The fragments that made up the imminent face of my reality tears itself to tinier shreds even before I had the time to realize it. The words float around in my head as my hands clench though in quiet prayer that what has been said is not at all true. "Dead?" was the only word that came from my lips, trembling and unsteady. My voice was barely above a gentle whisper as the room grew silent, all eyes—all ears diverted and attentive which fuels the fire residing within me. It angers me how they learned to love tragedy. So I walked.

I walked.

Then I ran.

And I didn't stop.

All the shouts that called for my name grew distant and dark and hollow like it's all coming from the other end of a tunnel to nowhere. I wanted the tears to flow and the sobs to wrack my body but I found myself devoid of emotions. There was loathing and regret capturing my veins in enormous waves of resounding confusion just flowing through the invisible lines that connect me to everything else. The moment I saw that letter on the kitchen counter, I knew that the consequences of being able to tell the truth will come to chase after me like freight trains fueled and swift.

By the time I got outside of the building, more cameras come flashing at my face. My heels were abandoned somewhere and my hands are still shaking. Anxiety builds and my breath grows shorter with each passing second. I look from left to right, drowning in the shouting, the clicking and the palpitating vein that grows to nearly burst within the side of my neck. "Why are all of you like this?" It came out in a whisper as I eye each person behind the blinding flashes, Bo Gum's face being all that occupies every corner of my brain.

Sure, I didn't love him. But somewhere along the timeline of what has become of my life, he made me happy.

"Sung Kyung!" Joo Hyuk's voice cuts through the deafening silence that's slowly driving me along the edges of insanity. I could've ran faster. I could've gone farther. But I didn't. Because for some reason, his voice made my feet cold and frozen—glued to the ground. "Sung Kyung," he calls again, nearing, stretching his arms out like wings ready to shield me from whatever might've attempted to hurt me—and he did. All thoughts flew and I was left in the void. How is this supposed to feel like? Do I even remember? "Come back to me," he whispers once more.

For weeks, I have missed this man, pined for him at every turn. Yet after everything he hid from me, I'm not so sure. Have I ever been sure at all? Though when he pulled away and looked at me with eyes that exhibit sadness and regret, eyes that are telling me that we've gone through every hurdle and we'll get through this one all the same, I knew that he hid thin