I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the office building and stepped outside. The sky had turned a darker shade of blue and the wind had increased in speed but decreased in temperature; it stung my raw cheeks. I shoved my hands in my pockets and started on my journey home. It would be home a lot faster if I called my parents and asked them to pick me up, but I was absolutely in no mood to talk to anyone. I wanted to be alone. My vision was blurry with tears but I was too stunned to cry. I felt numb.

            I was surprised I found my way home, because my mind was spinning out of control with thoughts. I was angry, hurt, lonely, stunned, and confused.

            And, I’m pretty sure, going insane.

            The walkway to the front door of my house seemed to go on for miles. I managed to go the distance, my legs wobbling by the time I reached the porch and walked through the door.

            Mom was in the kitchen. “Kirin! How was the movie?” she asked perkily.

            She received no response. I simply walked straight through the living room and up the stairs.

            I think I heard footsteps behind me, but all my senses were distorting. Mom stood at the foot of the stairs. “Kirin, is everything okay?”

            I answered her by slamming my bedroom door shut as loud as I possibly could. That meant ‘obviously not’, ‘don’t even think about following me’, and ‘leave me the hell alone’ all at the same time.

            I needed to be alone.

            I stood with my back against the locked door. I slid down slowly until I was curled into a ball, my knees pulled to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I let everything out. I cried harder than I had on my way to confronting Byunghun. Honestly, I’ve never cried this badly in my entire life. My eyes felt like they would pop out of their weary sockets and my stomach lurched. With every gut-wrenching sob I exhaled, my shoulders knocked against the door. My whole body was convulsing violently.

            Byunghun wasn’t mine anymore.

            Somehow, I managed to lift my eyes. Though my vision was comparable to a blind person’s, something shone in the corner of my eye.

            Taped to the wall above my desk was one of my most prizes possessions; a large poster of the swirly galaxy of Andromeda. The swirly violet cluster of stars shone brilliantly against the stark blackness of outer space. It was a beautiful picture with a beautiful meaning behind it. I positioned it on the wall so it faced my bed, and every night before I went to bed I looked at it. There were two windows above my bed directly across from the poster, so whenever the sun shined into my room, Andromeda glowed.

            But right now, Andromeda was mocking me.

            I used all the strength in my body to stand up on my shaky legs. My eyes were transfixed on the poster. Upon first glance, Andromeda was gorgeous. It was everything you could ever ask for. Mysterious, stunning, beautiful. But after you really got to know it, you learned Andromeda was a deadly mass of swirling fire. It swirled round and round and never stopped.

            Until today.

            I stared down the poster like a lion stalking its prey. I gripped the delicate edges of the poster. It only took one swift motion and one loud, agonizing shout to rip it right off the wall. I completely massacred it. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I dug my nails into my palms and I tore the thin sheet of paper into tiny pieces, completely obliterating the once-beautiful image. I fell to my knees, the floor around me scattered with pieces of Andromeda. I turned my palms upward and looked down at them through my teary vision. I had dug my nails into my palms so hard there were tiny curve-shaped cuts all over my palms, droplets of blood pooling on each of them.

            I let out another cry of anguish and squeezed my hands into tight fists. I stood up slowly and kicked the pieces of the poster in the air, turning on my heels and landing face-down onto my bed. Eyes puffy and bloodshot, I blindly reached for a pillow to bury my face in and soak with my tears. I curled up on my bed, the bed Byunghun and I had once slept in. A pillow was clutched in my bloody hands.

            I sobbed my heart out.

            The next time I moved, it was 7:21 PM. I had sullenly slipped off my date outfit and popped open the top drawer of my dresser. I fished out my favorite black t-shirt of Byunghun’s and slipped it on. I desperately wished it still smelled like him. After pulling on his sweatpants, I crawled under my covers on the right side of the bed. The side he had slept on. I had no intentions of sleeping right now. Though my entire body was tired and achy, I knew this was going to be a sleepless night. I reached down to the floor beside my bed and pulled my laptop under the covers with me.

