he tried to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. He would not let this break him; he would rise above it, no matter how long it took.

And maybe one day, he'd look back at this moment and laugh at how ridiculous it all seemed. But for now, he had to focus on the present, on moving forward, one step at a time.