He wished, even if it was for just one day, that you could be his. He didn’t think it was too much to ask if you, for just one day, could lay your head on his shoulder, perhaps softly asleep, hair splayed out beneath your cheek. He prayed that for just one day, a short 24 hours, he could hold your hand, kiss you, to his heart’s content. But what he wished for the most was the ability to go back in time, to go back to when you were his, when you did all those things just as he hoped you would. Maybe if he could go back, he would knock some sense into himself and treasure the times he shared with you the way he should have. Maybe he could’ve made you stay.

It was all too late now.

To you, your story was not one of a tragic breakup, where both parties lose all joy and pleasures in life because they missed each other too much. They don’t eat, and can’t sleep without feeling the emphasized absence of their lover in the spot where they used to lay. Nope, it was not like that at all. In fact, when you guys broke up, he carried out his box of stuff from the two drawers you preserved for him with a bright smile, telling you he would call you later. And he did, for Hoseok was a man of his word.

To him, it was a story of regret.

It has been a year. 52 weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes is a long time for remorse to set in. He didn’t expect it; he didn’t expect to miss you. You guys did not even slip out of contact, in fact, that would defeat the whole point of your breakup.

“I don’t think this is going to work out. All your expectations, your goals, they all make sense and are perfectly fine. I just can’t meet up to those standards. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried taking you out on planned out dates where we would drive to a fancy restaurant, and have steak, and wash it down with champagne. I tried to arrange surprises for you, but those materialistic things just made our relationship lose its meaning.” He ran his hands across his face, his hair. When Hoseok finally looked up to meet your gaze, you saw in his eyes the stress you made him suffer through, and how his lids now appeared slightly puffy due to the tossing, turning, and practicing he did the previous night to make this confession.

“Let’s break up,” you said. “I think we should remain friends, just like how close we were before this whole mess started.”

“Okay.”

That was all it took for you guys to return to square one. Time felt as if it was repeating itself as the two of you chose one of your places to crash out in, to hold movie marathons in, to laugh until your stomachs ached in every Saturday night. You experienced déjà vu as you aided him in pranking his friends once again, and as he held tightly to your hand while running as fast as your legs could carry you when you guys got caught. Life continued the way it had before you guys decided to commit yourselves to a relationship that neither of you, but especially Hoseok, were ready nor mature enough to handle.

You didn’t blame him for the break up, not even a little bit, because it wasn’t his fault. In a strange sense, you even sort of saw it coming. You were perfectly aware that Hoseok was a little rough around the edges. You had known it for the past twenty years of your life that he occupied. It was a blessing, as well as a curse, that came with growing up with him since the date of your birth. You were familiar with his slight irresponsibility, his impatience, and his rash decision making skills. And you accepted it wholeheartedly; even when you knew from the moment he confessed his love to you that it was going to destroy your romantic relationship. You didn’t quite mind though, as you were a girl who just lived in the moment, firmly believing that what was destined to be yours will wind up in your arms eventually, and what didn’t simply didn’t belong to you in the first place.

That was one of the things about you that made him fall in love with you in the past, and was making him fall in love with you once again. And he hated that feeling. The feeling of his emotions spinning wildly out of control, the feeling of his heart dragging him by the ankles back to you, with him clinging and clawing on the other end. He absolutely despised it.

What pained him more was your oblivion.

He couldn’t quite place his finger on when exactly it started happening, when the friendly skinship and handholding couldn’t satisfy him anymore. Some time in the year since you guys got rid of your couple label, he began wishing the simple pushing and shoving of best friends, the clothes, bed, and secret sharing would develop into something more. But to you, he had long since embedded himself in your life as an irreplaceable figure that had gone past the possibility of a lover. You no longer felt anything more towards him, and he was aware of that. His respect for you was the only thing that kept him from getting down to his knees just like before, and telling you how much you meant to him, how much he loved you.

Love.

It was an odd, four letter word that Hoseok didn’t understand before, and he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it now. All he knew was the knot in his stomach when you appeared in his line of sight. All he knew was the feeling of sweaty palms and racing hearts. All he knew was that he came the closest to fully comprehending that word when he was with you.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Hoseok paused for a moment to stare blankly at his half filled suitcase, clothes, toiletries lying as messily in the small, confined space as his thoughts in his head. Was he really going to do it? He caught himself right before his hesitation could talk him out of it. This was he was afraid of the most. He was terrified that he would back out of his plans like a discouraged child, only to end up regretting it later. He didn’t need more things to regret, you were enough.

The crisp autumn air stung his nostrils as he stepped out his small, yet cozy, apartment. He stood in the doorframe, a dark silhouette against the rising sun, as he eyed the place in which the two of you created countless memories, inside jokes, and failed recipes. Agony pulled at his heartstrings, pulled at him to come back in, to sit down on his soft, worn couch and think about what he was doing. But he didn’t succumb to the pain, he wouldn’t be Jung Hoseok if he did. Closing the door shut behind him, he took one last glance at the silent, sleeping street, and he could see himself chasing you down the empty road, your laughter harmonizing together with his. He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head violently to clear his thoughts. This was exactly why he had to leave. This place held too many memories.

