You’re not sorry

There were times where Myungsoo thought that he had chanced upon her. He kept on seeing her (like she was everywhere around him with intention), perhaps she wanted to meet him or bump into him. Maybe the person he saw wasn’t even her at all. But, what if it really was her? Whatever her motive was, he didn't want to find out. He could sense some sort of evilness hidden beneath the whole thing.

Many days had gone past and he had been swimming in a pool of poignancy. Every minute, he would just keep on wondering about Hyeri. This question remained in his mind: Why didn’t she inform him about her coming? He inquired how long she had been in New York and how long she was planning to hide from him. He was obviously -hurt, no doubt and mostly despondent. As if she didn't trust him enough—or at all even—or she didn't even think that he was worthy to be informed. 

Why…? He wanted to be enlightened.

He had been sulking non-stop and became more conservative than usual. Nobody could speak to him without getting shunned off or being ignored, not even his buddy Minhyuk. Nobody could understand what the hell was wrong with him. And nobody could salvage his forlorn self.

Except her.

During the depressing period of time, he had found solace in his camera and photography. They were the ones who stayed with him. It had been three years—he got his DSLR in the same year when they started to date. Everything he saw through the peek-hole was of ennui and oppression. Life was negative just as it was. Picturesque moments were wrapped with sorrow and anguish. Every crevice of him spelt out melancholia.

What is happiness without her? What is happiness when she’s so close yet so far? What defines a couple without communication? What defines a couple without trust? What defines a happy couple? 

He played with the effects on his camera, fidgeting with the brightness and curves. Photos could evoke other feelings with different lightings, he realized. He was intrigued by how we humans have such idiosyncratic ideas to capture pictures from different points of views. He wanted to evoke feelings from his photographs taken different effects and angles. Therefore, he held his camera gingerly, paced around town and started to create something that held sentimental value to him. A collage of memories.

Strangers walked past by him, faces blurred and feet shuffling. Movements were swift and fast, no time was waiting for them. They had to continue with life and move on. Myungsoo captured their moving feet with a black and white effect. He carried on ambling, taking photographs of vintage shops and the antiques. He took pictures of human beings and their everyday expressions—happy, sad, angry, anxious, calm etc. He capture those moments that came to him; and those that he wanted to capture. Before they slipped out from his grasp like sand in his palms, he knew he had to photograph them.  

He saw a figure with long wavy hair wearing a white lacy dress. Red lipstick and a beanie. Same girl, same heart, her. He could recognize her from faraway. She still didn’t changed much. Her dressing was still the same. She was here, and physically here but with a male.

With Minhyuk.

He wanted to run and punch the heck out of Minhyuk but all he could do was choke on his own words as they came rising up his throat. Some unknown force stopped him from galvanizing him into action. With heavy inhales of oxygen, he brought his camera up and focused on their lingering silhouettes. With a click, a photograph showed up on his screen and a memory of regret was generated.

The, he witnessed them walk down the streets again, their footsteps sempiternal. They slipped out from his grasp like sand in his palms before he could even call out for them. At least the memory was ingrained and imprinted deeply in him.

✹✹✹  

The evening sun casted a shadow on Myungsoo’s troubled figure—gloomy but light. Puffs of freezing air escaped from his chapped lips and mingled in the darkness. Where had they gone to? He wondered in his disturbed mind with a heavy chest. He couldn’t believe that Minhyuk would do this to him. How the hell did they even meet? Why didn’t Minhyuk tell him about Hyeri? Weren’t they buddies? Yet again, Myungsoo felt a sense of betrayal and distrust.

Trust, so precious and fragile; like shattered fragments of feeble glass. He wouldn’t stop pondering over questions that were left unanswered in his head. He needed to know, he was so curious and anxious to know the truth behind this.

He deserved to know what was happening, right?

Thus, he retrieved his phone from his back pocket and dialed Minhyuk’s number. He didn’t know how to approach him about Hyeri… maybe he would just start to blabber or maybe just listen to the awkward silence. He continued to