SungJong’s POV

I would love to say that since my mother died, I was never afraid of anything in the world. That death was the scariest thing I could have experienced and that hers made me tougher. But I can’t. Even though I act like I’m tough, I am still the sixteen year old kid who is still sad because his father left him.  I am still the teenager who is afraid of everyone who sets foot in my life abandoning me. I faced the truth long ago; anyone who is important to me will one day go. And it will be my fault, of that I am positive.

My phone falls carelessly from my fingers to the floor with a small thud. I stare wide-eyed at the sight in front of me and fight the urge to scream. Is it just me and my imagination, or is this real? I don’t want to risk blinking, so I just stare.

My apartment lies in shatters, glass strewn about, chairs and couches and lamps lying in random places. The walls are peeled off, showing letters written in bright red. I let out a choked sob and immediately cover my mouth with my hand.

What happened, happened. Move on!

The message, is it meant for me? Shaking like mad, I pick up my phone from the ground and dial the only person I know won’t freak out and overthink everything: Myungsoo. I feel desperate, but I know Howon has classes right now and he’s already juggling with his job and school. Dongwoo is immediately out, leaving Myungsoo. Sighing and letting in a sharp breath, I click his name, never taking my eyes off of the wall or the messy room. 

It rings once.

Come on, Myungsoo, pick up.

It rings twice.

Please. By now, I am close to tears.

It rings thrice.

I need you right now.

“Hello?”

His voice sends waves of relief through my body and I almost shout his name and yell for help. But even though I am desperately in need of help right now, I calm myself, take a deep breath, and speak.

“Myungsoo,” I begin steadily, “Could I… Come over? Just for the night. Please, I-“

“Look, Sungjong,” he cuts me off, “I don’t know if that’s for the best right now. I think… Maybe we should distance ourselves from each other.”

Silence. Only, not really. There’s a ringing in my ear and I wonder if I am the only one that hears it. Tears fall from my eyes before I can try to hold them back. Distance was what my father needed when my mother got too sick and the family became too dependent on him. Distance was what he needed, a drink. Distance was the reason he never came back. I try to convince myself that I am okay, because I was prepared for this. He was bound to get tired of me and I was bound to be forgotten. But I don’t know why it hurts so much.

Maybe it was because somehow I thought he would be that person that would never get tired of me and be my friend. I always maybe thought that when he needed me, I’d be there for him. And when I needed him, he would be there for me. Like Howon, Dongwoo, and me. Maybe I overthought the day he saved me.  Maybe to him, it had meant nothing but a personal assistant.

“Okay,” is all I say before I hang up the phone.

The world is a bitter place with bitter people full of bitter emotions. People say everything happens for a reason, but does it really? I mean, was my life set up to be this way so that eventually one day I will be successful in my life. But what have I got to be successful for? When I was younger, the only reason I dreamt of ever being rich was to save my mother and get her the medical treatment she needed to get better, to live. Now, I don’t want to have so much money; I just want enough to survive.

I have now become one of those people in this ocean of bitterness. I can’t help it.

Howon was understanding, freaked out, but understanding. That was all I needed.

“Only for the night,” I say, staring blankly at the cup of Ramen he gave me.

“As long as you want,” he says.

“That’s all I need.”

There was a time when I did things because I wanted to, because I liked it. Now I do things because I need to. There isn’t enough space to want things. I just take what I need and leave more than satisfied. I sigh heavily and put down the steaming soup, deciding that if I take even one bite I might throw it back up. Howon tells me he will stay home for today, and I feel even more uneasy than when I first called him while he was in the middle of class. He told me he rushed out and had to write an essay to the teacher for being disrespectful, which would take more time away from his already busy which made me feel like in return. I shake my head and immediately decline his offer.

“No,” I say, “I’m fine. You can go. You can’t miss class and not go to work.”

“Fine,” he reasons.

This is why I tell Howon these things; he doesn’t over worry about me. I love Dongwoo, but this would make him go crazy. I think back to our previous conversation and shudder. He knows how little I tell him, and yet he tells me it’s okay, and that he gets it. Would he react the same if he knew I had been telling Howon? I doubt it and the guilt sets in.

I’m a liar. How can I try to convince myself I will always be there for my friends, when I can’t even tell them how messed up I am?

When Howon is out of the apartment, I close my eyes and lie on the small couch.

I dream of my apartment in shatters, me crouching in the middle. I have my eyes shut tight with my hands on my ears. Noise doesn’t echo from my throat when I scream for help, and I call the one person I can think of. Myungsoo. But he doesn’t come for me. He just appears at the door and stands there watching me, an evil smirk on his face. 

I jolt awake, and when I open my eyes I see Myungsoo. Or what appears to be him. I shake my hand through the air where he stands, and he dissolves into nothingness.

Why does it hurt so damn much?