Part 6: New Resentment

Some say that love is a crazy thing, is like a non-sense riddle, beautiful but ridiculous at the same time, it’s certainly there but most of the time it’s too unexplainable. Speaking out of books and its theory, strong believers prefer to describe the feeling as an important element of human life, like bringing joy, delighting sadness, stirring someone onto a better life and sort of thing, they like to associate it to the good side of life. However, speaking of minority, there is also some who believe that it’s sometimes forbidden.

Like this one; the way she stood silently in front of his house, for how long only God knew, could simply explain why Jung Eunji shouldn’t fall in love for Kwon Jiyong. The door didn’t change, to her note, still in plain dark brown which matched the color of its outdoor wall. Nothing special, just like all the doors in this apartment building. But then, even though she could easily recall every single detail of this door, she always had herself more than a couple of minutes to study the object. She gained nothing new, but perhaps it wasn’t something new what she’s always looking for, it’s more like a strong something that could stop her from doing anything to the door. And just like every single time, she’s in legit failure when her hand unlocked it.

She should be wondering, like us, why she’s back here, walking in, inviting herself to a property that certainly not belong to her. Of course, it’s illegal, and to make it even worse, she did it often to no one’s awareness.

Love is blind, some believe, and to their win, a lot of studies prove it right. We can find everywhere that can explain why someone cannot be in their right mind when they are in love.  However though, in which theoretically it can be explained, not all people can easily accept it. Because, talking a fact, like what Jung Eunji was doing right now, no one could explain why, how, even what was it and neither can accept it, not even her.

When she’s inside his house, her whole body was like in its own control. As if in some kind of auto-pilot mode machine, she would automatically bring herself to his chamber, skipping the wide living room, not even glancing at his open kitchen, and then she would close her eyes when darkness of his room greeted her. She would breathe in, wishing his masculin scent lingered and visited her lung just like how her memory recalled. Obviously she never won it, everyone knew how long he’d left the house, there wasn’t a single chance that the scent remained, unless the house had some kind of technology that could do such thing like crystallizing it and locking it here. But, it’s like a different routine today, it was there, greeting her lung for the first time after so long.

It felt nice, the presence of the scent, of his scent, like a long lost friend, coming with warmth and an old story. She walked slowly towards his bed where its fragnance felt stronger. Strange, it shouldn’t suppose to be. But to her dysfuncsional brain, she slid the question away and let herself fall onto the soft mattress.

Breathing in and out, steady and remained. And it felt increadible, she’s lost.

Her right hand crawled, feeling the delicate fabric of his sheet very carefully as if she could hurt it. She missed it, his scent, and mostly, everything about him.

Wearing his shirt, his jacket, his tee was always her favorite, just because of her silly addiction of his scent. She never asked, what parfume he had, how expensive it was, and how often he wore it, one thing she needed was only it stayed, fulfilling her need.

But maybe it wasn’t all about his scent, which she craved so bad, which brought her tears returned. If she’s willing to be honest, it’s the thought, the idea, the evidence of his presence which she needed the most. But she ditched it, at least for now.

Her tears fell just when she turned her body to the side, facing the empty part of the bed. As always, the picture of him lying there, quietly, looking at her in eye with a thin flattering smile, came.  He was again in jet-black hair. She told him once, with visible flush on her cheeks, how much she loved him in black hair and messy bang, and he laughed, loosened and flattered. Jiyong told her back, back then, that his favorite was also hers in plain black. She wouldn’t admit it, but it was mainly the reason why she kept her hair black when she wasn’t doing any promotion, like this time. She loved how ordinary G-Dragon could look like in that shape, and to her win, he just loved her the same way.

“Why you’re here again?” blinking, the imaginary him asked.

His voice sounded so real, ringing softly inside her head, awakening her memory. And looking at her right now, Jung Eunji seemed quite disappointed with herself of how easy she could imagine him speaking, as if she could retell every single detail of how he would sound. It wasn’t surprising actually, but part of her believed it could easily prove how miserable she was in front of him.

“I hate you,” she muttered quietly as her tears fell again. Between blaming her weak composure and craving for him even more. She saw him lifting his right hand, quietly offering his tender on her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered closed, ready to feel his hand. But it wasn’t there, her cheeks remained cold and wet.

“I hate you so much,” she repeated, more to exclaim how disappointed she was. When she opened her eyes, she found him smiling sadly. And it broke her heart.

“Then why you come, hum?”

“I don’t know,” her eyes were locked in his sight, “I don’t know,” she repeated. Her voice was shaken, wishing she never heard the question. The answer should be there, easy and bare, but it never reached , tied tight somewhere in her subconscious. “Can you tell me instead?”

His smile grew thinner after hearing her pleading favor. Today he looked sadder, his eyes shimmering in tears too.

 “Eunji-ya, you should stop.” he then spoke, softly but painfully.

Looking at him in the eye, she couldn’t deny how his presence mattered in her life. It’s painful to admit it. She was undoubtedly hurt, but it seemed that being stupid and blind was just her, it what made her coming back and forth, seeking for him. But still, there was a big part of her who strongly hated him, blamed him for putting her into this helpless person. She never dreamt to be like this, to be treated like this.

Of course it should be stopped, it started making no sense, and every time she made her leave, back to her composed state, she would scold herself badly for whatever she did inside this house. There was always a payoff for this and she never forgave herself easily.

Today’s  payoff seemed bigger than usual though.

Her consciousness hadn’t fully returned when she heard a sound of unlocking door. Her eyes fluttered, not sure whether what she heard was real or just another dream of hers. She quickly remembered it was Sunday, and Sunday was a day off for his helper, no one could enter the house.

Unless him.

Her eyes opened up for the late realization. Eunji immediately dragged herself to wake up. Headache suddenly hit her hard. No, it couldn’t be. There was no way he was here. He shouldn’t be here. No. He had left and no one knew where he was. He ran away and ditched everyone, ditched her too. He shouldn’t be here so suddenly. No. Not when she was here.

But it’s too late. She had no plan and it seemed that her auto-pilot self still had a control of her body. Her hand opened the chamber’s door already, revealing the presence of him for her.

It’s stupid, but she could feel butterflies inside her stomach, which she counted as an embarrassing mockery. What could she do though, just like what she imagined a couple of hours ago, he was in jet-blac