            Normally when I’m feeling as perky as a dead fish, I force my stubby earbuds in my ears and hunt through the 621 songs on my iPod until I find a good attitude-enriched one. I’ll then commence to loop the song over and over again until I feel necessary, all while either drawing something found on my desk or in my mind. Generally this ordeal plagues my life for a good hour or so, or until I’m willing to cooperate to find a solution or I’ve talked myself into getting over the situation. Maybe the grade on that biology test wouldn’t bring my GPA down too much. Maybe I could forgive Kyusoon for our argument. Maybe Dad would let me go out tonight if we talked it out calmly. And if after an hour of etching away at that poor piece of paper and abusing my eardrums didn’t fix my sour mood, I’d talk to Byunghun.

            Never before had the second not been an option for me, until today.

            I watched the play-count on the iTunes screen change from 792 to 793. Like magic, the three opening beats of 2PM’s “I Hate You” filled my eardrums for the hundredth time tonight. Play number 793. Either I was hopelessly addicted to this song, or I had anger management problems. In the beginning, it was definitely the former. These days, I’m starting to believe the latter.

             I had locked the door so there was absolutely no way I could be scolded by an outside force into ripping the earbuds out of my head and doing something productive with my life. Three biology textbooks and an organic chemistry textbook lay in a heavy heap on the floor beside my desk. I hadn’t touched them since Friday when I came home from school, and the thought of doing so hadn’t crossed my mind once. My brain told me I should probably start reading Chapter 18 of organic chemistry to be prepared for class on Monday, but my mind told me to screw it. I didn’t care. Medical school would forgive me for being in a foul mood for one night of my teenage life.

             Except it wasn’t going to be just be one night. Another would follow tomorrow. And another one after that. Why deny the inevitable? It was going to be one miserable week. And another one would follow. I was beginning to believe this was going to be my life from here on out. In a few years, they’ll find me here, curled in a ball, my laptop collecting dust beside me, with the play-count for “I Hate You” in the hundred-thousandths. My mom will be bawling as the morticians lift up my frail, gray wrist, hoping to find a pulse but find instead that my skin was ice cold. My mom will let out a distressing sob as the morticians shake their heads in disbelief. My dad would painfully question why now, why me, why? The morticians will give each other quick, despairing glances and then commence to report the cause of death: a broken heart.

            No matter how hard I tried to convince myself to hate Byunghun, I couldn’t. I was angry at him for sure; I was absolutely undoubtedly pissed off at him. But after a rough breakup, aren’t you supposed to hate your ex? Shouldn’t you hate him for all the wrong he did you, all the pain he’s putting you through? Shouldn’t you be crying on your best friend’s shoulder, listening to the pep talk she was giving you about how he was a loser and you’re much better off? I supposed I could call Hyerin or Min Neul and vent and cry my eyes out to them, but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment. I wanted to be alone to marinate in my own misery, with nothing but Byunghun’s black t-shirt, my laptop, and the pillow I had soaked with my tears. I couldn’t hate him. I just couldn’t. He had made some major mistakes, and we had fought…but I had no one to blame for the breakup but myself. Wasn’t it my bullet that killed us?

            I didn’t hate Byunghun. I hated myself for letting him go so easily.

            Taecyeon’s despondent rap was suddenly interrupted by a loud banging sound that came from the other side of the door. I jumped, and yanked the covers off my head. One of the earbuds fell out of my ears as I heard my Dad plead from the other side of the door, “Kirin, honey, please open the door.”

            I picked up my heavy hand and used all my strength to pause the song. As the music stopped abruptly, I realized I had a throbbing headache. The tears flooded back to the corners of my eyes in a matter of seconds as I winced from the pain felt in my head, my stomach, and my heart. “What do you want?” I heard a voice demand that was not my own.

