Invisible Affection | Taejin

46. Beyond the need

A long silence settled between them as Seokjin contemplated Dr. Park's question. The longer he sat in silence, the more difficult it became to express anything without feeling exposed. He knew the answer was within him, somewhere in his chest, but every time he tried to articulate it, the words caught in his throat and transformed into something else. He glanced down at his hands, then at the floor, and finally at the edge of Dr. Park's desk, as if there might be an easier version of the truth hidden somewhere in the room.

Dr. Park didn't rush him. She never did when he was in this state. She allowed the silence to linger between them without trying to fix it, which made him feel both safe and uncomfortable at the same time. There was no pressure from her, but he realized he had nowhere to hide. She had asked the question, and now he had to confront what it had stirred within him.

"No," he finally said. "He didn't give me hope."

He pressed his lips together after saying it because it hurt more than he expected. Something was humiliating about hearing himself admit it, as if saying it out loud proved that he had been the one reaching, the one hoping, the one turning small things into something bigger because he wanted them to be bigger.

"I think I gave it to myself," he said after a moment. "He was kind to me, and I took that kindness and made it into something else. I don't think he meant it that way. I think I wanted it to mean that."

Dr. Park held his gaze, but she didn't speak.

Seokjin let out a slow breath and looked down again. "Being with him, even for that short time, made me realize how much I missed. Not missed him, I mean, yes, I missed him too, but I mean how much I missed out on. How much kept going without me. How much of his life I am not part of anymore." His fingers moved against each other in his lap.

"And I think I knew, even while I was there, that he was not doing anything to make me believe there was a chance. Not really. Nothing clear. Nothing I could point to and say, see, he wants this too. I think I didn't want to listen to that part because if I listened to it, then I had to accept something I was not ready for."

"And what was that?" Dr. Park asked.

Seokjin swallowed, and for a moment, the words felt too simple for how much they hurt. "That it is over," he said. "That it has been over. That I went there after five years, and some part of me still thought maybe time had changed something."

He looked down at his hands, which rested in his lap. Keeping them still took effort; a part of him wanted to move, to stand up, to walk around, to do anything but sit still with his shame. However, he knew that right now, he didn't have that choice. He needed to be as present as possible in the moment, even if it pained him.

"He was different," Seokjin said quietly. "That was the first thing I noticed when I first saw him again, and even recently. He was different in a way I didn't know what to do with."

Dr. Park watched him, patient and still.

"I think I kept this version of him in my head," Seokjin continued. "Not on purpose, maybe, but I did. A version of him that still belonged to what happened between us. A version that was still hurt, still angry, still stuck somewhere near me. I think that sounds terrible when I say it like that, but I don't mean I wanted him miserable. I didn't. I just think it was easier to imagine that he was still in it too, because then I was not the only one."

His jaw tightened as he looked away for a moment, blinking hard before he brought his gaze back down to his lap.

"But he is not," he said. "He has a life. He has people around him. He is steady now. I don't even know if that is the right word, but that is what it felt like. Like he became someone who learned how to live without me, and I don't know why that hurt so much when I know it should be a good thing." His voice cracked at the end, and he shook his head, almost angry at himself.