A one-shot in reference to the Six Degrees of Separation prompt in KFics Anthology Contest (Wattpad)

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The first thing Chaeyoung does after waking up is reach out for the space beside her, only for her to realize it's just that — an empty space. She turns on the bed to see it for herself, half-hoping he's still there, dodging her touch because he feels like messing around. Junhoe always has. But the empty sheets is still left empty.

It's funny, she realizes, she has the bed all for herself yet she chooses to sleep on one side. Maybe she's still hoping for the door to creep open at night, and after a tiring day of work, he'll slide beside her and wrap his arms around her, like he always has.

Junhoe's never coming back, the rational side of her argues.

No, she argues back. He'll come back. I know for sure. He always has.

The skin around her eyes feels the sting once the tears appear but the grip in her chest tears her down more. She doesn't know if it's because of the traces of his scent or that deep inside her heart, she knows he'll not come back, no matter how many tears she sheds.

Chaeyoung reaches out for his pillow and hugs it tight. His scent grows stronger and the thought that she'll never ever smell it anymore keeps her sight more blurry. He always smells like cinnamon and vanilla. Even if he doesn't look like so, he loves everything sweet. He's also like that with her too.

Was.

The air around her makes it hard for her to breathe. It's harmless, that she knows, but why does she feel like inhaling nails down ?

She shuts her eyes tight, hoping it'll help make the pain stop, but it doesn't. The memories visit like unwelcome guests, happy moments they shared together, even the times they'd bicker over the stupidest things, and right now, she'd do everything to bring those back.

It's stupid. Chaeyoung is in a space she can call her own home but with him gone, the home doesn't feel like home until he's here beside her. It's such a stupid thing to make someone make her complete because the moment he's gone, she feels a missing part of her ripped out.

[Junhoe is, and always has, her better half.]

They say that when you have perfection in your hands you don't want to settle for second best. They didn't say that once it's gone it's like bungee jumping on a cliff without the safety ropes.

Everything was perfect. At least she thought it was.

'Let's stop this. I don't love you anymore,' like what kind of a stupid reason is that?

[People always fall out of love, even when it feels like everything is set in motion, when even the stars and heaven agrees, because out of all the things you can control, feelings aren't one of them.]

Still, Chaeyoung is left wondering what happened wrong. She knew she did everything right, even among the countless fights, they always made up, because they both knew the love they shared is stronger for conflict to ruin them.

Sitting upright on the bed still clutching his pillow, she reaches out for her phone. Occasional sniffs escapes , the only noise in the deafening silence on the apartment. With a swipe of her finger, she unlocks the phone and like a pattern her fingers already memorized, she goes through his account.

Chaeyoung wonders if Junhoe's also in pain, battered in pieces, like he did to her. Then she stops that thought. How can one who provides pain experience the same thing?

The tears stall, realizing this. He's heartless. He's the one who left. Why would he feel miserable? If anything, he's happy. The bind she sets him in is unraveled and he's free. Maybe he's having as much fun like any guys in his age, maybe even found the time to visit questionable places doing unspeakable things with someone he'll probably not remember the next day.

And when Chaeyoung scrolls in his news feed, it confirms everything she fears, like a mocking piece coming to laugh at her. She knows she shouldn't have because it's like pouring salt on her wounds. What can she do? She missed him so bad. The bad news is, he doesn't. It's in the form of a beautiful woman hanging on his arms, both sharing smiles with looks of love exchanged with another.

He's too preoccupied with someone to miss her.

"No..." she whispers, her grip on the phone getting tighter. "He can't – No, he isn't—"

Fresh tears pour down her eyes when realization hits her hard.

[He's happy. She's not. She's miserable. He's not.]

Chaeyoung throws the phone in a nearby wall, then the pillow after. She curls into a ball in the bed and let the tears speak for the pain she feels in her heart.

All this time, she's wishing he'll take everything back but here he is, replacing her in the form of another woman with a snap of a finger. It's always his defining characteristic, bouncing back to a problem without a trace it ever affected him in the first place.

Sobs escape her lips, until it becomes unbearable that she's crying out loud, speaking in words no one can understand because everything hurts more than she expects it'll hurt.

It's grinding down her flesh and bones, robbing her of the air that should go in . No words and metaphors can describe the mess she feels. Explaining pain is as simple and complex as that.

Maybe she didn't do everything right after all. Maybe she didn't show she loves him enough. Maybe he feels suffocated so he had to let her go. Maybe it's the way she always seeks out for his warmth. Maybe it's the little quirks she has that he hates that it's too unbearable for him, enough to leave her. Maybe she's the one at fault after all.

Chaeyoung rises from the bed, deciding it's not good to stay in a place with his scent, and sits on the carpeted floor. She remembers he loved lying on the floor with her beside him, looking at the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars they stuck there. Now she's wondering when will she ever find the strength to remove them piece by piece.

[Maybe later, maybe even never.]

Chaeyoung pulls a box under the bed. It's full of memories they shared, in the form of pictures and mementos the two will only understand. Her friends tell her to give it back to him or better yet, burn it, but she still doesn't have the heart to do so.

She picks up the ticket he bought for a dance night on a ballroom downtown. He'll always take her dancing even if she thinks it's stupid. She doesn't, deep inside. She loves how he'd always ask her to dance, loves how he'll whisper the lyrics in her ear, loves the warmth of his hands on her, and loves how it gives them a chance to be closer together.

She goes to pick another one; a small teddy bear she forced him to win for her at the arcades. She remembers how he rolled his eyes at her cute plea, but then knew he was caving in. She also remembered how smug he was when he got the teddy bear. It was one of his annoying but endearing traits, of how he acted boastful about the good things in his life. But he's always like that and she wouldn't have him any less.

There's the purple sweater she borrowed from him. Without thinking much, she picks it up, unraveling it from its neat fold, and wears it on top of her shirt. She loves wearing his clothes because they always have his smell and the sense of security it provides, like he's hugging her even with the absence of him.

"I told you," he said one time she pointed this out. "If you want my hugs, just ask for it and I'll give you one."

"But I like your clothes more."

Junhoe reached out to haul her in his arms. "Don't be like that or I'll get jealous you like my clothes more than me."

She'd giggle and return his hug, deciding that indeed, the real one was much better.

It's incredible how memories can wake up emotions she thought weren't there anymore. It urges her to smile, despite the tears streaming down her face. Chaeyoung keeps her legs close to her chest and hugs herself tight. Maybe this time she'll let his scent engulf her once more, for one last time.

Next time, she promises, she'll burn everything that was once his, even his pillow, the sheets they shared, just to forget about him.

[How can you remember something if there's no trace left for you?]

But for today, she indulges herself to the miserable her. She reaches out for her broken phone, screen cracked but still functioning and dials a number she knows from memory.

"Junhoe... I'm sorry about this but I... I miss you."

"Sorry. Wrong number."

Chaeyoung chokes back a sob. She recognizes Junhoe's voice everywhere yet here he is, denying that she once existed in his life.

She keeps the phone off her ear. With her thumb hovering above the red button, she has every intent to end the call. But before it ends, she hears it, albeit faint, like the smell of vanilla on her skin.

"Me too."

end.