            “Kirin, please open the door! If something’s wrong, please talk to us about it,” Mom pleaded.

            “Go away,” I heard that same voice spit bitterly.

            “Why won’t she tell us what’s wrong?” I heard Dad ask Mom.

             “I think I know what happened,” I heard Mom say.

            “Well? What happened?” Dad asked.

            Mom sighed. “She had a date with L.Joe today. It probably went badly.”

            “That’s all?” Dad asked Mom, baffled. “Kirin, honey,” he called through the door, “A bad date is no reason to get so upset.”

            My blood boiled. “OH MY GOD. BYUGNHUN AND I BROKE UP. OKAY? WE. BROKE. UP. UNDERSTAND? NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!”

            I heard Mom gasp. “Sweetheart—”

            Tears again. Hot tears. “Leave me the hell alone!”

            “Lee Kirin, watch your language!” Dad scolded sternly.

             “MAKE ME!”

             “That’s it,” I heard Dad say. “Lee Kirin, if you don’t open this door right this minute I’m going to take the doorknob off and come in there myself!

             “Knock yourself out,” that bitter voice retorted curtly.

            “Chanho, you’re not really going to do that, are you?” I heard my mother’s muffled voice.

            “Yes, I really am. Where’s my tool kit?” I heard my Dad stomp down the hallway and my Mom follow close behind, trying to tell him this was just a phase and I was going to be out of this slump soon. ‘They’re just going through a rough breakup,’ ‘this won’t last forever,’ ‘they’ll work this out,’ and other bull.

            I turned my attention back to the iTunes screen on my computer. I scowled at the collection of songs. I was in the middle of deleting every Big Bang song a certain pink-haired boy ever loved through my blurry vision when I heard the angry buzz of a drill. I whipped my head up to find a square hole in my door, the silver doorknob on the floor and my father standing in the doorway, a yellow drill in his hand.

             “Get out of here!” that voice shrieked again.

             “Kirin, look at yourself! You’ve got to get a grip!” my father cried desperately. “This isn’t the end of the world!”

            “Dad, why can’t you just leave me alone?” that distraught voice quivered. I suddenly realized that voice was my own. A large lump the size of a baseball was lodged in my throat, chocking me.

            “Chanho, yelling at her isn’t going to help!” My mom suddenly appeared from behind my dad. She shuffled into the room and over to where I was on my bed. I turned my attention back to my laptop as I shoved the earbuds back into my ears. Mom stopped me.

            “Kirin, please listen to your father and me,” she kindly begged, placing a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t the end of the world, alright?”

            “Stop telling me that!” I shouted at her, my head pounding. “Just shut up, both of you!”

            Was this what dying felt like? My head throbbed, my stomach ached, I was shaking all over and my hands were clammy and ice cold but my blood was boiling as I seething with anger and desperation. My vision was blurry, my eardrums were ringing like mad and my lungs felt like they had shriveled up and wouldn’t let any air inside. 

          “Do you have any idea what’s going on with me? Do you have any idea at all? Byunghun and I broke up, Mom, WE BROKE UP! I spent nearly eight months of my life head over heels in love with him, spending all my time with him, hearing him tell me how much he loved me and cared about me, and now look what’s happened! I’m a wreck, Mom, I’m a freaking wreck! Know why? Because I finally found the one person who understood me better than I understood myself and that I loved more than anyone else in the world and now he’s gone! Know why? Because I let him go too easily. Because I’m nobody and he’s a ing celebrity, Mom, a ing celebrity!”

             “Lee Kirin, you know better than to use language like that!” my dad shouted.

            “SHUT UP!” I shouted to my father in a voice that sounded nothing like my own.  

