THE STREET'S TOO DARK

It was dark, darker than usual. The street lights weren’t flickering like they did every other time I’ve walked home.

Why did I stay after school this late again?

I put my head down and start to walk faster, fumbling with my phone to turn the flashlight on.

A buzzing noise began and I looked up to see one street lamp flickering.

My eyes wandered, searching the empty street for something I thought I needed to see, even if I didn’t know what that certain thing was. Despite the urgent messages from my brain screaming at me to simply run home, my feet wouldn’t move. They seemed glued to the cement.

The buzzing stopped, as did the flickering. The other lamps lining the left side of the road as well, illuminating the path with a modest amount of light.

I exhaled, releasing the breath I was holding, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. “Why was I so scared?” I teased myself, letting out a weak laugh.

My feet began to move reluctantly.

But I couldn’t even see my feet. When did all of this fog get here?

When I looked up, I couldn’t see the stars or the moon.

I couldn’t see twenty feet in front of me. Why are the street lights purple?         

An unsettling gust of wind flew through the air, pushing some of the fog away—enough to expose the man standing in front of me, under the nearest street lamp.

His black, tousled hair danced in the breeze. The tip of his tongue swept over his thick, black lip ring. His hands were held tightly by his sides and his eyes glowed with an intensity I’ve grown to be too familiar with.

Except, it was different this time. I could see arms moving, I could hear a slight murmur, I could hear his exhausted exhale. He was here.

Before I was conscious of my actions, I could feel my feet gravitating towards him, stepping closer and closer to the figure. His left arm lifted slowly while his fist unfolded to reveal his long, slender fingers.

The man’s gaze was like fire, causing my flesh to burn in an uncomfortable, yet harmless sensation.

“Cha Haseon,” he whispered. His voice was soft and rich and surrounded me like the fog.

My fingertips reached the smooth texture of his black shirt as his fingers tangled in my hair. He pulled me into an embrace, tucking my head under his chin.  

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, even our breathing.

I felt like I wasn’t myself. He made me feel like I wasn’t myself. He had control over me and he knew it.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, causing me to shiver. “You’re right,” he spoke softly. “You’ve always liked being right.” He swallowed. “Cha . . . Haseon.”

The street lights illuminated a dim yellow color. What happened to the purple lights?

The night was clear once more. What happened to the fog?

The night air stopped moving. What happened to the wind?

And I was standing alone, in the middle of the street, under a streetlamp. Where did he go?