Just as Jongin finished his performance, he descended from the stage and headed towards the audience. I did not need another confirmation to know that he was headed towards me. One step, two steps, he was inching closer and closer to me. As each second passed by, my heartbeat continued to escalate in anticipation and nervousness.

I was nervous. How was I supposed to face Jongin after realizing my feelings? Our false hopes of our relationship returning to its original form from years ago shattered to bits and burned in deception. He wanted to return to the past; well, not return to the past, but more like restore the past. I have too made my decision.

Unsurprisingly, he stopped directly before me with a boyish grin. From the hand that hid behind his back ever since exiting stage emerged a single, vibrantly red rose. He tilted the symbolic flower towards me and smiled even deeper.

“Angel,” he began. No, don’t call me that. Let go of the past. After eight years, I have finally let go of the past and stopped allowing it to haunt my present life. Perhaps the past was simply a delightful memory that he cherishes once in a while, we should still not return to the past, because it was simply impractical. His title of affection for me no longer brought flutters to my heart but rather added nerves to the already existing bundle in my stomach. “You stole my breath and heart away thirteen years ago, when I saw you dance for the first time. I’ve never saw someone who danced with their heart and life so much before. I’ve never met someone who shared the same passion for perfection in every dance step before. I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you.”

“Jongin…” I grabbed onto his free hand, but not to adore his sudden confession, but to attempt to impede his speech in complete astonishment. The nerves within me were almost becoming overwhelming combined with the watchful eyes of our very own audience.

He shook his head slightly and continued to grin at me like the boyish idiot he was. “Angel, even when I left, I never stopped loving you and wanting to hold you in my arms again-”

Without letting him finish, I dragged him backstage, away from the scrutinizing eyes of the audience that has already formed a circular crowd around the two of us. They were cheering us on, howling, and whooping when we left. Before we actually reached the confinements of the backstage, I caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blonde hair, but I paid no attention to it at the moment, because I needed to get this conversation off my chest, before both relationships proceed to a point of no reversal. I needed to fixit, before we take yet another faulty road.

“Jongin,” I began in a broken voice, absolutely not sure of how to actually tell him.

“Angel.”

“Jongin, no. Stop calling me Angel. Please,” I begged. It was so pathetic. I was allowing the past swallow me whole again, but this time, I was going to crawl out that black hole before it suffocates me. “Jongin, we can’t go back. We just can’t.”

His warm, ecstatic expression faltered, and I wallowed in guilt. I couldn’t do this - no.

“We have to move on, Jongin.”

Then, he smiled again. What? “Jen, I know. We can’t go back. So, let’s start over again.”

I sighed a breath of relief at his statement. Finally, I can gear the conversation back to my intended topic. “Jongin, that’s what I wanted to get to.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He pulled me into an embrace, causing the red rose to drop to the floor. As he nuzzled his in the nook of my neck, I watched the petals detach lifelessly from the flower and imagined it withering away. As I was still immersed in the sorrowful sight of the ephemeral flower, I felt Jongin pulling away from me before I sensed a pair of familiarly plump and lush lips on mine. My eyes snapped to the figure before me and saw Jongin’s closed eyes and chiseled nose barely centimeters from mine. I did not close my eyes for even a second during the kiss. It felt different.

“Thank you, Jen. For giving me another-”

“No.” I backed away from his stunned figure. “No, Jongin. This is wrong. This is not what I meant.”

“What?” His eyes were shining under the tungsten lights; tears were apparently gathering in his eyes, and I immediately regretted my harsh diction. “What do you mean, Angel?”

I closed my eyes and almost groaned in frustration as I once again heard him calling me that nickname. “Jongin, no. Stop, please. When I said that I agreed with you on starting over, I meant starting over separately.”

“Jen…”

“When I saw you dance on that stage tonight, shining under those stage lights, dancing to our song, I realized something. I not only realized that we should move on from the past, but the of us cannot start anew together.”

“Jen, what-”

“Please, just let me finish. During those eight years, not once did I say I was going to wait for you to come back, and not once did you ask me to. We never expected each other to continue loving each other. Although I loved you long after your leave and you, apparently, still love me, it’s different. You’ve changed. I’ve definitely changed. Our relationship changed beyond identical reconstruction.”

He grabbed onto my wrists in attempt to disregard my words. “Jen, I know we still love each other. Can’t we just start the entire process over again?”

I could not dispute his words, when they were simple facts. “Yeah, we do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I love you, Jongin. I really do. But just as an old friend.”

He stumped a few steps backwards as a regretful tear trailed down my rosy cheeks. “I love Sehun, Jongin. I can’t let him go.”

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