Someone whispered his name in a broken voice. The name sounded so familiar yet the most foreign. It was a while before I realized that the voice belonged to me, and that my chest constricted considerably simply by speaking such a combination of letters. His deep, coffee-brown orbs fixated on my trembling frame, however vulnerable, as mine examined the outline of his body.

    Since our last meeting, his height increased a few inches and his body seemed more toned. His presence was still just as alluring, his eyes just as charming-

    “What are you doing here?” someone asked in a contrastingly hostile and cold tone. Yet those words again emitted from my own heaving chest. I was not supposed to be falling for him again. I was not supposed to be charmed by his looks again, to be drawn in by his honey-velvet voice.

    As my eyes left his to meet the hardwood floor, I noticed my feet stumbling backwards, away from Jongin. It was as if my body knew before my mind did how he was detrimental to my well-being. Perhaps that was a hyperbole - he was indeed not to the extent of detrimental, but he definitely affected my rationality and took away my happiness for a definite amount of time.

    When those harsh words passed the barriers of my lips in the frequency of my voice, Jongin faltered for a moment; his eyes lost their spark, and their dullness reminded me of his profile during our last minutes shared together. I almost felt guilty for acting so heartless, but then I reminded myself that I had no fault in this situation - at least I did not share the majority of it.

    He bit his lower lip out of habit, yet again tugging at my torn heartstrings. “I’m back,” he smiled, but it was almost like a broken smile. It was reminiscent of a beautiful piece of glass artwork that had been shattered beyond repair. And perhaps I was the culprit behind that.

    “So?”

    It’s funny how one simple word can erase any hope of reconciling and rebounding the shards of our shared past and future. But I asked that rhetorical question acknowledging the possible outcomes of my words and bearing the sole desire to push him away again.

    Because I was not ready to see him again. My heart was not ready to beat for him again.

    “Ca-can we talk?” Jongin asked as he paced slowly toward me. “Please?” he pleaded.

    How could I reject him?

    So here we were, sitting across each other with solemn facial expressions and caffeinated drinks that reminded us both of scenes of our past. I was simply staring at my mocha latte, absolutely refusing to meet his piercing gaze, while repeatedly clenching and unclenching my reddened fists in my lap. I thought about what he could possibly want to talk about: how we both have been in the years of each others’ absences, his return, our careers, dance, our prospective future.

    “Angel-”

“Don’t. Please don’t call me that.” I adverted my eyes to the scenery beyond the glass windows of the cafe as I observed his eyebrows twitch in confusion and hurt from my peripheral view. The pet name was from the long-gone past. Before his return, I was so determined to forget about everything in order to move on. Before today, I was making great progress - with the help of Sehun, of course. But today, half of that resolve broke down. I had already lost half of this challenge, this game of love. With him calling me that name again, I was already fated to lose the other half. I absolutely did not need any of that.

After moments of tense silence, I finally decided to look at him, only to realize that his view was still fixated on me; I realized that it never left me. My heartbeat unnaturally sped up a few pulses, but I refused to acknowledge it. I’m just nervous. But I could not ignore his pained expression despite how many times I reminded myself that he caused his own pain.

After I disrupted his train of thoughts and stumped him, he was searching for the right words to say. “Jen...I...I’m sorry.”

I almost scoffed at his words, but oggled at him in utter disbelief instead. “Sorry? For what?”

“For leaving.”

“No, you’re not sorry,” I countered. “Even if you are, you shouldn’t be. You were just working toward reaching your goal. What’s there to be apologetic about?” For a moment he seemed surprised at my statement, as if never expecting me to think of the situation in such a way. In all honesty, I did not expect myself to say those words either. Did I actually forgive him?

But there was nothing to forgive all along.

Neither of us uttered a word after that. When had it become so awkward between us? Before, we never ran out of subject matters to discuss; we rarely ran out of words to say. Even in the rare occasions that we did, the atmosphere never became awkward. Yet, awkward did not even cut it.

“Thank you,” I resolved to say civilly, “I guess. For contacting me again.”

Jongin’s grin that appeared afterwards was so painful and ephemeral that it almost pained me to see him like so. “I just wanted to see you again...after so many years.” I saw the dampness in his eyes. “I missed you.”

Those three words struck an unfamiliar chord within me, and suddenly I felt all my walls that I had built for myself the day I received his voicemail disintegrating. I could not deny the baring fact that I missed him - so much that I ceased to function during those initial months, but my pride prevented me from admitting it. But it was not only a matter of pride; it was a matter of not wanting to let my body and soul ache to that extent again.

“Yeah,” I replied, almost pathetically.

He smirked, as if knowing perfectly well that my replied was to be so. Jongin knew me too well - too well for my current liking. “Did you miss me?” he asked the inevitable question.

“Perhaps.”

“I hope you did. Every day that I was away from you, I thought, ‘Does she miss me the way I miss her? Does she long for me the way I long for her touch? Does she still love me?’” Jongin suddenly grasped onto my hands, startling me. But I was too paralyzed by his warmth to detract from his inviting touch. So I lifelessly remained in the same position and listened to his monologue. “I was too scared to think of possible answers. But now that I’m back, with you, again, I can ask you directly. Even if your feelings have changed, I’ll still work hard to be with you again…”

His declaration scared me. I didn’t know how to respond, or even if I was supposed to respond. Everything connecting me to him was already buried in the past; was it really worth it to dig those memories and feelings of passion and love back up from the muddled dirt? Was I even ready to simply have him back in my life - not as a lover, even - again? Did he belong in my life?

Perhaps the space that was reserved for him had long been filled by another person. But I still heard his feelings - loud and clear.

“Because I still love you.”