Personal Sunrise

Anything

Jonghyun’s POV

                I jumped in surprise as my mother began to laugh softly.

                “Umma…,” I gasped, shocked at her reaction. “It isn’t funny…”

                She shook her head quickly and wrapped her arm more tightly around my shoulders. “It’s not that… It’s just… Wow, it took you such a long time to figure it out, dear.”

                I sighed. “Don’t remind me.”

                Her expression instantly shifted from one of amusement to one of deep concern. “Jonghyun… I know this must be hard for you…”

                “You have no idea, umma,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it from him…”

                “Then don’t.”

                I glanced over at her, and a small smile brightened her eyes as she looked at me.

                “Just tell him. You’ll feel a lot better.”

                “I can’t do that, umma. He doesn’t feel the same way, and it’ll just make things awkward between us. I’d rather keep my feelings inside forever than never speak to him again.”

                “How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?”

                I stared at my hands, my fingers laced together on the tabletop. “We don’t really…get along like we used to. We argue all the time…and…he keeps secrets from me. He won’t let me help him…”

                My umma smiled sadly and took one of my hands in hers. “Did you ever think that he might be doing all of that so you won’t get dragged into his problems? Maybe he doesn’t want to worry you. You are his best friend, after all.”

                I opened my mouth to reply, but quickly shut it again when I realized that I had nothing to say. I had never thought of it that way. Was he really doing all of that…to protect me?

                “B-but…” I stumbled over my words as a new tide of emotions flooded through my system. “He can’t worry about protecting me! He’s the one who needs to be protected! He can’t deal with everything on his own! His father…”

                My mother squeezed my hand gently. “Then go to him,” she said softly. “Do something about it, instead of just saying that you will. Let him know that you can’t stand to see him hurting anymore.”

                “I’ve told him…,” I whispered.

                “Actions speak louder than words, you know.” She shut her laptop and stood up quickly, giving me a small hug as I stared at the tile. “You think about that for a while, dear. You never know, he might care for you more than you think.” With that, she tucked her laptop under her arm and headed upstairs.

                I ran my hands through my hair in exasperation. Actions speak louder than words? Think about that for a while? What kind of messed up fortune cookie advice was that?

                “Thanks a lot, Confucius,” I muttered to the empty room. I pushed my chair back roughly and trudged up the stairs, my mind swarming with conflicting thoughts like a horde of angry bees. I sprawled out on my bed and stared blankly at the ceiling.