White sheets. Carpeted floors. Bright room. Breathe. Look. Breathe. I’m lying on the bed, on my side, as my eyes remain on his beautiful face. Sehun’s lying on his side, next to me wearing a clean white shirt and black pajama pants. He’s got tousled dark hair and I’m completely mesmerized by him. He looks back at me as I look in his brown labyrinth-like orbs and find myself lost in them every single time. His small pink lips are stretched into a warm smile; a smile not everyone gets to witness. He keeps his hands under his cheek as I keep mine under my cheek, too. There’s no one but us and the light of the morning sun shedding light into the room. My heart thumps in an uneven pace, my lungs constricted, the butterflies are rummaging in my stomach along with that familiar fuzz. It’s cold, but just getting to see him smile like this already warms me enough. It’s just him and I, the sun and the silence. We both don’t talk. We just look. No words are heard even though there are a million things to say and one of them are I love you. I open my mouth to say it, but his eyes turn glassy with tears. He smiles at me. The tears escape his eyes and they fall on the white sheet. I feel my brows furrow upon the sight of him in tears but he’s still smiling. He’s smiling like it hurts and I want to lift my hand up and touch his face. I want to rest my palm on his cheek and let my thumb wipe over the liquid on his face. But I can’t. I can’t move. I want to but I’m frozen on my spot. Soon enough, my visions blur and hot fresh tears escape my eyes. Frustration rushes over my entire system, I want to touch him and wipe his tears away. I want him to stop crying and tell me it hurts instead of smiling like nothing’s wrong. I want him to tell me it hurts not being with me, it hurts seeing me with Jongin, it hurts replacing me, and it hurts pushing me away. I want him to tell me it hurts because it does. I know this because I’ve seen it in his eyes and I don’t want him hurting like this.

I open my eyes and immediately sit up on my bed. My chest feels heavy as I catch my breath and run my hands over my face. Just then, I feel my hands wet, my face is damp and I sniffle. I cried. I wipe my tears away and stand up to go to the bathroom. When I check myself on the mirror, my eyes are red and puffy and my nose is pink. I look like . I shake my head and tie my hair. Don’t let it bother you. Right. Of course. Seeing a man—whom I called a rock before—standing across the street with tears in his eyes should not bother me at all. Yes. Don’t let it bother me. I walk out of the bathroom and punch the light switch on. I take my sketchpad and a pen. I sit on the bed, put on my earphones and put my playlist on shuffle. I need to distract myself.

I start scribbling and let the music blast through my eardrums. My hand presses the pen heavily on the paper, splatting more ink than I should. I start drawing a portrait, scribbling in all directions possible, doing twirls and immediately starting with the nose, down to the lips, up to the eyes and the brows. I’m suddenly reminded of the disinterest in his face, how bored he looked when I first stepped into the conference room for my interview. The way he looked so sharp and intimidating when I first reported to work. He looked sick but tried to hide it. Every time he spoke, I got goose bumps because I was scared of him. I remember going to his house, going to his room and seeing him sleep like a baby comfy in bed, indulging the comforter. I remember him holding my hand the first time and it had this effect on me, like I was electrocuted. I remember almost getting fired for being at taking care of myself, him asking me to sleep on his bed while he does work. I remember waking up with his arms draped around me, his beautiful face next to me. It was so beautiful I fell on the floor. I remember being required to drink vitamin Oh. I remember him inserting my foot on a black shoe. I remember him chase me down forty floors to get me back. I remember his first good morning and thank you. I remember him cooking in my kitchen, I remember watching my favorite movie next to him, I remember him dance with me under the moonlight with an Ed Sheeran track on. I remember the flight to New Zealand. I remember sharing a hotel room with him, sleeping and waking up next to him, witnessing him smile. I remember all the times he held my hand, every hug, every kiss on the forehead. I remember him kiss me that night on the rooftop, his lips pressed on mine, the way my heart exploded inside my ribcage along with the thunder crack. And these are all happy memories. But that’s all they are—memories.

I let out a breath and scribble again on the supposed darker areas. My heart thumps fast inside my chest, I’m breathing heavily again and my vision is starting to blur. My hands are scribbling faster as I let a sob escape my lips. Memories. They’re all just memories and that’s all they’ll ever be. I immediately stop and let go of the pen as I remove my earphones. My heart won’t stop beating so fast and my tears won’t stop flowing. I can’t help but feel the frustration take over. I want to slap some sense in him. I want to yell at him. I should have done these things when we were in New Zealand. If I did, I wonder if that would change a thing. Why is it so hard for you to just admit it, Sehun?

I look at my sketchpad and notice a familiar face scribbled on it. I unconsciously scribbled his face. I let my head down and let the tears fall. Why does it hurt so much? I sob and hold my chest. Please beat normally. You’re driving me crazy. I tell my heart. My mind suddenly goes back to that night, how my world has gone in complete slow motion as he walked out, leaving me under the pouring rain, confused and heartbroken. That scene seemed so familiar. I am suddenly reminded how my world has gone in complete slow motion again when we walked out on me earlier after telling me I am not to report to him anymore. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth and a lump on my throat and a hole in my chest.

I take my phone and scroll through my contacts. I stop by his number. I have no idea what’s gotten into me, but the next thing I know I’m holding my phone against my ear, waiting for him to pick up. It takes a few rings before it stops and I don’t hear a hello, just plain breathing and this is how I know he’s there and I know he won’t talk. My mouth hangs open as I wait for myself to let out a word, but instead I let out a sob. I sniffle and sob as I hug my knees and let my head down while I keep the phone against my ears. Ask me if I’m crying, ask me why, tell me not to. I feel the frustration consume me and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

“I had a dream about you,” I manage to say and let out a soft sob, “The room was bright, the sheets are clean and white and you were smiling. It was cold, but you smiled so warmly I didn’t need a blanket anymore. You looked at me the way you did when we danced under the moonlight and I thought I was going to melt,” I chuckle but tears escaped my eyes.

He just continues to stay silent as I decide to go on, “And then your eyes started to tear up. But you were still smiling. You were smiling even when your tears had already fallen down. And it looked so painful. Seeing you even in my dreams hurt so much that I woke up in pain,” I cry and wipe my tears away. I sob and sniffled, “I tried to take you out of my head and everything that happened. But in the end I couldn’t. And now I’m calling you because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to talk to. I don’t know how to make this stop,”

He stays silent as I continue to cry. I’m so frustrated and I don’t know how to vent this out in any other way than crying. I’m so pathetic. This is so pathetic. I try to collect myself, and wipe all the tears on my damp face. His breathing runs through my ears and my heart continues to ache.

“Remember when you told me you wanted to make a movie that will hit a