He opened the door, stretching with a yawn in his sweats as he was about to go get the mail. He froze in his spot, though, when he saw her sitting on the sidewalk next to her bag with dark circles under her eyes and regret painted all over her tired eyes. He wondered how she could be sorry when he was the one wanting to apologize.

"Get in," he said, holding the door open wide as she grabbed her bag and walked past him with an empty stare. He could sense it, but he didn't comment: she was angry.

He didn't even close the door before her hand made contact with his cheek. He didn't reach up and rub it, like he would normally do. He deserved it, but he wasn't going to admit it.

"Never tell me to leave again," she whispered in a deadly voice full of emotion.

He ignored her, walking past her and going into their bedroom as if the whole exchange hadn't happened. He wasn't ready to give in yet, to apologize for something that would happen again anyways. He was unprepared when she came up behind and swung him around to face her. He didn't fight back as she pushed him up against the wall and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. When she moved to his lips, he flipped her around so she was against the wall and he now had the control.

He pushed against her, not willing to let her get away from him this time. Tongues intertwined and moans called each other out. Her hands roamed his body like she'd never touched a man before, like she'd never had this kind of contact. He pushed away from the wall and moved to the bed, where limbs tangled and suddenly everything was back to normal.

"I love you," he said, spreading kisses down her neck.

"I love you too," she breathed out.

"Promise not to get in a fight again?"

"Promise."

She didn't think about the importance of the promise. Their whole relationship was based on empty promises, on hidden truths, but mostly lies. If anyone asked her though, she wouldn't hesitate to say she loved him, or their relationship....

.

.

.

One week later

4:00 in the morning, she stumbles through their excuse of a house with the smell of liquor falling off of her. Everything she touched seemed to break despite how hard she tried not to screw up. She finally reaches their room and looks down at the bed, where he lays in a deep sleep. She falls onto the bed with a smile, glad she hadn't woken him up yet.

Hours later, he woke to find her in bed, her arm around his waist like it always should be. He couldn't help but feel happy waking up next to her, feeling the weight of her body against his. He leaned down, about to give a small kiss on the cheek, until he saw it.

Happiness was replaced with unfiltered anger as he reached for her hand, where some 's number lay in sharpie, ruining her perfect skin just like she ruined his life every time it happened. He didn't have to wait for her to wake up this time. She could feel the tension in the room reaching a high degree, as if he alone was causing the sudden increase in temperature.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice low and deadly. He already knew the answer; he always knew the answer, but he couldn't help but hope it wasn't what he thought. For once, he wanted this to be a mistake, an accident.

She paled instantly as she looked at her hand. Even with a hangover she could tell how upset he was. "It's nobody," she said, gulping down her fear of him.

He looked away. He couldn't think when all he could see was how scared of him she was. He wondered if maybe he should just leave; leave until things cooled off, but then he caught sight of her hand again and all rationality was out the window. "Then why is 'nobody's number written on your hand?" He tried hard not to shout, he really did, but his anger had a mind of its own.

She stood up with a huff, grabbing the sheets and wrapping it around her body. "You're overreacting. You know I would never cheat on you."

That set him off. "I've caught you 5 different times, so don't tell me you would never cheat! Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He gripped her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She struggled to get out of his grip, but eventually settled on spitting in his face.

"You're an !" She shouted, slapping him across the face and then shoving her knee into his groin area.

He emitted a low moan as he fell to the floor in pain. Through partly closed eyes, he could see her grabbing clothes and throwing them into a bag. She couldn't see clearly because the tears were running down her cheeks and making stains on the carpet. She tried not to think about the familiarity of the situation.

He managed to get up and walk over to her, tearing the clothes from her hands and throwing them behind him. His hand formed into a fist as his anger grew. No way was she going to leave him. If anybody were going to leave, it would be him. He closed his eyes as his fist connected with her face, her beautiful that caused the whole fight to begin with. He pretended not to notice the way his heart clenched as she screamed out in pain.

Opening his eyes, he could see her lying on the ground with her hands over her face and even more tears staining the carpet. His hands ached to pick her up, to make everything better, but he was sick. Sick of her, sick of cheaters. Sick of love.

"Get out," he said firmly.

.

.

.

"You can't keep doing this to each other," her sister called Jessica said as she wiped away the traces of their fight with a warm cloth and sympathetic smile. "You're hurting each other."

"He deserves everything I do to him," she spat, the anger still there and livid. She was angry at him, for being predictable, for doing what he always does when she comes home drunk. She was angry at her sister, for being there instead of making her get help, for telling her things she already knew but chose to ignore. Mostly, she was angry at herself, for hurting him again when they'd both promised not to continue this pattern.

As she laid on her sister's couch, she wondered what he did when she was gone. She tried to think what she would do if he left. She scoffed. She'd never let him leave to begin with. If she was stuck in this, so would he.

Still, she couldn't help but remember those days when he'd be perfect. The days where she never thought about cheating because he was enough for her and he'd always be enough. He was her prince, and they'd stick together no matter what they put each other through.

.

.

.

"I can't do this- anymore. I just-“ He knew the words before she says them.

“Please."

She saw them forming in the way his breath quickens, the way he stood, hands folded into fist in front of her as if this was all casual, in the way the light in his eyes seems to dim, in the way the gentle 'o' of his soft lips hardened into a grim slash of feeling.

His fingers tentatively gripped at the smooth handle of the suitcase. Sandpaper grated against the back of his throat, and he took a moment to clear it. Words spin around in his head, balancing on the tip of his tongue, so tantalizingly close yet so far, far away.

