⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕

He saw her. He’d been in the sixth-floor suite when Namjoo came to the office. He’d been packing for a business trip then watched from balcony as she walked out with shoulders drooping, head hanging low. Imagining the desperation that had driven her back here to look for him.

But he wasn’t ready yet.

The exact way he saw the phone calls, but could never pick up. Afraid to send himself into another whirlpool of emotions. He would suffocate them in his world of feelings. Using her to seek a high and relief from his downtrodden world that followed him like mud tracks.

Sehun didn’t want to use Namjoo as a route to escape. He wanted to find a solace before he went back to her, and if Namjoo was still waiting for him he’d go to her with open arms and a love without lies, without excuses.

But it looked like the damage had been done to both of them as he watched Namjoo cry in front of him.

The upbeat life in her shriveled down to a thin river that stopped flowing. The sadness surged through him. Sehun wanted to hug her, but feared a single touch would ignite everything reckless he had told himself not to do.

He wanted to be a better person. Without dredging continuously on a hindering past. Live in the here and now and look eagerly into the future, because he had never sought the future. Isn’t that why he’d released her from his prison? But looking at Namjoo’s sunken form made him regret every decision he had made from the very beginning.

Wanting, needing her.

Noticing the crowd pausing to watch curiously, Sehun shrugged his jacket off. Handing it to Namjoo he said, “Put it on. I’ll buy you something to drink.”

He waited for Namjoo to calm before turning to head down the sidewalk. Once the light hit red and traffic stopped, they crossed the street toward a golden lit café on the other side. Namjoo was wiping her nose with a tissue she’d found in her purse when they arrived.

The tiny building was no more occupied than the gallery next door. Very few customers milled around thanks to the festival.

“What would you like?” Sehun asked at the counter. A glance behind him and Namjoo shook her head, her nose now a shade of bright red from the crying. Returning to the cashier he ordered two cups of green tea.

The wooden booths were a shade between yellow and brown. The light bounced off the glossy sheen of the tabletop when they settled at the seat nearest the door. Only a man occupied the booth at the far side. Sitting nearest the counter with black rimmed glasses he appeared absorbed in a comic book. He didn’t even notice them.

The cashier dropped off their drinks from a brown tray then shuffled lazily to the counter. No one else arrived leaving them in a bubble of privacy. Minus the customer ignoring the assumed couple.

“Drink this,” Sehun pushed the deep oval mug toward her. “It’ll wear out the buzz.”

Her eyes were rimmed with red as she cupped the mug between her small hands. “How’d you know I was drinking?”

“You’re not walking straight.” Sehun pointed out.

Admitting to it Namjoo silently lifted the ceramic to her lips and took a cautious sip. For a minute she said nothing after setting it back down. A faint steam curled upwards and trickled into nothingness.

Namjoo didn’t meet his eyes but brushed a finger against the side of the mug when she asked, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well.”

“I’m jealous.” She quietly said. “I have to travel a mountain just to discover another, but it seems so easy for you.”

“It’s not,” he said, “easy.”

“I thought we were doing well.” Namjoo somberly said, her voice heavy with remorse. “I had no idea you were still struggling. I’m sorry for not seeing it.”

“I said before, don’t be sorry. It’s me, not you.”

“I still feel like I could’ve done better.”

“You being there was everything I ever needed.” Sehun watched a tear slip from her eye. Namjoo quickly brushed it off.

“See?” Namjoo’s voice cracked. “It’s not easy.”

“Have you eaten?” he worried.

When she didn’t answer he got up to order a club sandwich for her. Namjoo sullenly forced it into when he returned to the table. Big tears clung to her eyes but never dripped. The two of them sat quietly like two strangers forced to share a table. He imagined the whole world revolving around them in fast blurs of colors. Everyone bustling and skittering, but a dank cloud hung over just them. Caging them inside a desolate sphere cruelly. Then Namjoo took another sip of her tea. Sehun patiently waited until she drained the entire cup and dropped her hands on her lap.

By now she’d stopped sniffing. Her entire form hunched across from him, like the weight of the universe sat on her tiny shoulders. That was a quarter of his emotional baggage.

Sehun assumed the buzz must be wearing off and now exhaustion was beginning to soak into her veins. Namjoo would have a harder time tomorrow, but the days would still come and go as it did for him. One small mountain at a time. Climbing higher and further up the steep, rocky ledges until eventually she would have reached the top without noticing. Looking back down into the hovering clouds, the tiny world below she’d see the changing seasons and before it dawned, the new year was here and she was on another mountain.

Namjoo would continue to grow as the earth aged and she would move up the ladder into her career. Maybe then she would have found the strength to keep pushing forward without regrets dragging her.

One day his own regrets would stop pursuing him, too.

“I feel better now.” Namjoo said. “Do you want to go?”

