"Expectation is the root of all heartbreak."

-William Shakespeare

-Π-

It was hard to pinpoint the catalyst that had signalled the beginning of the end (Or was it the end of the beginning?) of their relationship. Almost certainly, it wasn't just one single event that caused everything else to spin out of control nor was it a decision that was made at the tip of a hat or the snap of a finger. 

No. It was every small thing that eventually cunlimated into something terrifyingly beautiful, something so explosive and catastrophic that you couldn't help but take notice of it. 

Chances were given, promises were broken and trust trickled away like the tinkling waters of an undisturbed Brook on an early spring morning when the world had yet to awaken. 

Maybe, in the future they would regret the spectacle that they'd created of the whole affair or maybe they would use it as leverage along with spiteful words and cutting glares, intended to drag the other to their lowest point so that maybe, maybe they would feel the pain and suffering that had torn at their own heart since that night. 

It was easy to turn their heads and pretend as though nothing had ever existed between them, not even the simple bonds of acquaintances that could be broken by a few months of separation and a purposeful lack on communication. 

But something had existed. Something new that neither could put into words for fear of making it into less than it was. Something exhilarating and beautiful that made everyday seem like an adventure, that gave them the motivation to push all the bad things asked and face each new day with a smile. Everyday was a new "Maybe".

Maybe we'll get ice-cream. Maybe we'll meet someone new or maybe we'll lie on our backs in the grass and try to find non-existant shapes in the ever shifting clouds. Maybe we'll get lost in each others eyes and never make it back. 

Maybe it'll last forever. 

But the maybes turned sour, like with every good thing that one manages to grab hold of.

Maybe I'll have time for you today. Maybe we should stop this. Maybe we're too young to understand and Maybe what we're doing is just playing a game to pass the time. Maybe it wasn't love, but a distraction to shroud themselves in so that they could forget all the bad things (there were a lot of bad things).

-Π-

"We aren't going to the same school but we'll still talk everyday right? 'This' will still be special?"

Long, dark hair fell over her eyes so it was impossible to tell what she wanted as an answer. Usually, Yoojung would read the expectation in her eyes and answ