Jessica POV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be still, heart. Please, be still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t want Yuri to be standing here in front of me. I don’t want her to be looking at me, wearing the expression that mirrors my own feelings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t want Yuri to hurt like I’m hurting. I don’t want Yuri to miss me like I’ll miss her. I don’t want Yuri to be falling for me like I’ve been falling for her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I want her to be with Taeyeon right now. I want her to want to be with Taeyeon right now, because it would make this so much easier knowing our feelings were less a reflection of each other’s and more like a one-way mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If this weren’t so hard for her, it would make it easier for me to forget her, easier to accept her choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Instead, it makes my heart hurt twice as much knowing that our good-bye is hurting her just as much as it’s hurting me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s killing me, because nothing and no one could ever fit my life the way I know she could.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I feel as though I’m willingly forking over my one chance for an exceptional life, and in return, I’m accepting a mediocre version without Yuri in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My father’s words ring in my head, and I’m beginning to wonder if he had a point after all. A life of mediocrity is a waste of a life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our eyes remain in their silent embrace for several moments, until we both break our gaze, allowing ourselves to take in every last thing about each other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her eyes scroll carefully over my face as if she’s committing me to memory. Her memory is the last place I want to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would give anything to always be in her present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lean my head against my open bedroom door and stare at her hands still gripping the doorframe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The same hands I’ll never see play a guitar again. The same hands that will never hold mine again. The same hands that will never again touch me and hold me in order to listen to me sing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The same hands that are suddenly reaching for me, wrapping themselves around me, gripping my back in an embrace so tight I don’t know if I could break away even if I tried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I’m not trying to break away. I’m reciprocating. I’m hugging her with just as much desperation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I find solace against her chest while her cheek presses against the top of my head. With each heavy, uncontrolled breath that passes through her lungs, my own breaths try to keep pace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, mine are coming in much shorter gasps, thanks to the tears that are working their way out of me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My sadness is consuming me, and I don’t even try to hold it in as I cry huge tears of grief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m crying tears over the death of something that never even had the chance to live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The death of us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuri and I remain clasped together for several minutes. So many minutes that I’m trying not to count, for fear that we’ve been standing here way too long for it to be an appropriate embrace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apparently, she notices this, too, because she slides her hands up my back and to my shoulders, then pulls away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lift my face from her shirt and wipe at my eyes before looking back up at her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once we make eye contact again, she removes her hands from my shoulders and tentatively places them on either side of my face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her eyes study mine for several moments, and the way she’s looking at me makes me hate myself, because I love it so much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love the way she’s looking at me as if I’m the only thing that matters right now. I’m the only one she sees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s the only one I see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My thoughts once again lead back to some of the lyrics she wrote.

 

 

It’s making me feel like I want to be the only person that you ever see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her gaze flickers between my mouth and my eyes, almost as if she can’t decide if she wants to kiss me, stare at me, or talk to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Sica,” she whispers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I gasp and clutch a hand to my chest. My heart just disintegrated at the sound of her voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t... speak... well,” she says with a quiet and unsure voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, my heart. Hearing her speak is almost too much to take in. Each word that meets my ears is enough to bring me to my knees, and it’s not even the sound of her voice or the quality of her speech.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s the fact that she’s choosing this moment to speak for the first time in 15 years.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She pauses before finishing what she needs to say and it gives my heart and my lungs a moment to catch up with the rest of me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She sounds exactly as I imagined she would sound after hearing her laughter so many times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her voice is slightly huskier than her laughter, but somewhat out of focus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her voice reminds me of a photograph in a way. I can understand her words, but they’re out of focus. It’s as if I’m looking at a picture and the subject is recognizable, but not in focus... similar to her words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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