It's late.
I rub my temples and stare at the sheet of paper.
"Fall in love," this kid, really is; too pure.
I heavily sigh, letting my arm limp to my side.
'So he's dead?' Still, lingers in my mind.
It's unbelievable.
He's curled up in my bed right now; saying it was too cold on the couch; which was really a fault on my part.
I wrapped my arms around him to save him, I gave him chocolates on Valentines.
It's hard to believe all those things were done to a phantom.
'All those "thumps," the flushed faces? Were done to a ghost?'
I still can't wrap my head around it.
Why does my heart ache when I talk to him?
What on Earth did I plan to do to him while he was asleep yesterday?
A bitter taste stains the inside of my mouth.
I lean my head against the soft couch, staring at the piece of paper.
A part of me wishes I didn't find it.
It's a selfish part; that's for sure.
But if I didn't find it; or feigned ignorance, maybe,
maybe he could stay forever.
×
I pour the mixture into a bowl along with milk and microwave it.
A sleepy Eun-Hyuk opens my bedroom door.
Messy hair, oversized shirt and boxer-briefs.
If I hadn't had a heart attack; I was having one now.
I cover my mouth, as my face heats up.
"Is there a problem?" He yawns, walking towards me.
"Ah, no." I blurt out.
His gaze travels the room, before becoming fixed on the microwave.
"Breakfast?" He assumes.
I nod, "Porridge."
He scrunches his nose slightly and gives me a vague look of disgust.
"Hey, none of that," I argue, flicking his forehead.
He pouts and rubs the area I hit.
"It's healthy. Cheap, too. I can't afford bacon and eggs every morning," I say, slicking my hands through my hair.
He lets out a brief chuckle, "We better be having something better for dinner, then."
He walks over to the dining table and slumps down in a chair.
"So, what're we doing first?" He says, his gaze affixed to the table.
I hum, questionably.
"The list?" He pursues.
'Ah.'
I had been trying to avoid this topic. But it looks like he hasn't noticed that.
"We'll visit your sister," I speak, right before the microwave gives off three satisfactory beeps.
I remove the bowl from it and stir the porridge with a spoon before placing it before Eun-Hyuk.
"My sister?" He asks before digging in.
YOU ARE READING
ghost
Romance× Choi Hwan-Jae is your regular twenty-four-year-old guy, he's making a living off being a barista; which is... well, it's work. In this day and age, you need work to survive. After a shift, Hwan-Jae decides to go out drinking with a few co-workers...
