Moondust Chapter 8

Song for this chapter// Dear Moon by Jehwi

“I try to turn away and run

But you’re like the moon that follows me.”

BoGum~

"I needed you. I needed you but you weren't there!" I shouted hysterically with my chest heaving and my breathing erratic. I let go of YooJung and buried my tear-streaked face in my hands. For the past three years, I wanted to forgive YooJung but whenever I thought of her I couldn’t help but get so angry.

The friendship between Sungjae, SoHyun, YooJung, and I was the bond that held me together after losing my mom and having to deal with a depressed dad. They were my everything and I would have done anything for them. But after YooJung left, the devastation submerged me. 

“I never thought you would leave me...” I uttered softly from quivering lips. YooJung leaving hurt so much because it was something I never expected. I never expected for her to break the trust between us. 

“The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have stayed, but I had to leave. There was no other option.” YooJung explained, gasping from all the sobbing. My own tears blurried my vision and I could only roughly percieve YooJung’s red-rimmed eyes and thick tears. 

“I wish everything went back to the way it used to be.” I struggled to breathe. It felt like my chest collapsed and punctured my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. My heart physically hurt and all the crying made my head spin. This is the way I should have reacted three years ago, but instead I simply shut down then. The tears I didn’t cry three years were now being spent to the point I felt like dying. 

However remaining grief and sadness were no excuse. Assignments and projects were piling up along with the bills that I needed to pay. Being an orphan in this world, I couldn’t afford another day off. 

“BoGum ah, hurry up and get started on the dish!” The manager shouted from the kitchen when he saw me locking my bike outside by the light pole. 

“Yes sir!” I replied, rushing inside and tying the apron around my torso. With a drizzle of oil, flames engulfed the pan and I began cooking. This was the only time where I was able to empty my mind of everything. Here, I was solely focused on preparing the dishes with the right ingredients and seasonings. Maybe that’s why my mom loved to cook. 

I didn’t know this when I was younger, but my mom would have lost her sense of taste due to the chemo and radiation treatments but she continued to cook and perfect her book of recipes. Although she couldn’t even taste the food she was cooking, maybe she enjoyed it because it took her mind off her deteriorating health and numbered days. 

My hands and wrists were red due to the constant exposure to the heat from cooking and the long hours standing in the kitchen wore me out. Cooking and food never really interested me before. However after my mom’s passing, I realized that through cooking I could feel closer to her. Cooking became a reminder of my mom. 

“I ordered a medium rare steak and this looks completely burnt. Don’t you agree? This is unacceptable. It’s not like I’m paying for fast food. Take this away.” An older female customer pushed the plate of steak away from her. 

“I’m very sorry about that. I’ll prepare a new one for you right away. I’m sorry, Ma’am.” I bowed my head and took the plate off the table and rushed back into the kitchen. Sighing, I slid the meat into the trash and hurried to the stove to sear a new piece of meat. Keeping an eye on the meat, I felt a hand on my shoulder. The grip wasn’t comforting or casual, but forceful. I whipped around to come face to face with the loan shark… again. Before I could blink, my back hit the bottom of the stove and I was on the ground of the kitchen floor with the loan shark smirking over me.   

“Now, listen up. Tell your girlfriend that she better pay up in full next time or else I’ll burn her boyfriend’s face and not his hand the second time.” He hissed, pouring the hot oil from the pan onto my hand. The vein in my temple almost burst as I held back my screams and cradled my burnt hand. My coworkers rushed toward my aid, but I kept glaring in the man’s direction. 

“It’s unfortunate about your hand, but it will heal in time. Today’s complaint wasn’t the first and this is a high end restaurant with fastidious customers. I have no choice but to let you go. This is your pay.” My boss handed me the envelope of my month’s wages and closed the kitchen door on me. 

I trudged bac