we don't talk together

17 - Closure

Y/n POV

The saddest people I've ever met in life are the ones who don't care deeply about anything at all. Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand, and without them, any happiness is only temporary, because there's nothing to make it last. But he wasn't like any of them. He was always been passionate, especially on the music that made him want to survive and live longer. His first and true love will always be music and I always admired him for that. I just wish that he would have a little passion for fixing this together with me.

It was a good start. The ups and downs, themselves. Before I knew it, we grew tired with meaningless emotional drains. We're getting sick and tired of each other. Were the petty arguments the start? Maybe it was my greed trying to match myself with him. If it was love, and if this is what love means, is there really a need to keep repeating ourselves and keep pretending? We're tired of each other, yet seem to be holding the same cards and showing up thinking that things will get better without putting our hands together to actually fix it.

People can be so crafty. In the midst of a series of vague responsibilities, we became so sick of each other that we finally became parallel. Although this wasn't the kind of parallel that I wanted.

At first, we showed off who was heavier, we bragged and smiled at each other and now we're trying to measure who's heavier. A competition between us that became a flame, igniting quarrels, it will only end if someone gets off right here. Acting like we're comforting each other with words mixed with thorns. We can't keep doing this, so I need to make a decision. I have to put an end to this, and so I did.

Anyway, he's still trying to reach me, but not that much. I always ignore his phone calls, but I read all the text messages he had sent to me. I ignore that too. It's been a week since I left, I thought to myself that I won't go anywhere and that move on will become even harder if I keep seeing him and reading the words from him. It was that one day when I am about to put his number on the block, he sent me the text.

"I love you, not just for now, but for always, and I dream of the day that I will take you in my arms again. In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, one I'll carry with me forever and that no one can ever replace."

I read it in silence. He sent another one.

"I am conscious that knowing me has caused you pain, and grief, and I hope that one day when you are less angry with me and less upset you will see not just that I could only have done the thing that I did, but also that this will help you live a really good life, a better life, than if you hadn't met me."             

After a long consideration, I decided to reply to him, before I cut ties completely and shut this down forever.

"Even though you may not want to hear it, I want you to know that you'll always be a part of me. In our time together, you claimed a special place in my heart, one I'll carry with me forever and that no one can ever replace. You're a hero and a gentleman, you're kind and honest, but more than that, you're the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it. But you should know that we weren't meant to be. Not in that kind of relationship. We hurt each other. We just keep denying it and pretends everything's okay. But here I am, taking this step for the sake of us. I hope you understand, Yoongi. I am sorry."

I let him know a hurt had been amended in a way that he couldn't have known, and for that alone, there would always be a piece of me indebted to him.

I missed placing my face so close to his that his features became indistinct, and I began to lose myself in them. I missed stroking his hair, his skin, his brow, with my fingertips, tears sliding unchecked down my cheeks, my nose against his, and all the time he watched me silently, studying me intently as if he were storing each molecule of me away. I missed kissing him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against him. I missed him. Yes, I really 'missed' him.

It was just another night without his embrace and I'm already getting used to it.

Before I knew, the sun was already held up high beaming its lights peeping to my curtains. 8 AM on Saturday and I suddenly feel the need to just lay there on my bed forever. It was until I hear my phone's buzzed.

It was Namjoon. He texted me, asking that he needs to talk about something to me. I know where this is heading, but I said yes since he was always been so kind to me.

I was already on my way to the small old cafe in the downtown and I notice right away a tall figured honeyed skin man walking in the same direction as mine. I follow him, and he notices me once we get inside. There are only 2 other people inside the cafe but we sit down on the second floor of the cafe, which no one even exists there.

As we sit down, Namjoon asks the basic question like how I have been and stuff like that. His choice of words is all so carefully chosen as if he's scared to break me. I know that he's contemplating and fighting himself to not spitting the question about me and Yoongi. Instead, he said, "Tell me what's good, y/n."

I stared out of the window at the bright-blue Seoul sky and I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn't have met, and who didn't like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. And I told him of the adventures they had, the places they had gone, and the things they had seen that they had never expected to. I tell him how they conjured electric skies and iridescent seas and evenings full of laughter and silly jokes. How the girl drew a world for the man, or vice versa, a world far from Daegu or Seoul industrial estate, a world in which they were still somehow the person they had wanted to be. And I just finally said, how the man drew the world he had created for her, full of wonder and possibility.

I don't feel the need to tell who that two people are, because Namjoon gets it right away.

"The thing is, I find the answers. We were so happy, God, we were. But bright lights came with the darkest shadow. We became greedy, no, I became greedy. It starts creeping and eating both of us. It's not healthy. I had to do it, Joon. I had to end it." I paused, staring at the empty cup of coffee, trying to hold back a huge lump on my throat. "It's just...the thing that I should do. For both of us. We were mentally hurting each other, Joon. To the point, it affects his and my physical figure. And I...I decide that I am the one that I should love more, I want to love myself even more." I look up and smile with my already teary eyes. "You have to understand and try to make him understand too. And at least for now, I won't be any burden to him anymore. He could just be free as he used to be, without having to stress out about how he had to treat me and else." I let out a giggle, but it sounds so fake because Namjoon still not flinching.

"He loves you, and he still does." He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to continue. "I saw the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you. I know he loves you so much. You have no idea how broken he is right now, y/n." I let out a long sigh, I can't be here any longer listening to all of this. This is too much for me.

"I am sorry, Joon. I have to go." He stares up at me and says, "Please take care of yourself and always remember to be happy." I look at him with my weak smile. "I surely am."

I bid him farewell, and that day I did not just decide to bid him farewell, but also everything that I have in this city, this country. It was too much for me. Wherever I go, I will see his face. Wherever I go, I will hear his voice. I can't even look at a cup of Americano the same way anymore without imagining his lips sipping it. I can't even see at another man's hand vein without thinking that he got better veiny hands than any man ever lives on this Earth.

And so I leave.

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A/n: I actually added the translation of the lyrics from Seesaw above, did anyone realize that? Seesaw actually inspired me to write these few last parts.