Why We Broke Up || YeonBin

Letter #5

Do you still remember the story I told you that night the first time I slept over at your place as lovers?

We were lying there on your bed. My arms wrapped around your figure with your head lying on my chest as I played with your hair. It was the dead of the night so the room was dark with only the faint glimpse of the moonlight coming from the window to serve as our guide. I remember the comfortable silence that engulfed us that night. No words were needed to be spoken and I was more than content to only listen to the sound of your steady breath.

I think it was fifteen minutes later into the stillness that you slowly turned your head up to look at me with a soft but tired expression. With your heavy lids you looked at me, a hint of wonder in your gaze and back then I knew I was severely damned.

I’ve always been held captive by your gaze, Yeon-ah. Always.

You then nuzzled your face further into my neck as you breathed out. Your voice was low and almost vulnerable when you asked me to tell you a story to help you sleep. I smiled at you then, pressing my lips on your forehead in a gentle peck and pulled you closer before I closed my eyes to start the narration you so badly wanted.

It was about a boy who ran away from his home because he couldn’t handle the things that were happening there anymore.

His family was known to be one of the greatly respectable names but the outside world do not really see what happens behind closed doors but the boy surely did. He witnessed every single thing what others couldn’t and even at such a young age, he learned to have the strong feeling of disgust.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his family. In fact he did—he did, so much that he tried to ignore the deeply erroneous ways of living and chose to keep a blind eye instead of confronting his family about it. Not like he could do much if he did try, anyway.

Years then passed by and he kept on finding out secrets that made him sick to his stomach that he thought he couldn’t handle finding out any them more. He was starting to grow a nasty feeling of revolt that got watered every single day that he was sure he couldn’t cut down any time soon.

But then—

But then they wanted the boy to take part in their sickeningly twisted game and that was the time he decided he couldn’t be part of them in any way.

He wouldn’t. He swore he would never be part of their dark ways and would never turn out like them.

So one night, with the strong surge of loathing fueling his desire to escape, he commenced his plan to runaway he had for years but didn’t have the guts to actually embark until that night.

He didn’t want thing to end up that way. He feared that from actually happening, to be honest. But what he didn’t want more, was to take part into their wrong doings until he lose himself and be like them.

And so, despite not having any place to go to, he fled.

He fled and never looked back.