Toward the Walk of Shame

12 {Sehun}

It's Valentine's Day.

Usually a day I avoided like a plague. Not only because of the sickening couples making doe eyes at each other all day, but because single girls would be on the prowl. Not always a bad thing, unless you hooked up with one of them on Valentine's Day. Then they'd think it was fate of some thing like that and get even clingier. Trust me.

But this year is different. This year I had a girlfriend - god, that still sounded weird to say - or whatever Suzy and I were. We weren't exactly dating, but we were way past regular friends. She was fun to hang out with. And one hell of a kisser. I wasn't lying about that. That girl had the ability to get me hot within seconds. And I took extreme pleasure in making her kiss me in public whenever I could.

Not to mention, Mark talked less shit about me when Suzy was around, and Eomma seemed happier because of it. Either way, I thought I'd surprise with some flowers when I picked her up for school. Sort of as a thank-you for making my life bearable the past couple of weeks. Suzy was probably more of a pick-roses type of girl than red roses. Pink seemed sweeter.

When I grabbed my keys from the front table, I accidentally knocked over Eomma's planner. Little business cards and sticky notes spilled everywhere, littering the floor. Eomma was a hoarder when it came to business cards.

"Aish." I started stacking everything together when a letter caught my eye. A card with familiar handwriting on the front. Appa's handwriting. To Eomma.

What the heck?

I stared at the envelope, but the jagged handwriting didn't change. My drawer was filled with loads of letters from him when we was in jail, or what Eomma called his "work retreats." I knew exactly where he was but pretended not to. As long as the letters kept coming. Then Eomma married Mark, and everything stopped completely. I never heard from him again. So why is he writing to Eomma? And why didn't she tell me?

Even if was somehow mistaken about the handwriting, his name was right there. Junmyeon Oh, 458 Youngbae Ave., Jeju Island, S. Korea.

Why did she say she thought he was "somewhere in Daejeon"? His address is right there. She knew exactly where he lived, and she never told me. Never mentioned a visit, despite the fact that she knew I missed him.

My mind raced with unanswered questions, but Eomma wasn't home to answer them. Mark had taken her away for some fancy spa day. I didn't know if I wanted to know the answers, anyway. I just - I just needed to get out of here. To get away, I shoved the card back in her planner and stumbled to my feet.

My head was still in a daze, and my stomach clenched as though I'd been punched in the gut. Repeatedly. But somehow I made it out the door and into my car. But I didn't drive. Not yet. I turned on my radio as loud as I could, not caring what song was on. I didn't even know what station it was. My breath came out in a steady stream, and all I could do was concentrate on breathing until the noise filled my head and I couldn't think anymore.

My ears were still ringing when I finally pulled up to Suzy's house. She was already sitting on the front steps, waiting. Her hand tapped against her thigh while she muttered something under her breath. Probably cursing at me. A frown crossed her face when she spotted me. As ridiculous as it sounds, I was happy to see that frown. To me, that was the most beautiful sight in the world. At least I knew I couldn't obsess about my dad while she was lecturing me.

"You're late," she said as soon as she opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Suzy heaved a heavy sigh before dropping her bag at her feet and clicking her seatbelt, all while still not looking at me. "And now so am I."

"Sorry."

That's all I said, but her head snapped up to look at me as though I had poured out all my problems in that one word. Her eyes searched my face for answers. Shit. Her and her intuition. I gave her a wide smile, but she still didn't look convinced.