He had wanted to attack her with his anger. He wanted to let her know exactly what she did to him, so she could feel some empathy. However as soon as she looks at him, all that had faded and nothing of malice remained.

He takes a breath. "I understand." he settled on finally, but she knew he didn't; he didn't quite believe the words himself. He opened his mouth once more to say something, anything, else, but he closed his eyes and shook his head.

For a moment they just stood there in the others' presence, his training keeping him from displaying anything but uttered calm and allowing her to wring her fingers and look distressed.

He wondered about those eyes of hers, wondered how she sees him. If she saw them the way he does, in a land where everything was as it should be, and, yet, everything so different.

Love was replaced with foreign emotions, colder and more painful than their predecessors. She saw them, icy and forbidden, tightly frosted over the well of emotion within those dark color. They were not what she is used to.

But, then, what is she used to? Already he couldn’t remember her smile, or her laughter. And she stood there, a coexistence of emotion- placid yet chaos, fragile and broken - right there in front of him. She betrayed him.

"Is this…" she stopped, looked at him. She watched the muscles in his shoulders grew taut, and his body seems to freeze up and tense. Finally she coughed. "….because of me?"

His eyes snap at her and tell her, even though he himself speaks nothing. And she read his answer, and as he did so, she felt herself begin to break inside. Little, by little, like a shattered mirror or an out of season roses, she cracked and wilted under the pressure of his eyes.

Back then, her childish nature brought him into a smile to happiness. They seem like happiest person in the world every second they spent their time together. Just being with her make him forgets everything. At least for the past 1 year –their world had change 180 degree because of her. It was her fault.

"I'll send you the document," he replies quietly, turning his body. "I'll…" he takes a deep breath and she knows he's running out of words to say. “Let’s get divorce…”

The simple word he finally said. Ringing through her minds. Eyes become poignant; with all her mighty she held the tears. Staring blankly at him, cannot believe what he just said. She shook her head trying to throw that word. "I never meant to hurt you. Not like this. I know what you've been through and this must feel like the final insult to you, but please believe me when I say that I was wrong and that I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"You know, in some twisted way that makes sense to me." He sighed, "I still need some time to think. I'm sorry Soojung-ah. I just can't be with you after this kind of betrayal."

No. That's not it. He didn't want to say anything to her. She disgusted him.

"Myungsoo, Do you hate me?" she asks suddenly, inwardly wincing at the hurt plea resonating beneath the surface of her words.

A quiet breeze ruffles his standard black jacket. This time his turn, he stunned, frozen. Her eyes seem to focus on him, as he regained his conscious and turned to face her. His caring eyes, his brightly face, now faded become the tired one. Then they widen as if he has seen her for the first time.

For her sake, or maybe his, he managed a small, tight smile. She wondered where he learned that quiet, familiar gesture. Then she realized he's gotten it from her.

"No," he said quietly, but he sees those tortuous grey clouds in his eyes, those things she didn’t recognize. She reaches for him, a symbol of comfort, but he stepped back and away from her.

"No. I don’t hate you," he repeated, eyes twinkling amid clouds. Once she would've trusted his words. But now, her eyes narrow, trying to find a fault in the way he held himself, the way he spoke slowly and deliberately as if to a child.

Not as if. He is a child. A child with no control over his own emotions, a child that couldn’t rein himself in, unless it was positively literal, and then some. He is a child, and even in his love he acts as one. A lover with no regard to another is not a lover at all.

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak exactly. Until he nodded to her for a final time and he turned away.

He could see in her eyes that she was filled with compassion and regret for what she did. There was no need to remind her of a mistake that she was well aware of. There is one way; apologize. But it’s too late for her…

It is only when he has exited what could be considered a normal person's earshot that he muttered something softly and painfully.

"I don't hate you. You cannot hate someone you don’t know. I pity you….Soojung-ah."

She held her tears. Watching his body turns from her as well as he continued walking. He continued walking until she hears the sound of a sad, hollow door click shut.

She slumped on her knees tears finally running down her cheek uncontrollable crying so hard loud enough to be heard. It was her mistakes.

As the door shut, he quickened his pace with breathes roughly, his vision become blurry. Then he entered his car. Step onto the gas. With speed he is running, running, running down the street, but he does not know from what he is running. Away from what he's always wanted, perhaps, or rather, what he'd had, until everything was pulled so violently and quickly from within his reach. Watching someone you care someone you love someone precious more than you’re live, betrayed you with someone else. Perhaps that was it.

Spinning tires on the asphalt carried him to a destination he had given no conscious thought, but after hours of travel, he parked under their tree. The places when they still doing everything together.

He struggled to breath but the tears keep streaming down his face make it so difficult and painful that he decided to give up calmed breathing.

Cross his hand on the steering wheels. He hides his head between them. Racks with sobs until, He noticed wet drops on his clothes.

It was then He realized he was crying.

For her.

For him.

For all that they lost.

Finally, a lone tear escaped his eyes, trailing down his face before splashing onto the steering wheels below him. He drifts into sleep, pursued only by a twisted laugh and a voice.

'You don’t have her anymore Kim Myungsoo…'

Within

kimmyungsoojung © 2014

a/n thank you for reading for those who've been waiting I'm so sorry for taking such a long time, my computer had broken and so many homework from the college... a lot of things happened in 2013, but this year I've been feeling so happy 'cause of that myungstal (^_^)/ Yay!! okay! that's for all, let's hope I'm able to update the other story within this month... again thanks for reading, subscribing, I'll be waiting for the comment :D for silent reader, you're all such a good reader ;)