SpartAce: Eternal Love

Aesthetic

Jong Kook just wants to curl up in a cave and die.

His head feels like hell after a day of drinking.

And his chest feels like someone has just wrenched his heart out and left it open.

He has been lying in bed, not getting up ever since he woke up.

The room is already dark, sunlight isn't streaming through the gaps of the unopened curtains.

He hears footsteps outside the bedroom, letting him know that Ji Hyo has arrived from work.

He curls to his side, facing the opposite direction from the door.

He is ashamed of himself. He could not look Ji Hyo in the eyes after all he had said and all he had done.

So he closes his eyes as soon as he hears the bedroom door open.

He feels sorry for her, but for now he just wants to be alone.

He wants to be far away, somewhere secluded, somewhere no one knows him.

He doesn't want her to see him this weak.

And seeing Ji Hyo just reminds him of how incapable he is.

He feels the side of the bed in front of him sinks a few inches down as Ji Hyo sits at its edge.

He feels something touch his face, light as a feather.

He realizes it is Ji Hyo's fingers, sweeping strands of his hair off his eyes. The gesture just makes his chest tighten even more and his heart feels like sinking down his gut.

Then he feels something softer presses against his lips, and his heart races.

Her breath against his smells sad and sweet and loving, making it even more painful for him.

A second later, she leans away and gets off the bed.

Just as when he hears the door slam close does a tear roll out of his closed eyes and down the bridge of his nose and into his other cheek.

It is supposed to be him who should be protecting her, not the other way round.

So he has to be tough and show her he's okay.

A few minutes later, he rolls to his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, the door opens again, and it is too late for him to pretend that he's still sleeping.

"Oppa." Ji Hyo calls, gently. She is peering her head in the doorway of their bedroom. "Have you eaten dinner already?"

"I'm not hungry." he answers, rolling to his side again so that his back is facing her.

"But I cooked dinner." Ji Hyo tells him.

"I'll eat later." he answers without looking at her.

There is a tensed silence before Ji Hyo answers in a disappointed tone. "Okay."

He wishes Ji Hyo would stop looking at him like he is a piece of breakable china.

He stays in bed until Ji Hyo joins him there, silently, with their backs turned to each other as if she gets it that he doesn't want her to bother him right now.

He feels bad for her.

But he appreciates the space she's giving him.

A few minutes later, he looks at her direction over his shoulders, wondering why he isn't hearing her phone touchsounds or paper flipping like he usually does at night.

He lays flat on his back, staring at the still back of his wife.

He sits up to peek over her wife's face, confirming that she is already sound asleep, her phone still on her motionless hand.

He carefully takes it and sets it on the bedside table, glancing at the clock in the process.

It is still half-past seven in the evening.

It is earlier than the time she usually sleeps.

He lays back down, lying on his side facing Ji Hyo's back and pulling the covers up to their shoulders.

Too many thoughts are running in his mind, preventing him from falling asleep.

He hates himself for hurting Ji Hyo. He has not been a good husband lately.

He has not been a good director, too.

The only dreams he had for himself are slowly slipping off from his hand, and the more he tries to keep it in his palm, the more it seems to break, leaving him with the painful fear that he might make too much damage if he does any more move.

Desperate for anything to get his thoughts off his problems, he moves closer to his wife.

He coils his arms around her waist, molding himself into her form, planting a kiss on her shoulder before burrying his face into her hair.

He holds her tight, gaining energy from her. He needs her so bad, like he'll suffocate soon enough if he couldn't have her close.

He could not remember a time when her warmth had not eased him.

Her familiar scent brings him at ease, and he presses his face against her hair, filling his nose with the scent of her floral shampoo.

With her warmth comforting him and her scent relaxing him, he gradually, temporarily, forgets about his worries and later falls asleep.