H O O D I E S // yoonmin au

#2- l o r n

lorn

(adj.) lost, ruined or undone 

PJM

Nights.

They were beautiful, in their own twisted yet divine way. The nostalgia and euphoria seemed to hit you all at once, creating an illusion you can't quite decipher despite inestimable attempts, but has one craving for more while gazing at the stars dotting the moonlit sky like mere insubstantial specks of light.

Nights and love weren't all that different. They look tempting and change who you are as a person, but in my case, it was for the worse. The person I was during two in the morning or the one who was deeply in love isn't someone I recognize, they're broken and the fragments are too fine for me to be able to piece them back to perfection.

People said nights were like the light at the end of the tunnel, but it was ironic how they were the darkest. The darkest nights were followed by the brightest days, they said. I refused to interpret it in the absurd way they did.

Because I believed the brightest of days, the ones blinding your sight, the ones with the warmth of the world confiding in your heart, morphed painfully into the darkest of nights embodied with erratic breathing and longing for someone long gone.

His calloused hands, as they ran across the length of my bare back, created intricate patterns that I could only yearn for to feel again. I tried to recreate them, yet it was never even close to perfect. Close to how he recklessly created the most beautiful feeling that I wished to destroy— the memories of him.

I rolled over and aimlessly moved my hand around to look for my phone resting on the bedside table. I flinched as my slender fingers couldn't feel the familiar cold metal case and instead landed on a glass frame. The one with a picture of him. Of us.

It was eerily quiet and my hoarse voice repeated his name like a broken record, over and over again, as if he would return hearing my desperate pleas or give me an explanation of why he suddenly left.

Left me feeling worthless of love—the emotion I didn't know I was capable of feeling or receiving growing up.

The two people in a relationship differed in a way so subtle that no one realized until after they drift apart, I reckoned. One gave their entire heart away and the other saved a little for himself, selfishly.

I was the former, and God did I wish I wasn't. I was left hollow as if there were a void in my chest, so awfully empty, with an incessant dull ache that intensified at the mere mention of his name or the sound of his captivating laugh. What I once thought was the most pleasing sound is now a blaringly loud reminder of our failed future together.

With shaky and hesitant fingers, I reached over for the frame, gazing at his wide smile that I had gotten used to waking up to in the morning and assured me that things would be okay; that I would be okay.

Except I wasn't. Not anymore. I doubted I would be anytime soon.

I heaved my exhausted body from the bed, sitting in an upright position. I threw my head back and let out an exasperated groan at having let my thoughts affect me so greatly and consume my happiness. He didn't kill my happiness as he left, my thoughts did. I woke up with a pounding headache every morning because of the lack of sleep. With my thoughts running so wild since three months now, it was hard to remain sane and continue with my part-time job and school as per usual while also managing my YouTube channel.