Time Will Tell To My Love

Dust particles danced in fine wisps as the breeze met the curtains, ruffling the soft material in rippling curls just enough to let in a streamlet of moonlight, and reveal the figure who laid misplaced on the apartment floor. The sky was clouded and a storm looked on its way, the television barely audible in the room as the images continued to play through, and the area succumbed to silence save the large clock hanging above him. Each hand on the device seemed to move with triumphant yet little effort, a ticking time bomb in his wake, destructive in its nature, and at the same time, nothing more but mere marks of wasted moments. He didn’t bother turning his head to glance at the time.

How much longer did he have to wait?

Another hour?

Two maybe?

All was nothing compared to the last seven years he had been waiting for her.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.

That was when a piercing sound rang through the apartment from the slip behind the wall, exploiting the emptiness as he sat. His back was leaning against the leg of the sole table in the kitchen, though he was certain that that wasn't the only source of his discomfort. Mind wandering into the small hours of the night, the noise rendered into a shattering nuisance, then a deep thought, and then a scar; a telephone call he knew that had not been for him. It could not have possibly been from her.

'I love him', she had told him.

He fiddled with the engagement ring that he planned on giving her on their umpteenth year anniversary as best friends earlier that year, and as he wallowed in his shadowy grave, he twirled it around his fingers, once, twice, admiring how beautiful it would have looked on her if he had gotten the chance to give it. Every curve on the refined metal reminded him of the generous smile she showcased whenever he was with her, and every corner left empty but a reflected glint reminded him of the sparkle in her eyes whenever she looked at him. No one had thoughts or a voice more tender to match hers, to the extent that if angels really did exist on Earth, he would have believed it if they had told him she was its bodily form.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah..."

Her scent lingered on his clothing, which never left, but she was not there.

If only she realised how much more he loved her.

And still loved her.

He stole eventually a lifeless glance at the clock ticking away on the plastered wall, and wondered what she was doing now. With him. Her significant other who was not he himself. His heart scrunched up in pain and envy as he conjured up what would have been to her the flawless jaw line to his face, which accentuated almost unrealistically his masculine features. It made sense why she chose him over him, but at the same time, it didn’t make sense.

He didn't even love her that way.

He knew she was going to get hurt, but he sent her off that night all the same. He could only wait his turn. If he hadn’t, she would have thought otherwise of him. She would have been disappointed knowing all the lies her best friend had been keeping from her for the past seven years. He didn't want that. He didn’t want to be demanding, heartless, selfish. He wanted to be the best friend no one could ever replace, who was always there for her, supporting her regardless of her decisions, even if it had meant that he would be secured in second place forever.

Even if he suffered.

"Take her if you want," he said. "She's too clingy."

But he insisted. He wanted her to learn, to realise it on her own, without him breaking it to her that the boy she loved was actually cheating on her for a sophomore in his class. He tried warning her a few times, but he could never say it. He let her go, because sooner or later, she would have to accept the reality, however dreadful it may be. He let her go, because, ironically, he didn't want to lose her. It was selfish, but it was the only way. Only she could free herself from his spell. And maybe, just maybe, that way, she would at long last realise his existence by her side, how precious he was, had been, and always will be.

That no one loved her more than he did.

That he was the only one for her.

All his friends worked it out, so why couldn't she?

Nevertheless, time reeled forward and the clock continued relentlessly.

Time.

Yes, that was what they needed.

They were almost there.

This stinging in his heart was going to be over very soon.

Flashes of memories continued to blind him in the sullen atmosphere, when suddenly he heard a trailing of footsteps plodding against the landing to the door, and then on the floorboards of the apartment threshold. Quite unconvinced, he didn’t make any attempt to get up from the ground. Darkness continued to swallow everything, and when she flicked the lights on and appeared at the door, he almost didn’t lift his head up to see the person who had just stepped inside.

There she was, as real as ever, with eyes drenched from tears and clothing tattered by the wind and rain, such deadly elements, in the cruel embrace of the night down the streets they used to walk together. A feeling he saw coming from the beginning, a feeling that hit too closely to home. Placing the ring back into his back jeans pocket before jolting up, he tripped his way over to the fragile figure in the dimly lit space in front of him. The soles of his shoes tapped drearily against the tiled floor, and suddenly he could feel his heart beating faster than ever before. Was she here because she had finally gotten her dose of spiteful reality, and given up on him?

Suddenly, he felt hopeful.

Hopeful that he could now find an excuse to settle himself into her heart.

But he didn’t ask, because nothing mattered more to him at the moment than seeing her peacefully back in his company. Even if it meant another seven years, this was the moment he had been waiting for. He was so afraid that she wasn't ever going to come back. It had only been an afternoon since the last time he saw her, but already he missed her so much.

So much that it would only be unfair if she didn't know.

"Yeol..."

So love is blind.

Watching as the tears cascaded down her face, he wasn’t sure how to comfort her. Or rather, he was afraid to, but when he saw her in such a pitiful state, he knew only one thing–hugs always worked. Opening his arms, he made his torso free, into which she stepped willingly and unhesitant, and that was when he knew–that his chance had finally, really, come, that it was finally time to play the healing game, where he would gradually move into her heart and liberate her from her melancholy once and for eternity.

She needn't tell him the story; he already knew.

"It's going to be okay. I'm here now."

She sobbed droplets now, greater droplets than the rain pelting against the apartment rooftop that night, and he didn’t mind as they tainted the collars of his shirt. He wanted to cry with her but convinced himself that technically it was not himself to blame that she was crying like this.

As long as she was by his side.

As long as she had chosen to come back, no longer his.

She deserved better anyway.

He patted her back in the open doorway gently, like he was lulling a child to sleep, and didn't stop until she had fallen asleep to the tears in his arms. He didn't let go and made sure she got used to his warmth. His worldly embraces were something she was going to be experiencing a lot more often after this night. For as long as he could remember, he had always been her second choice. This time, he wanted to be her first. Hugging her tighter, he wanted her to need him in her life; not as a best friend, but as someone more, just like how he needed her in his.

He was her serendipity.

She just needed to realise it.

Only then would he be able to start living again.

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a/n: too angsty for your liking? ;A; lol I'll write more fluffy ones soon, I promise! /gets excited by herself