That was the last time I saw him. 

That night, as our eyes locked amongst the students rambling around, he had pushed the lady away. "Sad" sounds so childish, like something flimsy, something one should be able to cast off with a happy reflection or the smile of a friend. But "sad" is nothing of the sort. It sits inside like the germ seed of depression, just waiting for the right conditions to grow, to send out roots to choke the hope out of your heart. It is the trough in which we struggle to return to the peak, always afraid that this time the rungs will be too slippery, too far apart or simply not there at all. As much as I tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream. The beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. I wiped it off in a single swipe and he was just there, staring, utterly speechless. In a second, he seemed to snap out of his thoughts when I began to ran. 

I never learned to cry with style, silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolling down my cheeks from wide luminous eyes, as on the covers of True Love comics, leaving no smears or streaks. I wished I had; then I could have done it in front of people, instead of in bathrooms, in darkened movie theatres, shrubberies and empty bedrooms, among the party coats on the bed.

I remembered the awful aftermath, an experience that completely changed who I was. It was a terrible feeling, realising just how much it had affected me. 

Reasons, explanations, I was unwilling to hear it all. Instead I had avoided him with my upmost capability. I hated endings yet here I was, in contrary to it all, I slipped a letter into his locker. Demanding an end to our relationship without verbalising yet the words I had written were enough to cut through him. 

Hopefully. 

**

Daily classes weren't necesscary in his schedules anymore. Finals were around the corner, the last examination before he was out. Behind the masked I wear on my face, there is sadness and shock. I anxiously look to my left and right, repeatedly as a single sound passes by, checking for signs of danger that will not come. By danger, I mean, bumping into his friends. I didn't want to be reminded of him, I didn't want to be associated with him. 

My sadness is a hollowness. I can't tell you what's worse. Sometimes my hollowness is a shell, holding in a thousand oceans of tears. Sometimes though, it holds a thousand pieces of glass that are wedged in between my soul and body. That's the pain. Sometimes though, like when I had my first kiss, kissing that charming boy I tasted something like rotten fruit. I had kept my eyes open so all I could see was faint freckles. Or when my cat died and I didn't cry. I just stood there. Or when everybody laughed and I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's the scariest thing. Sometimes I am somebody, somebody in pain and sadness. But sometimes I nobody, and I don't seem to feel. I don't seem to exist at all...

"Hey.." A friend slipped into the space beside me. "You okay?" 

"Oh, Hansung-ah.."

"Yeah, hello." I see his eyebrows furrowing, the student head ambassador shifting slightly. "You're everywhere but certainly not here."

My lips curled into a breif smile before facing him. "I am physically here though. What's up?"

"Well whatever it is that you're going through, you'll get through it. Not as easy as it seems but life goes on, you do know that right?" For a second, he faced away, letting out a sudden cough before he explains his presence. "I'm actually here to remind you of the seniors homecoming? You're part of the committee, we need you there."

.

There is a tenseness to my muscles that makes me more like a mannequin on this soft mattress than a woman of flesh and bone. I want so much to melt onto the soft foam, wrapped in eider-down, and drift into the world of dreams. Yet my brain is a violent whirl of stupidity, trying to organize the chaos in my life. I completely forgot about the event. Sehun would obviously be present. I couldn't seem to make out if he wanted to be there or rather people needed him to be there. The world outside seems to be teasing me with in silence. 

", I totally forgot." I had finally voiced out after what seemed to be a minute silence. "When..is it again?" 

His lips turns into a short frown before he shrugs. "About three months from now. After their results, but our meetings are starting now, if you must know." 

"Oh."

Three months. Three months since we've seen each other, three months of which I have succesfully vanished from his life, and now three months till I face him again? Did I suffer only to have it backfired? 

"Yeah." Hansung interrupted my thoughts. "I'll schedule you in for the meetings and all that , be there ya?"

With a reluctant nod, he left me. Alone, once more, confined in a void of which I could never be comfortable with. 

**

Three dreadful months rolled around. Sooner than I yearned. Meetings had always been weary and it didn't help that I had no one to turn to and complain about. My brain; it seeks to discover a way to control the capriciousness of people, to acquiesce and please them so that our encounters are softer, less draining. However, with being completely terrible with communicating with other people, of course the task is pointless. Life is far too random for a human brain to take the billions of factors that come together to form just one day for one person. Though my conscious brain knows all this by subconscious remains stubborn in its attempts to protect me, to ensure my survival. 

Ironic really, what I really need to survive tomorrow is sleep, at lease six hours would be nice.

Especially having to be aware of the possibility of bumping into him, the first and only guy who owned my heart before throwing it out like it was easier than rolling off a log. 

The day came as I awoke to soft sheets, and the morning light trickled in through the blinds. Shedding myself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, my eyes were still shut as I soaked in the warmth of my covers before letting my eyes see the sun's rays. Slowly and reluctantly, I uncover my face. I blink, close my eyes, and blink again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blind me. I sit up, drag my feet off the bed, and rub my knuckles onto my eyes. I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. I watch my legs dangle above the off-white polyester carpet. 

I didn't want to do this. I hated to be up on a saturday morning, having to be the one to accord such entertainment for students I don't give a damn about. As I slipped into the shower, I stared at my drenched figure, chuckling to myself. How pathetic must it be? Being up this early for an evening event.

Having done so, I dragged my feet back to my bedroom. Chucking out dresses from my wadrobe. Was I to dress up? Was I to put in effort?  Somehow it seemed trivial to do so, but as I slipped the silk material off the metal hanger and putting it on, I realised a part of me still cared. I still cared of what he would think of me. In a sense that I'd bump into him while looking decent rather than bumping into him with an attitude that screams, 'look at what you've lost'. No. I condemn that behaviour, I refuse to be that girl. 

Sighing, I threw the other dresses back into wadrobe messily and shut it close. I positioned myself in front of the bureau mirror and took inventory. Makeup was minimal, reserved to a few coats of mascara, a light contour, sufficient highlight and a dark lip. A burgundy matte lip that I had spontaneously painted my lips with. My dress tugged around my curves lightly, the silk drooping mid thigh, showcasing my honey thighs  that I was never fond of. They touched, thicker than the other girls I knew of. Turning aro