            What on earth happened to me? I felt like I was turning into a monster. I didn’t feel like the shy little bookworm art-freak I usually am. I felt like dying. My life had simply withered away into nothing because I had lost the one thing that kept me going. The one thing that made me truly happy. The one person who made me feel special, wanted, beautiful. The only thing I wanted in life was to feel Lee Byunghun’s arms tight around me, my fingers through his soft pink hair, hearing him whisper how beautiful I was, how much he loved me, while staring deep into his chocolate-brown almond-shaped eyes. Byunghun was my drug and I was going through withdrawal. I had become an addict six months ago and needed my daily hit, my daily fix to keep me going throughout the day. I needed the rush of energy, the jolt of dopamine running through my veins that only Byunghun could give me at the mere sight of him. But I was a broke addict. I had no means to attain my drug. He had packed his bags and left his home in my heart and all that was left was a cruel eviction notice.

              “LEE KIRIN, YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO YOUR FATHER THAT WAY, YOU HEAR ME?” Dad yelled, the veins on his neck popping.

             “WOULD IT KILL YOU TO BE A LITTLE BIT COMPASSIONATE?!” I yelled back.

            “ENOUGH!” my mom shouted at my father and I, which just made me burst into more tears.

            Through my blurry vision I saw my dad shake his head. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea from the start. I should have never allowed you to date Byunghun, never. What on Earth was I thinking…”

            Dad’s comment only made me cry harder. I felt sick to my stomach.

            He was right.

            “Chanho, you’re not helping!” cried my mother, who was obviously the only one who pitied me in horrendous the state I was in.

            “Alright, fine!” Dad cried, throwing his hands up. “But all I’m going to say is that I knew this was a horrible idea from the start. I never wanted you dating that boy, Kirin, I knew he would be nothing but trouble—”

            “Chanho, please!” my mom cried sternly.

            My dad let out a deep sigh and shook his head. He muttered something under his breath and his heels to march out of the room. He slammed the door behind him only to find the hinges moan as it creaked back open.

            Mom turned her attention back to me. “Kirin, don’t listen to your father, alright? It’s going to be okay. I know you’re upset, I know how important Byunghun was to you, but—”

            “Mom,” I breathed desperately, letting my breath escape me. Tears were sliding down my cheeks as I begged, my voice calm and low, almost a hush. “Please, Mom. Just leave me alone.”

            Mom studied my face for a moment, her expression despairing. She leaned down to kiss my forehead. A long, tender kiss. I was really thankful she did so, because it let me know she respected my request to be alone.

             But it only made me want to cry harder, for Byunghun used to kiss my forehead like that all the time.

             “I’m here if you need me, okay?” Mom said in a soft, low voice. I nodded. I wiped a tear away only to find another on in its place in a split second.

            My mom sighed and stood up, turned her back, and walked out. She closed the door behind her, but it cracked back open. Scowling, I stormed over to the door, kicked the doorknob into the hallway like a soccer ball and slammed the door behind me, barricading the door with my desk chair. I chuckled my laptop on the desk, grabbed my iPod, and slithered like a night-crawler back into bed.

             Stuffing the earbuds back into my ears, I pulled the covers over my head again.

            I’ll only admit this to myself, and those lucky enough to be reading my miserable story. I tiredly my iPod, scanned my extensive collection of songs through my blurry, teary vision. I stopped on Teen Top’s “Angel,” a song I couldn’t bring myself to delete no matter how hard I tried. I held back the tears all through Niel’s charming opening, the heart-felt chorus, and the sweet stanzas that followed. The second I heard L.Joe’s “Yo” at the very beginning of his charming, lovable rap, I broke the dam that held the tears back. The spilled down my cheeks at a rapid rate, my eyes burning with every tear that slid at the sound of his voice. I replayed that damn song over and over again, sobbing endlessly. Every time L.Joe’s chorus came around, I hit a deeper low.

            I replayed that song on repeat all night long, crying myself unconscious.

- - - - - -

Ahhh, I see the breakup shocked some of you! What do you think? There are only four chapters left after this one...will Kirin and Byunghun get back together? WHO KNOWS!

Oh, wait.

I do! XD