cynosure | p.jm

became

“eun ae,” he called out. i turned back habitually upon hearing my name, nearly tripping over myself.

“ah- i'm sorry eun ae. i didn't mean to scare you.” he smiled sheepishly.

“what do you want? why did you follow me out of the museum? and-” i felt a lump in my throat as i analyzed his facial features.

“and how did you know my name?”

he shrugged his shoulders cutely, cocking his head to the side. “i don't know — you tell me.”

i narrowed my eyes at him, but he merely returned it with a teasing grin.

“-ah, i haven't introduce myself. i'm park jimin,”

park... jimin...

why does hearing it make my heart ache?

i stared at him, feeling my soul healing and shattering at the same time. it went on forever, as if that motion was on repeat inside me, spiralling my insides into pits of sadness mixed with nostalgia. why nostalgia?

i tried to grasp onto a reason but the moment i reach for it, it slips through my finger tips as if that reason was never there. and with every time i reach out, i was stabbing myself with feelings of emptiness.

i looked back at him, who was still smiling, a nonchalant reaction compared to the storm building up within me. i don't understand these emotions.

i shook my head, turning away from him.

“i didn't ask for it, but okay.”