𝐒𝐮𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞- a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant or that has been loved then lost. "The love that remains."
a love between a hopeless girl and a hopeless boy.
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I woke up feeling nauseous, the remnants of last night swirling in my mind like a storm.
The glade was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of the boys' laughter muted as I lay there, staring at the ceiling.
It felt like I was still trapped in that moment when we followed him—the man with the ghostly presence. My stomach twisted at the memory, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
He had blonde hair that glinted like silver under the moonlight, almost ethereal.
His skin was so pale it was as if he had never seen the sun, and he was skinny—too skinny, like a wisp of smoke that could vanish at any moment.
He wore black, a stark contrast against his ghostly complexion, blending into the shadows as he slipped through the walls. I could still picture him, that haunting figure, and the way he seemed to glide rather than walk.
It sent shivers down my spine.
Every detail of his face was etched in my mind: the hollow cheeks, the wide eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets, and that expression—oh,
That expression. He looked harmless, almost fragile, yet there was an intensity about him that made my heart race.
It was as if he was caught between two worlds, terrified yet determined. When he turned to run, I swear I saw fear in his eyes, a desperate need to escape whatever was chasing him.
It felt like he was being forced, controlled by some unseen force, and that thought gnawed at me.
As I lay there, I kept replaying the scene over and over, my thoughts spiraling into madness.
What did he want? Why did he disappear? The more I thought about him, the more I felt like I was losing my grip on reality.
It was like I was trapped in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from.
I could almost hear his breath, ragged and panicked, echoing in my ears. The glade felt suffocating, and I needed to get out.
I stumbled out of bed, my legs shaky, and the nausea intensified. Minho was already up, pacing like a caged animal.
He looked at me, concern etched on his face, but it only added to my agitation.
I wanted to scream at him to leave me alone, to stop looking at me like I was some fragile thing. But then I remembered how he had been last night, standing there, watching as the man slipped away.