Throwing his luggage on the backseat of his car, he planted himself behind the steering wheel and slid the key into its slot, igniting the engine. The drive to his destination was miserable, it was lonely, and all he could think about was your reaction when you found out he was gone. But he didn’t pause, because he knew that he needed to stop thinking about you and consider himself for once, despite how selfish. It’s only way, he thought,the pain would stop.

Hoseok parked his car in the empty spot where he promised his buyer the vehicle would be. He stepped out, suitcase in hand, and he gave the car a good pat. It was an old companion, he had received it from his dad as an eighteenth birthday present, and he could still remember the lingering scent of new paint on its ancient body, he could still feel the thrill of driving it for the first time, with you in the passenger seat placing a polaroid of his side profile in the glove compartment, the landscape rushing past your ears in a blur of color. He was thinking of you again, involuntarily, because you were everywhere, and in everything he remembers.

The airport was already a bustling commotion at this time of the day, and he walked in, picking a spot by the looming glass wall to sit down. He watched, unmoving, as a small plane took off, the roaring audible even through the glass. His phone buzzed in his jeans’ pocket, and he slipped it out. It displayed 6:45, along with your name and your grinning face as the contact profile picture.

“Hello?”

“Hoseok, where are you? I knocked on your door but no one answered. And the lights were off.” your familiar voice streamed through the earpiece.

“Go home.” his voice was cold, and he hated it.

“What? No, where are you so early in the morning? We were going to go jogging today, did you forget?” No, he did not forget. He couldn’t forget, for it was a routine you guys had built up throughout the years, one he grew so comfortable with it suddenly felt strange to be sitting here in a leather jacket and jeans instead of his usual hoodie and sweats.

“I’m at the airport.”

Your end of the line grew silent for a few seconds, and when your voice came through again it was softer, more insecure. “What are you doing there?”

“I’m leaving.”

“For where?”

“Korea. Seoul. I’m going back home.” He no longer thought of it as home though, not since he moved to Los Angeles with you.

“But you’re from Gwangju, what are you doing in Seoul?”

“I found a job.”

“Oh.”

He could feel you registering the information, even though you were silent. He knew you well enough to picture the confused, and a bit worried, look on your face.

“When are you coming back?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.

Silence. He didn’t give you one, he couldn’t bear to give you one.

After a few minutes of pondering how to reply, he simply said, “I’m not.”

Your blood froze. “What? Wait, no, you can’t just leave like that. Talk to me, Hoseok, what’s wrong? Tell me, I’m your best friend.” Tears had begun streaming down your cheeks.

What’s wrong? Tell me, I’m your best friend. That was exactly what was wrong. You were his best friend, and will never be anything more than that.

You persisted when he didn’t answer, “When does your flight leave? You better stay right where you are, Jung Hoseok, or I will never forgive you.”

I don’t need you to forgive me, I can barely forgive myself for letting you go.

“8:15” was all he said before he hung up the phone.

You panicked when the beeping of the dead line rung in your ear. Rushing to your house, which was conveniently on the same street as his, you grabbed your car keys and ran out. Practically jumping in, you started the ignition with an almost angry force, and your car sputtered to life. The way to the airport was just as agonizing for you as it was for him, although for completely different reasons. You tried to suppress your tears with no avail, and your vision of the traffic was soon a blurry mess of headlights and stop signs. I can’t lose him, you thought, I can’t.

The moment you halted your car, you sped out, not even bothering to lock it. There were certainly more important things on your mind than to prevent your car from being stolen. You ran across the road to the airport without pausing to observe the traffic, thus causing a string of angry honks and curses to be thrown at you. But you didn’t care. Pushing past the door, you melted into a stream of people, and it dragged you all sorts of directions, making the ceiling spin above your head.

You finally broke free from the traveling crowd, and scanned the waiting areas frantically for a strand of chocolate brown hair. You couldn’t find him.

“Jung Hoseok!” you shouted into the crowd. Several people turned their heads your way to give you a dirty look for making such a big commotion, but you couldn’t care less.

“Jung Hoseok!” you screamed again, this time louder, more desperate.

He watched your frenzied figure turning left and right in the center of the waiting areas. He heard his name echo off the walls of the airport, but just sat and watched you disappear and reappear in the busy stream of people. He wanted to reply so badly. He wanted to abandon his luggage and sprint to you, hugging you close to his chest, while your soft hair, whispering “shhhh, it’s okay, I’m here” into your ear. Yet he couldn’t, because he knew it was better for both of you in the long run. Or so he thought. He wasn’t aware of the sleepless nights you would later have to endure, his name a repeating sound on your lips in the darkness of your bedroom. He wasn’t aware of the large, deep void he would dig in your soul, as if he had taken your heart with him, leaving the spot where it was supposed to be empty, numb.

He didn’t know, and maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have stood up at the sound of the broadcaster’s voice telling him it was now time for him to start boarding. But he did stand, and he blended in with the other passengers going on the same flight, leaving you behind where you were a moment ago, lost, frantic, and despaired.

You called his cell phone one more time, and little did you know that your previous conversation was the last time you would hear his voice in a long, long time. You were met with a fast paced beeping noise, alerting you that his phone was now off. You couldn’t reach him. You heard the announcer’s message one more time, saying it’s now time for the 8:15 flight’s passengers to start boarding, and you bent down, hugged your knees to your chest and cried.

He was really gone.