Our hands lie next to each other's, fingertips almost touching. This is what we've come to. So close, yet we'll never be close enough.
❛❛ If it was so wrong, then why did it have to feel so right? ❜❜
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Park Jiyeon's plans for her last summer...
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구 ┃ ❛❛ Do you trust me? ❜❜
━━━━━━━
I'm not sad. I'm very happy with my life. I'm also just very hollow.
My first instinct is to just shrug it off, knowing it's not uncommon for me to feel like this. A little bit of time to myself, a little bit of music ── and I'll be fine. But when the weight on my chest slowly gets heavier and heavier, I realize this isn't one of those times.
I don't know what to do. I can't focus on the music that flows into my ears through the headphones. I can't look at myself without sneering at the fact that I'm getting so upset over something so small. But this is how I've always been. The smallest of things matter the most to me and I hate myself for asking too much. Of everyone, of everything.
But mostly, I hate myself for asking too much of me.
I look at the shelves filled with trophies and medals in order to remind myself of all the things I had done and could do. But all I see is my reflection staring back at me. And I'd be lying if I said the me on the glass surface didn't look a bit disappointed.
Not thinking straight, I open the drawer on the nightstand. Taking my car keys out, I walk out of my room. Walking swiftly down the stairs, I check the time on my phone.
It reads 04:17.
It's all too quiet outside. Even the sun isn't up yet, but it will be soon, which results in a faint darkness. And though I'm gripping the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles are white, I have no idea where I'll go. Or if I will go anywhere, for that matter.
It's times like this that make me want to forget all complications and drown myself in alcohol.
I loosen my grip on the wheel and lean down to rest my forehead on it. For a very strange second, I think I might break down and cry. But I chuckle at the idea just as quickly. I don't even remember the last time I cried.
Not a minute passes, and someone knocks on the window, making me jump.
And of course, it's Jeongguk.
I pull down the glass window, my eyes fixated up front. I expect him to ask me what I'm doing, but instead, he asks, "Can I join?"
I am very tempted to say that I could do with a little less of his teasing and curious questions, but in the end I nod and unlock the doors. He walks over to the other side and sits down beside me.
Jeongguk doesn't say a single word and I'm grateful for that. Because if he does, I might say something I would never be able to take back. Or worse, I might actually start crying. The thought of it doesn't seem so absurd now.
Minutes pass. I stare into space blankly and so does he. Under other circumstances, I'd have the decency to ask if he was alright. But who are you to ask someone if they are fine when you know you aren't fine yourself?
