naked || seoyoungho

.october 23, '17.

"Go away, Johnny." I bang my forehead against my apartment door, squeezing my eyes shut.

I'm sure my eyes are red and puffy, my face covered in splotches. My chin won't stop quivering, and all I want is to curl up beneath an old blanket and listen to sad songs. Or trot. I haven't decided yet.

"Okay, I will. Just — lemme say one thing, Sola. I'm right across the hall. So if you ever need arms to hold you or a shoulder to cry on or a proxy to yell at, all you have to do is knock. Or call. Either way, I'll be right there. Okay?"

I nod once. "Thanks."

I want to turn around, to collapse on the couch in tears. But my hand reaches for the doorknob and I'm thinking about Johnny's broad shoulders. Before I can second guess, I wrench the door open — to find Johnny Seo standing there with his hands in his pockets, like he's prepared to stay like that for days.

My eyes widen. "You didn't leave."

"I couldn't leave you, Sola."

And then I do collapse into tears, face pressed against his chest. A part of me focuses on my aching innards, while the other half of me listens to his beating heart.

❋ ❋ ❋ ❋ ❋ ❋

Johnny nudges me awake. Through my dry eyes, I expect to see his smile like always. Instead, there's a crease between his eyebrows and a pout on his lips.

I groan, rubbing at my eyes. "What is it?"

"I want to call Jaehyun, ask him why the hell he would break up with you."

I had only seen Johnny angry three times, each time for the sake of someone else.

"I know for a fact that you're the best thing that's ever happened to him."

Sighing, I wrap my arms about my legs and rest my chin on my knees. "You don't have to bother calling him. I know why."

His eyes are big, lips parted.

"He said—" I suck in a breath and break eye contact. The floor doesn't look so heartbreaking. "He said he didn't see a future for us. And what's the point of dragging out something that'll end anyway?"

He closes his mouth. I expect him to ramble on for the next half hour about how amazing I am. But he doesn't say a word. Rather, he squishes next to me on the couch, forcing me practically to sit on him. He places his hand on my head and encourages me to lean against his chest.

I do, and I start to cry all over again. But this time, the sting isn't so bad.