Dahyun's POV

I'm not angry at her. I haven't completely forgiven her and I may never forget but -god- i'm so not angry at her. I love her, I really do. That's why I'm here in my old room which is now completely stripped of everything that made it mine, here in Michigan.

"Dahyun, there's money on the counter. Get some pizza or something, I'll be back tomorrow" my mother tells me through the wooden door.

"Yeah, ok" I reply monotonously. I lay my head back on the pillow and close my eyes as I place my headphones over my ears. The music removing all outside noise but failing to consume the thoughts, it's only been five days since I left JYP. My dad was hesitant but he knew I needed out and so I am. I'm out of college. The catch? I'm enrolled for MSU next year, next year, no stupid music groups, no friends, in and out of classes, no parties, and no breathtaking Squirrel. These are the rules my dad gave me, ok well maybe the latter was a personal choice.

It's hard to adjust from being in a place where there are people who genuinely care about you, to a place where they are obligated to. Not even a week in and I miss the strangest thing. I miss the air in JYP. It's filled with a weird excitable energy of people being genuine and here? God, we're all just tiptoeing around each other. I even miss SinB and her scary death glare.

I miss EunWoo. I miss singing and dancing like an idiot. I miss Jeongyeon's inappropriate jokes. I miss Jiwon's stories. I miss Nayeon's serious looks and it's terrifying me how much I miss Sana.

Just thinking of her, just hearing her name, thinking it... my stomach plummets and my heart feels crazy. Eloquent, I know.

I drift off to sleep. The thought of food not even remotely interesting me. I just want to not be awake right now.


The Next Day

"Hey, Grandma," I greet quietly as I sit down in front of the headstone. I lean the bouquet of sunflowers I bought against the smooth marble.

My eyes reread her name over and over as they begin to water. I wipe them away immediately thinking that I wouldn't feel so hopeless if she was here still.

"You'd know what to say," I whimper as I drop my head into my hands. I will let the tears not to make an appearance but ultimately failing.

In a nasally voice and with reoccurring sniffles I mutter, "I'm sorry I haven't visited," I shake my head in shame as I look at the piece of carved stone in front of me, "this is silly. I don't know why I do this. I mean it's not like you can hear me."

The sound of birds and rustling leaves blowing in the cold breeze distract me momentarily. I then remember that my grandma once told me that I was to come to her with everything. From my biggest problems to as simple conversation about the weather.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Grandma," I say as my eyes wander around the scenery while talk, "you know me, I'm not normally like this. I can't ever be serious. When I'm hurt, I make jokes. When I'm angry, I make jokes, but not with her..." I stare blankly as I remember my reactions to what happened, "she just makes me feel way too much. I have become over dramatic and way too emotional. I have never cared so much and I don't know what to do."

I sigh and exhale loudly before running my fingers through my messy hair, "you'd probably ask me what it is about her that I can't find anywhere else then you'd probably say that I deserve better but... I don't think there is a better... I mean, maybe there is but I am scared out of my mind that I won't love anyone as much as I love her," I groan exasperatedly, my hands gesturing wildly for a moment, "and I don't even know why! I can't list why she's specia-"

I stop myself before I finish the word, "Alright that sounded rude because she is special. She's incredibly special. She's really cool but there are a lot of cool people out there, right? Ok, so what I am trying to say is that I can't explain why it's her," my head drops in to my hands, elbows leaning on my knees.

"Love is crazy," I mumble lowly, "I love that she's perky and determined... but how many people are perky and determined? A lot," I itch the back of my neck habitually, "but it's Sana. I like Sana because she's Sana. Does this make sense?"

Obviously no reply.

"Do you think that some people are just meant to be together?" I tilt my head and consider this myself, I ponder aloud, "It's Sana, I mean Grandma... it's Sana." I shake my head because far out this is hard to explain, "it's Sana. It's no