Easing out of his seat he walked with her outside. Few people were left from the festival. Several vendors were gone. The lamps had been taken down leaving street lights the only source of guidance in the night.

He and Namjoo crossed the street with a gap between them. The faint sound of a drunk man singing a tune down the road echoed toward them, some backdrop mocking their troubles.

“I parked over there.” They stopped at the end of the block. The street was littered with paper cups. Someone had dropped their to-go box of half-eaten noodles on top of the street drain where the sauce spilled out of its white container. It reeked of oyster sauce.

“Will you be able to make it home?” Sehun asked.

“I can drive.” Namjoo affirmed but as the light glowed red, she didn’t cross the street. The only street light was about a yard away. The shadows of the nearest building cast over them. Slightly craning her neck back, she looked at him. “Can I call you? I won’t do it excessively. I promise. It’s just…I really miss you. Maybe if I hear your voice from time to time it’ll soothe me and I’ll eventually not call anymore. But…”

“It’s ok.” He stopped her rambling.

Namjoo pursed her lips. Her eyes sank into his morosely then lowered her head in surrender. “Yea…it’s late. I should go.” She shifted to walk away. Paused after several tiny steps and peered over her shoulder longingly with her big eyes, regret hanging in them. Then finally stepping off the curve she jogged the rest of the way to the other side, away from him.

If he told her he missed her too they would have left together, but with his mentality still cracked in half.

Namjoo deserved better than half of him.

⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕

At first, Namjoo hesitated. Then she dropped the phone. She didn’t know what she would say; if she might blurt out something she didn’t actually mean to say. In the end, despite asking, she never did call Sehun.

She tried moving on. She tried being ok, even if her heart hung empty on invisible wires waiting for her to retrieve it and pump it to life.

But she was never ok.

She was still sad and accepted that for a while, she would continue to be down. Maybe she would never feel truly the same. But Sehun was right.

A breakup was never easy. He was dealing with his part. She was dealing with her own aftermath. She took comfort in the clear fact that this wasn’t easy for him either.

They were still one and the same no matter the distance between them.

Honestly, she did understand where Sehun was coming from, so she never called. Regardless how much she felt she would respect him.

A month and two dropped by widening the space between them. Namjoo slowly became acquainted with no Sehun in her life. Busy with events at work, Namjoo focused her attention away from her solo overtures. Rejecting Kiwan’s blind date attempts. Choosing, instead, to have movie nights alone. Sitting by herself in the theatre, cupping an extra-large bucket of popcorn against her tummy as she laughed alone in the dark surrounded by an audience who came in couples or fours. At the end of the day she would wash and go to bed.

Things she was doing alone and finding comfort in. She could be her own companion, too.

One day after the two-month period with no Sehun, Namjoo received the offer that finally made her pick up the phone.

Though it was just a text Namjoo paced anxiously throughout her apartment. She had vacuumed, mopped, and even lit a candle to make the house smell nice. Went over thrice the dinner menu. Repeating to herself over and over how the evening should progress.

Dinner. Chat. She would tell him and end the night on a good note. The rest would have to be hers to prepare for.

Her future was in her hands, wasn’t it?

Namjoo immediately spun around at the ring of the doorbell. in a breath her heart pitter pattered even as she willed it to shut up. This wasn’t that kind of meeting.

Smoothing down her shirt and long skirt, she finger-combed her hair behind her ear. Clearing , she pulled the door open. Kind of surprised that Sehun actually came or that he had looked at his phone at all.

“Hey,” she greeted feeling awkward. “You came.”

“I promised I would.” He meant answering her call, text, whatever.

Holding the door for him she in a breath. She had the table set, their meals dished, and water prepared. She didn’t think she would be able to stand cooking while he lingered around her apartment comfortably. Like they were a couple again.

They were not.

Turning around Namjoo’s body quivered uncertainly. As always, thinking was harder than actually doing. This was suddenly much weirder than she expected. Two months wasn’t a long period of time, but two months without him had taken a toll.

Shuffling forward, Namjoo invited, “Sit down.” Then said the obvious and felt stupid the following second, “I already cooked.”

Of course, he could see it. Pulling the chair out he sat. Rounding the table Namjoo took the seat opposite. This strangeness panged the air as their utensils clicked against the plates drawing out the silence and he tested her food.

“Um…so, how’ve you been?” Namjoo started.

“I’m good.” Sehun replied. “I’m launching a store down south, so we’re scrambling for new managers.”

“That’s hectic,” Namjoo blandly commented.

“I expect it to be.” He agreed. “What about you?”

“I’m going to Italy tomorrow.” The words sped out. At the sudden news Sehun raised his head. The spoon in his hand stabbed straight into his plate.

It was what she had texted him about. Vaguely. “Let’s have dinner” without implying anything.

“I’ll be collaborating with a new brand. I thought it’d be nice to see each other a last time.”

