He Left Me Breathless

Nightmares And Bruises

Anger had always been a willing companion of mine for as long as I could remember and more often than not, it had become my first choice rather than a last resort. Surging in an erratic and tumultuous manner, it almost sank the traces of my floundering rationality underneath. The sharp and stifling pinch of my throat failed the words that wished to maim and shame. It swayed my judgement and spurred on the fairly reckless decisions.

Under the billowing cloud of fury I was adept at assuming the worst in everyone and heedlessly embellishing their most unfavorable acts. It was the remorseless brand of truth that provoked my callous demeanor and I hadn't a thought to spare for those who had provoked such unforgiving ire. 

I hated it. 

I absolutely loathed being so blindsided by displeasure and disappointment that I failed to differentiate the right from the wrong. It made me feel weak, powerless and inevitably guilty. 

After having taken great pains to bridle this belligerent and snarky temperament I realized, Mr. Oh could easily make visiting the shrink a regular occurrence with his insufferable attitude. Surely, his true talent lay in trying even the patience of a Saint and slyly goading people over the ledge of their dwindling sanity. 

Our absurd dynamic was such that, Mr. Oh played the role of an arrogant pianist and I his wretched piano. He pressed the exact keys to produce the most jarring and bitter melodies. 

In the movies, those deep breaths the damsels in distress took to restrain their emotions or the numbers they counted from backwards praying and appealing for composure, never quite had the same magical effect on me. I was left imploring the heavens for their compassion and kindness in protecting me from 6 feet demons that wore Louis Vuitton Oxfords. 

Escaping from the sweltering atmosphere of the room had been my original intention, however, it drove me to roam around in an unfamiliar hotel teeming with strangers. Confused, I regard my surroundings to better understand where my reckless escapades had led to and spot the outdoor swimming pools that our suite had a clear view of.

Scratch that, Mr. Oh's suite, since clearly I would be banned from entering, following the wildest and dramatic exit of the century. Not that I was remotely apologetic or capable of remorse. Oh Sehun can wade in his ego, wallow in his pride and wither in his own anger for all the fucks I could muster.

The illuminated water laps restlessly and I am disgruntled to notice the unnerving resemblance in our states. My turmoil lingered inwards and hidden from sight whereas its disturbance lies outside. This sobers the remaining petulance instantly and my shoulders sag in quiet resignation. I despised not winning an argument just as much as having one to begin with. 

Slowly, the fight drains from me and I wonder whether in hindsight it was necessary to react that harshly to Rafael's blatant attempt at causing trouble. I should have probably cursed him to a karmic destiny of sucking Bill Cosby's balls eternally and gone about minding my business.

Too meek, my subconscious quips indignantly; ever the portrait of an insolent diva.

If Mr. Oh had the decency to hide the clip like he was meant to, then all of this wouldn't have happened in the first place and I needn't have burst several blood vessels in the process. I assumed we had a silent agreement on how the video would remain buried, provided I kept making A- grades in the weekly assessments but apparently not.