Jaemin the Icy Prince on Campus - Na Jaemin NCT

2. The Reunion

I am writing this, sitting in a train, speeding across the countryside to you.

Sitting in a place where I have never sat before is making me particularly inspired, and I feel all the thoughts and feelings just bubbling out from inside me, and overflowing from this pen.  

I called you two days ago, and said, "Why don't I come to you instead of waiting for you to come to me? I could take a train on Friday afternoon, and be in Seoul by evening. I could spend my weekend with you, and be back home by Sunday afternoon."

You were worried about me taking the journey alone, but you seemed to warm up to my plan after a while.

"Don't talk to anyone, you hear? Don't look anyone in the eye. Especially old geezers. They're the worst."

"I hear you," I said. "Avoid eye contact with old geezers. And don't talk to strangers. I'll just look distracted, like I've got a lot of weighty issues on my mind."

"No, " he growled. "That's a bad idea. When you look distracted, it makes me want to kiss you. So don't look distracted. Just look blank, like your brain's not at home, and stare into space, or at your phone."

I couldn't really sleep last night. I kept thinking, and imagining you next to me, hugging me, holding me, kissing me...and my heart started to race. I pictured myself lying with you, my head on your shoulder... and before I knew it, I was fighting to stay awake, begging to be able to picture it just a little while longer...

Oh, it was wonderful to wake up this morning with you to look forward to! I dressed myself in a fever of impatience, and buttoned my coat with trembling fingers, and ran all the way to the train station. I couldn't wait to see you. 

The train hurtled through the countryside, and the world passed by; places, people, objects, they all whirled by in a blur.

But not you.

You remained clear and in constant focus, like my own reflection in the glass window as the rest of life whipped by. It felt like you were travelling with me, alongside me, even though you were not here. Isn't that strange?

I remember the feel of the hard seats, the texture of the rough fabric against my skin, its faded colour, the stains on it, the time ticking on resolutely, and I was so happy, so incredibly happy, my heart light as a feather; the me that died when you left had awoken to life again, the me that had been so empty and so cold was filling up again slowly, getting fuller and fuller with each mile, each bend, each jolt of the rumbling train. I looked at my phone, and the time read: 4.22 pm, and I thought to myself, it is 4.22 pm, and I am on a train bound for you. I am here, sitting in my train, and you are there, standing at the train station, or sitting, or pacing impatiently, your eyes flicking to the time on the station clock, or your phone, your eyes running restlessly over the platform where my train will pull in. It is 4.22 pm, and I am so happy, so excited, thinking of you waiting for me, I must remember this moment now, this moment must never be lost; and I shut my eyes tight to make the moment more lasting. 

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a woman and a little girl of perhaps five or six; the woman was holding the little girl's hand, and they looked up as the train passed them, and the little girl waved. The train passed, and the woman and the little girl disappeared out of sight in a flash; already they belonged to the past, they had become a memory. There was something saddening in the thought; things change, nothing ever stays the same. Looking at the time, I saw that another five minutes had gone by, and suddenly, I was happy again, because, very soon, in another half an hour or so, I would be able to see you again.

At the thought, I felt the blood rush to my face, and my heart began to pound. I will be very calm, very poised, I told myself, I will surprise you with how much I have changed in the past four weeks since we said goodbye; I will not be the crying, sobbing mess of the girl you remember, with her red, swollen eyes and her blotchy face. Instead you will see a new person, a sophisticated young woman with an captivating air about her, and an enigmatic smile, like Mona Lisa, and you will be fascinated by the transformation, you will not be able to look away. I looked down at myself. I had put on a bright yellow T-shirt hoping that it would make me look happy and airy, like summer or spring. I wished that I hadn't worn it now. I had suddenly noticed a tiny grey stain on my right sleeve. Why hadn't I noticed it before? Perhaps I should have worn black instead. Black was so much more sophisticated and alluring, and mysterious. I thought of myself, gliding sinuosly acoss the platform in black, and coiling myself  around you, I imagined the look of horror on your face, and burst into a fit of silent giggles.

Later. Written in bed. Your bed.

I must have fallen asleep, for when I woke, the train was pulling into the station. I sat up in a hurry, and glanced at the time on my phone.

5.10 pm. 

I was in Seoul, finally. 

The train ground to a screechy halt. I trooped down with all the rest of the passengers, and my eyes searched for you.

I saw you almost at once.

You were standing, tall and straight, slightly to the left, your black jacket open to reveal your blue jumper inside. You looked pale and serious, your eyes scanning the crowd.

Our eyes met above the sea of bobbing heads, and a sob rose to my throat.

Jaemin, Jaemin, I have missed you, oh so much. 

Have you missed me too?

Your eyes lit up, and your face flushed. You took a step towards me.

And then, I started to run, my feet flitting light as air, as gossamer, over the grimy stone tiles; running, flying to you...

We fell into each other's arms. 

Time ground to a stop, and stilled.

I lay my head on your throbbing chest, and breathed you in.

Jaemin, oh Jaemin my love, my darling, I have missed you so.

You smelt of the warm, autumn sun, soft and gentle, as if it had seeped deep into your skin. I inhaled you in, my heart filled to bursting, that familiar, intoxicating scent, that drives me crazy with longing, that I can't live without...

How many times have I imagined this reunion of ours? How many times have I closed my eyes, and imagined what I would say, my words gushing out from my heart in a torrent of love, releasing it from its weeks and days and hours and minutes of pent up grief?

But when we broke apart, I couldn't think of a thing to say. I just stood there like an idiot, crying quietly, holding on to you. I didn't want to ever stop touching you, holding you. My face crumpled, my composure crumbled, and I held you tightly and I stopped caring that you could feel the shudder of my sobbing body. Happiness and sadness swamped me - happiness that we were together again; sadness that it could not last, that soon, we would have to be apart again. It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head. 

And you didn't speak, either. You just stood there, that telltale vein throbbing madly in your white throat, your Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as you swallowed again and again to keep it in, fighting to stay composed and calm, and just looking into your eyes, looking at the way you looked at me, I knew exactly what you were feeling inside; that you were feeling torn up, exactly the way I was feeling inside - so, so wondefully happy, yet tinged with that thread of underlying sadness, that heaviness weighing like a shadow upon our hearts, knowing that our reunion would be fleeting, and soon, we would have to say goodbye again. Soon, we would have to have our hearts broken all over again...