Until The End of Time | Wonho [√]

15: JOUSKA

JOUSKA: A HYPOTHETICAL CONVERSATION THAT YOU COMPULSIVELY PLAY OUT IN YOUR HEAD

It was time to have a talk with Hyungwon.

After long long hours, actually sixteen hours— I awoke from repose to realize I had missed university hours, which meant two important course lectures, and my part-time hours too were ticking by. Normal me would've jumped out of the bed, ran around screaming like a neanderthal, and would've panicked like it was the end of the world.

I couldn't feel any of that no matter what. When I yawned and patted my face I could feel it was puffy. Swollen with the hours of sleep, botched up like a plastic surgery gone wrong. Quietly sitting on the bed with my eyes leaden, I could hear the sound of a drizzle outside on the rooftop.

It was raining. And I really wanted to talk to Hyungwon. I needed to before I'd lose my mind.

Changing out into a fresh pair of pajamas I took the white translucent umbrella I'd recently bought (it was going to be my first time using it tonight). The material was still crisp until the rain wetted it. Minutes later I found myself rapping on Hyungwon's door. A side of me wanted him to be absent. The opaque glass of his window was darkened.

It lighted up and a rustling sound of unlocking the door followed. He pulled it a silver aside. A pair of big eyes, in a pair of sunken holes, met me.

He closed it, right to my face.

I was baffled, standing on the balcony. My umbrella still wide open though the rain was only hitting my back slightly when it pelted on the railings, and the water reflected on the rusty metal.

There were noises coming from inside, Hyungwon shuffling around loudly. I didn't know whether to leave or not. Before I could make up my mind he opened the door again, this time swinging it fully to the side and revealing his brooding self. He was wearing a plaid shirt and trousers, his hair disheveled and countenance, ashen. One look said he was a nocturnal creature.

"Um, hi," I commenced. He probably uttered a hi back but I heard nothing and only saw his protruding lips moving.

"Can I come inside?" This was a wrong move, my mind told me but my mouth said otherwise.

If I wanted to talk to him I could've done that somewhere else, actually, I could've done that some other time. Not on a lonely night with the rain pouring down.

He moved aside hence there was no turning back. I went inside a stranger's house and it didn't make me feel anxious or scared, nor even when I fully stepped inside and saw that it was the same single-sized bed, the beaten-up couch that had lost almost all its leather material and only the once-white-now-grey foam was visible, the dilapidated, small coffee table too. Everything else was gone. Those remained from the last tenant, that guy around my age.