It plunged deep into her heart the way he looked at her, and she imagined she must be looking at him with the exact yearning eyes unable to beg. So it hovered above them in unspoken words.

“How long will you be gone?” he wondered.

“I don’t know.” Namjoo said. “Maybe through Christmas and the New Year.”

The rest half of the year.

His lips moved forming a tiny smile that quickly dissipated into a soft line. “That’s good news. You’re really getting out there, like you always wanted.”

“Yea…” was all she weakly managed. Perking up, she asked, “Is your water warm? I’ll get you a new glass.”

When she returned with a freshly filled glass of ice-cold water, Namjoo’s eyes dipped to her plate. Suddenly realizing this last attempt was just her pulling straw out of a haystack. Going nowhere, but worsening everything for herself.

At the end of the tunnel she had found a shallow means of escape. Running away, really. That was what it was.

Because she could no longer stand living like an empty shell.

“I probably bothered you when you’re so busy,” Namjoo apologized putting the last of the dishes into the sink. “Don’t worry about the dishes, I can work on them later.”

Wiping her hands against her skirt she walked him to the door. A part of her hoping to delay this time with him. Her flight was at noon. They could share a glass of wine and talk, maybe.

Everything in the past few months without him played like a slideshow in her head. Missing him. Thinking of him during intervals of silence then allowing it to fade the coming second. Regret hung over her like a thick curtain every day of her life even if she pretended it didn’t.

Her broken heart had lain everywhere.

“It was nice seeing you.” Namjoo gripped her hands in front of her.

“Me, too.” Sehun turned around at the door. “Good luck with everything.”

The last time they had parted she had felt so low. That moment when she walked away Namjoo had cried again. Silently shedding tears and struggling not to wail in case Sehun heard and she guilted him into coming for her. Fighting the urge to spin around and envelope him into her arms. Tell him the words he always wanted to hear.

But this time may really be the last for them. She may be gone for months. She might find an excuse to not return. There was no chance Sehun would stay and wait for her. The possibility of him moving forward without her was high. His life was busy. The demands of work always his first priority. She didn’t stand a chance.

What if he met someone when he was happier?

“Sehun.” Unclasping her hands, she leaned up toward him. Gluing to his.

Stay with me.

Hands on his shoulders Namjoo withdrew. She waited a beat then kissed him again.

Don’t you want to stay with me?

When she reclined, he instinctively inched toward then hesitated. Namjoo kept her lips parted. Waiting. Testing.

When he didn’t, she took his upper lip into . Burning greed charging through her. She finally felt his reaction when his tongue touched her lips moving into . Digging her fingers into his shoulders Namjoo opened again. Tugging him closer with victory as she folded her arms around his neck. Binding him close to her.

She wasn’t going to let go.

Heat boiled at the pit of her stomach. Sliding a hand down his shoulder she touched the collar of his button-up. Plastering her hand to his neck. Popping the first button of his shirt and continued urging him with her.

Sweetly kissing him with heat in her tongue. Feeling the rumble of his grunt from within his chest at the tip of her fingers. Unfastening another button, she stumbled into the bedroom with him.

Sehun’s bated breath bounced off her face when they neared her bed. Chest rising Namjoo still clung onto him. The hall light glowed at his back. Shaded by the darkness she touched his face. His skin was superbly warm. He was flushed.

Maybe he wanted her, too.

Namjoo searched his eyes for any sign of mutual feeling. Her heart sinking because she may never have him again. Her fingers brushed his cheek. Trying to etch the way his face felt into memory in case she deleted his pictures and decided never to look back. Then at least her fingers would remember.

Forlorn sadness tickled the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t forget the shape of his nose; how it pressed into her face when they made out. The soft of his lips whenever they with want; how they stretched enormously whenever he laughed and smiled.

He had always looked so goddamn handsome. She had always thought it was unreal.

Sehun might think the light never touched him, but the light had always been in him.

Warmth gushed through her when he angled toward her. His hot breath first touched her wet mouth. Then he claimed her lips. The welcoming taste of him reignited all the feelings she had developed for him. The confusion and anger about his lies. The growing suspicion about his perfection. Breaking for him and falling apart because of him.

But Namjoo had never tasted his kind of love before. The utter devotion of his loyalty to her was beyond all the words she knew.

It was his unfair state that made him more human than anyone.

Oh Sehun was perfect the way he was.

Broken.

Sad.

Hurt.

Unable to move forward.

Unlucky.

Did he know that?

Namjoo didn’t need a buff man. He needn’t be unbelievably rich to shower her in endless materialistic gifts. His family didn’t need to be top notch from head to toe with successful careers or a big three-story house. Donning expensive brands, makeup, or jewelry.

As long as he loved her, he could have her.

***"My Love Story is You" is what they said in Jeju ;) I'm a genius