TWENTY-THREE

My eyes are focused on the envelope lying on my counter. I haven’t touched it ever since I put it there, and I know very well why. I know what it holds, but I don’t want to see it. Not really.

My heart stopped the moment I pulled it out of my letter box. Unconsciously, I had been expecting the invitation, but dreading its arrival nonetheless. I just know Daesung picked the envelope. It practically screams him, and I don’t need anything or anyone screaming his name, reminding me of his existence.

For the past couple of months, there has been nothing but his name, his face, and his voice flashing through my mind. Every little thing reminds me of him. Every phone call makes my heart drop, every time my door bell rings my stomach turns, all of that in anticipation, and hope, it is him.

But it never is.

And every day, my regret grows as I more and more believe I made the wrong decision.

Exactly two months ago, Youngbae called me, which is a rare occasion. He asked me how I’ve been, and I sarcastically replied I was doing ‘great’. He didn’t allow me to be bitter, nor did he let me wallow in my self-pity. Instead of hearing me out, he made me listen to him. He told me he knew about what had happened, and he warned me to back off. I had been so ready to rebut, yet he silenced me before I ever got the chance to, by saying I’ve been handling everything so terribly wrong. When he asked me what my plans were, I told him. I told him how I kept trying to get in touch, and how Daesung never picked up the phone. I told him how I went to his house, and how no one opened the door. I told him how I was planning on going about next, but he shut those thoughts down immediately.

“You think pestering him every goddamned minute of the day is going to help anything, hyung? You actually believe that?” He even dared to scoff at me. “And you genuinely believe you know him?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, because he was right. I’ve known all along that this isn’t the right way, and that maybe I’m messing everything up even more. But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. I’m desperate. I’m anxious. Not hearing anything from him is terrifying. I rather have him yell at me, than him giving me the cold shower. I rather annoy him and rile him up so he can’t do anything but think of me, than him cutting me out of his life completely. It’s selfish and it’s childish, yet it’s all I have.

“You need to give him time, Choi Seunghyun. He doesn’t need to be pushed, or pulled. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him what to do. He’s a big boy, he can decide on his own. But people need to let him do that first. So you back off and give him space. You’ll see what he’ll do, and you will accept whatever he does. Because you love him, and that’s what loving someone means. It means knowing when to fight, and knowing when to give up.”

Of course I just had to roll my eyes, give him a pompous reply, and hang up the phone. It took me another two days and a whole lot of alcohol for me to admit he might have been right.

But now, after those two months have passed, and seeing this envelope, I’m starting to think that maybe I gave up without putting up a proper fight. It feels as if I now have truly lost him, and subsequently myself as well. I have become nothing more but an empty shell, wading through life, in whatever way people tell me to go. I’m only half aware of what has been going on these past few months, and I’m afraid the rest of my life is only going to be a continuation of that.

I place both my hands on the side of the counter and push my body up while sighing. Slowly, my hand glides across the tablet towards the paper. My phone goes off before I reached it.

Even the smile I normally put up before picking up lacks enthusiasm.

“Yes?” I say, still keeping my eyes firmly on the letter.

No ‘Top-Top-Top, Top-hyung’, this time. All I get is a calm “Hyung.”

“Seungri.” I’m waiting for his other half to join in, because I know it’s coming.

“I’m here, too, Seunghyun.” Jiyong chimes in.

“That’s ‘hyung’ for you,” I correct him, and I can practically hear him roll his eyes and shrug.

“I suppose I don’t have to explain why I’m calling?” He asks instead of giving a bratty comeback, and I don’t mind it one bit. I’m not in the mood for a battle of wits. Not at all.

“You got the letter, right?”

I can hear Seungri whispering something to Jiyong, but it’s just low enough for me not to be able to understand what he’s saying.

“Found it in the mail last Thursday,” I nod.

“Opened it yet?”

The nodding turns into shaking. He can’t see it, but I’m sure he already knew the answer before asking it.

“But you’re going, right?” He is asking me. He really is giving me a choice. I can say I don’t want to, and he won’t protest. He’ll probably say he understands and wish me a good evening while he’s at it.

“Of course,” I answer.

“Of course?” He questions.

“Well, I have to congratulate the happy couple, don’t I?” I do my best to sound like I mean it and that I genuinely intend on going to wish them all the best. But I’ve grown to find it quite hard to feel truly happy for them.

Jiyong, however, ignores the comment, and since I’m not in the mood for the scolding I just know is about to come my way, I end the call. “See you then.”

*******

I look more relaxed than I am. Way more.

I’m laying lazily on the backseat, not even bothering to buckle up properly. My driver has given me multiple foul looks, and told me about three times that I should wear a seat belt, to which I asked him if he had no confidence in his driving skills. He didn’t bother talking to me after that and kept his eyes firmly on the road. He doesn’t really like me, and that’s okay. I don’t really like myself either.

He doesn’t say anything when he pulls the car over; he simply waits for me to get out.

Despite my calm demeanour, my heart is racing in my chest. My hand glides over my hair that is still perfectly in form. I adjust my tie a bit, and I wonder if I should have worn a more imaginative colour. A gentle tug on my vest is the last thing I do before exiting the car.

I have barely closed the door, and he drives off. So much for having cold feet.

No one is there to welcome me, there’s no one frantically taking pictures, not one interviewer bugging me for words. Of course there aren’t; since they wanted to keep it low-key. Only family and friends. I bitterly chuckle. It has Daesung written all over it.

I take my time taking in the surroundings; I don’t exactly feel so motivated to hurry up inside. I’ll have to spend plenty of time there. Most likely I’ll feel claustrophobic soon enough.

Slowly, I turn around. The street is quiet; barely any cars. There’s a small playground close by, too. ‘Perfect for kids,’ I think as I take my first step towards the door. There’s a certain reluctance in my pace, as if my feet are telling me they’re not ready, and the rest of my body isn’t either. Yet I’m urging them to keep going. I’m not going to regret coming here. I need to see him again. I missed him so very much.

I stop at the front door. It feels like forever since I last was here. After only one ring, the door swings open and Youngbae greets me.

“I’m glad you could come,” he smiles. He takes my hand and heartily shakes it. Then he throws a brotherly arm around my shoulder and pulls me inside.

“Daesung did a great job, organising this.”

The shorter male looks at me, his eyes narrowing knowingly. “He did, didn’t he?” Youngbae points up at the ceiling and chuckles. “I do think he’s gone a little overboard with the garlands, though.”

I don’t really get to say something back, as someone calls him and he’s gone before I could even do as much as blink.

Assuming it’s okay to hang my coat and enter by myself, I step in further in the hallway. Just like that I remember I’m not wearing a coat, and I feel more than stupid. Where’s my head at? Why am I suddenly feeling so extremely giddy?

“Let go of me!” I hear Seungri’s voice.

Really? They’re at it again? Sometimes it’s hard to believe they’re not energiser bunnies or something similar. They really have no restraint whatsoever.

“Oh come on, just one kiss. What’s the harm?” Jiyong teasingly sings back. “You know you want it, too.”

“And we both know you can never keep it at just one kiss, you ,” the younger his