Turn me back! .07.

Suga stood outside the door with red hot fury and irritation.

Despite the fact that it only took him 15 minutes to reach here by foot, what ticked him off was the fact that she hadn’t even texted him to let him know she wouldn’t make it. He even had to keep the boyfriend Sehun – his name he learnt from the bubble tea store manager who seemed rather acquainted with the fellow – occupied for an awfully long time waiting for the girl to appear which was; safe to say; the equivalent of shopping with Hoseok.

Tiresome, tiresome, and the most despicable of all, tiresome. It was the one thing he absolutely couldn’t stand. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d survive without sleep. He wasn’t sure he could preserve his sanity without it.

Not to mention the place Sehun had taken him to was practically teeming with people! He lost count of how many times he had to excuse himself from the store as they waited in line to simply breathe. Ah, and how he dreaded returning! He could have strangled Sehun for his concerned string of questions every time he pretty much laid eyes on him.

One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. The song was so fitting that he couldn’t help but indulge at how clearly it played in his mind. Three, four, better lock your door.

Eventually with her lengthy absence, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. To visit his apartment and if need be, bust the door down to catch the culprit in his body and… well… do whatever it was to reclaim his life. He didn’t even know if she was there, but it was his best bet.

He keyed in the pin to his apartment security lock and the door clicked open. Even though he knew exactly what to expect – which was himself of course – he felt an eerie dread as he pushed open the heavy door. Slowly, he craned his neck into the apartment, however the closed curtains made it difficult for him to really see anything at all.

He stepped in cautiously, closed the door behind him, and stood for a moment at the foot of the living room to allow his eyes to adjust. His apartment was a safe haven… or at least that was what it was before she left. He remembered the nights with dreadful accuracy. How he would return in the evenings and she’d wake up just to greet him; her warm hands as they lay together without even bothering to change and they shared sleep.

Even the interior reflected all the things they enjoyed together: pure white walls, pure white furniture accented with just the driest hues of brown in certain places. Our favourite colour was white.

‘I’m coming in,’ he announced quietly on approaching the bedroom door, and gripped the handle.

Even though he was in the most familiar place so far since this morning, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly on edge. He was terrified of the number of things he could possibly walk into, but steeled himself and twisted the handle.

A small part of him expected her to be there. He knew it was impossible. He knew it was a childish hopefulness he ought to have discarded a long time ago, and yet he still clung to the possibility as he pushed open the bedroom door and stood under the doorframe.

The room was pitch black. He reached hesitantly for the light switch beside him and the white beams overhead came to life. His eyes travelled carefully from the scattered articles of clothing he remembered from the previous afternoon before leaving haphazardly for the theatre, to a backpack that was seemingly tossed over the bed, to a large covered lump under the bed sheets.

His breath hitched in his throat at the possibility of her being there. He could imagine lifting the sheets; seeing her smile coyly on awakening, and smiling back at her after apologizing for his clatter on entering… however he quickly steeled himself. Those days were over.

And yet why do I have such a hard time accepting that?

He reached for the bedsheets mercilessly, and yanked it away in one swift movement. Of course it wasn’t what he secretly expected, but instead, it was his own body. It was him. Curled into an incredibly stiff fetal position; eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed. The weak expression on his face was so unsightly that he cringed with disgust. Somehow the image was like a mirror into the past few days, weeks, months tha