Warning: might contain mistakes, typos, grammatical errors, and such. I just finished it off, I don’t know if it’s the best, but I don’t want to let you all waiting either. So, I squished the last of my inspiration and energy into this! It’s so fresh the oven’s (my head) still hot (over worked xD).

Anyways, enjoy~

The one who was left

Everything shined new, furniture barely used and the walls’ paint still releasing a toxic scent. Picture frames were placed over the shelves, small decorations and loads of stacked books by them. And as he glanced at the photos, he found a young man dressed in a neat black suit that wrapped his form perfectly, hair styled and a smile on his face. By him stood a young woman dressed in a white designer dress, reaching the floor and covering her shoes, the tail sprawled around her as she smiled at the camera as well, her brown hair in perfect curls and the make-up flattered her already beautiful face.

And the scene was a dreamy one; the couple stood at a large balcony, the lights of Seoul filling in the night behind them as the ceremony had taken place on the top floor of an expensive hotel which also happened to be a huge room that was filled with tables and chairs, food stands, butlers and waiters, and a pianist in the middle of it all.

The night was still a fresh memory even if it had been a couple months already that he had promised to love her through health and sickness, till death pulled them apart, till everything ended. He had promised to take care of her, love her, protect her. And in return, she had promised the same, supporting him through every stressful day and sleepless night, pushing him back on his feet and shoving him back into his tiring routine.

A couple had turned into husband and wife that night and Minseok could still hear the cheers of their guests. The sounds were still echoing in his ears and the tears of his mother’s when she kept going and going about how her little boy turned into a man were still vivid as well. Minseok had felt like he should interject and tell her about the fact that he had been a man since he stepped into his twenty-first year of being alive but, he didn’t want to ruin his mother’s happiness, as much as he himself thought of it pointless.

But, with or without his mother’s constant tearing up, he was still married now to the young woman his father had advised to and, not that surprisingly, Minah had proven to be a very caring wife.

The first couple of weeks since the ‘incident’ happened—which Minseok refused to recall whatsoever—he’d been avoiding her and his parents like the plague, continuing the life he had suggested. He had traveled about, sleeping in cheap motels, watching the sunrise from the uphills, ate at small shops in backstreets, drank bubble tea while hoodies hid his face. He had been living off his bank money and he had actually done what he had said; run away.

He’d been running away from everything, living like a stray with nowhere to go and nowhere to come back to. The first nights were painful and the absence of him was too much and he would stir and toss and sleep few hours and wake up crying because when he opened his eyes, there was no one to stare at him and tell him about some dream that he watched and even he couldn’t recall.

And along with those dreams, his future plans were also shoved into trash cans and emptied in an ocean, dirtying the water due to their lack of facts. He had been aiming for a lie, something that was never supposed to be true or even the slightest piece of reality for the matter.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he had stopped living in the past and after the month that took him to mentally recover, he threw everything behind him and stepped back to his house; yells he still could not hear the end of sometimes haunted him as soon as he opened the door. But he was back, ready to return to whatever life it had been because, in all honesty, he had no other option.

His money would slowly drain at some point and his parents had already informed the police about him missing. He wouldn’t be able to live alone either; a world of running, hiding, he couldn’t do that. And he sent props to him for going through that for years. More or less when he didn’t even know where the universe had thrown him at.

But the memories were left behind just like most of that month. He couldn’t remember now how mind control felt on him, how telekinesis worked, how eyes flashed unusual hues of blue. He couldn’t remember what supernatural was and most of all, he couldn’t remember why he had actually believed so much in alien forces.

Or maybe, he refused to remember.

Forgetting seemed to be easy, convenient, less painful when you didn’t remember why exactly you hurt. Little details were dug deep in his chest, feelings and thoughts along, and after that one month, he was convinced that forgetting would be healthier for him.

The name still rang in the back of his head, maybe that soft voice calling him would also re-surface once in a while, traveling to his ears when the wind would pick up, small breezes sounding just like him. But he refused to say the name attached to that person—it felt almost fake and the taste of it on his tongue was more bitter than sweet. There would be moments when he will be starving for affection, a kiss or maybe a hug, or just a touch. And while his body craved for some of it, it refused foreign hands at the same time. For some reason he couldn’t accept anyone’s reach, his body still recovering from the trauma the lack of his hands on him had caused.

And his distance had been obvious and his mother had pointed it out when he refused hugs from her or light pats or even her attempts of as much as correcting his hairstyle or dusting off his suit’s jacket. But he couldn’t admit to her that he hated it when she touched him, or when anyone did. Instead, he kept insisting that “I’m germ-phobic”. It worked since he always had his pet-peeve of cleaning and organizing but, those same pet-peeves seemed too old and faint at the same time.

After all, he had spent half a night on an abandoned, dusty, over-used and dirty mattress when—no.

Those memories were long ago lost, it was safer that way for his heart. Believing it was all a dream he watched when young, he refused to recall any of it. Because when he let them affect him, there was always one to point the change on his face or mood.

“Why are you so quiet?”

“Why don’t you want to join us?”

“Are you depressed?”

“What’s wrong?”

Everything.

Everything was wrong and Minseok would often cry himself to sleep, silently because only God knew how Minah would react if she knew the man she shared a bed with during the night was so weak and hurt and broken at the same time. Maybe he didn’t deserve her at all.

But it wasn’t like it was his choice.

“You will never be happy if you marry someone you don’t love.” That was something one of his best friends had kept saying even until the night before his marriage.

But, Minseok did not believe in love. It was too faint for him to see and it was too trivial for him to explore. It was just a theory that worked on other people as he watched from afar and envied how couples would walk past him when he sat by the Han River, trying to drink away his pain on certain nights, silently wishing them the same curses as he had gone through with him.

However, he also knew that even if it would be possible to curse someone, it would not be the same. The couples he watched were normal; humans smiling and walking, eating ice-cream and whispering sweet nothings, blindly promising for the future and enjoying a night without needing to hide their faces. They were different, they were not the same; he always stayed in the dark, avoided public places, Minseok disliked sweets when he loved them. They even had different sleeping patterns and when one was awake, the other, out of stubbornness alone, would be dead tired but still, staying up for him.

Maybe they were never meant to be in the first place. There were far more differences compered to similarities and, Minseok was not going to lie to himself anymore, the end was always written in the fate of their romance. He should have been wiser and looked past everything and accepted the fact that, yeah, maybe love wasn’t meant for him to begin with.

Maybe, it was just a short period of time that he was a little obsessed with the new and the unknown.

Maybe, love wasn’t meant for him. Maybe he wasn’t meant to love.

Maybe he had just been too blind for a person with no need of whatsoever glasses.

And, probably, his life would roll back