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Sometimes, it feels like we come so far only to go back to nothing. Was what drowned Namjoo’s thoughts.

She lay in bed, sore. Not physically. The emotion spread like a thumbtack stubbed in her finger, the pain traveling like a surging wave from the source to all over.

No need to feel nostalgic. Two years had worn her out till now. Sehun gone missing to who knows where. But she had waited on him. Hoping he would remember to call whilst his travels. Having too much fun maybe? Living the best of his life forgetting she was a part of it.

Forget it. None mattered. She had seen it with her eyes. He had gotten married. He had a daughter somewhere along the way. Never notifying her. She had been left hanging in the bout of their ambiguous relationship. For some reason, it scarred her.

Namjoo turned her back to the ringing phone. Not in the mood. Needing to be alone. Requiring time to bathe in her forlorn thoughts before stomping on them in the day coming. Then all would be better and she could move on again.

These past few years, Sehun didn’t matter. She was living her life. She had taken steps with difficulty to put him behind her. To bury the promise she had taken half to heart.

Lies.

Actually, that day on her birthday she remembered catching the sly of his smile when he said it. As if he meant for it to happen. Saying those things to her. The joker he was. But he had known it, too, hadn’t he?

The weight in the air. The frazzle dazzle of a moment that only came alive when they were together. The light that always lifted worries off their chests when they met up. Chatting. Laughing. Complaining. Always there was something and never anything.

Between them only they had known these things without saying.

Between them, only it was possible.

But now, it was also nothing.

Coming from something back to nothing.

The phone died and picked up again. Spinning back around Namjoo sat up and snatched it off the edge of her bed. Nerves rattled, twisting, knotting. The name flashed on the screen.

Swinging legs off the bed, Namjoo flung the door open and fled from her room with a burst of energy. Chaeri who had just returned dropped the fork of noodles from her lips in the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

Without speaking, Namjoo sped out of the apartment. Her footsteps clattered down the steel staircase until she landed on concrete and continued down the street. Back the same way she had come this morning. Running, running, running as if she could outrun the beast of memories tailing her.

Her heart raced, the blood pumping like drumbeats through her body. Until she felt tired enough that her leg muscles might cramp and seize and she’d have to drop right then and there. Her hand smacked against the stair railing. Her head dropped. She panted. in deep high-pitched breaths. Her body mortified from the taxation, but finally she had finally outrun the flow of thoughts.

Picking herself up, she continued up the staircase to the second level and came face to face with the white door. It opened as if he had been waiting.

The corner of Park Chanyeol’s lips drew up expectantly. Parting the door, he let her in.

“You didn’t pick up.” He said closing the door.

One sweep of his open space apartment and he’d barely cleaned since last night. A bowl of finished ramen noodles sat on his countertop, the plastic fork sticking out; the rest of it bathing in the orangey broth. Yesterday’s clothes were still strewn across the floor. The curtain wasn’t even open for sunlight.

“Did you sleep all day?” she frowned with disgust.

“I don’t know.” He teased coming up to her. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, a hand sliding across her tummy.

“I’m not sure.” She turned away from the mouth about to touch her cheek.

“Then why’d you come?” he asked.

Namjoo couldn’t answer.

Tall geek Chanyeol was a web designer. Majority of his workspace was at home. He reported to the official standard building shared with the city administrative council sometimes. He hated the stained floors, the coffee stained breakroom, the cracked building, and the lights flickered from time to time.

He had also gone to elementary, high school and ended up in the same town university with her. They were alike. Their fates she could say. Planted in this town having gone nowhere. As if trapped in some spider’s web.

“I worked today, all right?” Chanyeol sighed. His steamy breath scorched the low of her neck. “Are you going to take it off?”

Namjoo shrugged his mouth away. “Hey, do you remember…”

“Remember what?” he lifted his head when she stopped.

No thinking. No thinking. Please. No thinking.

Namjoo blinked struggling between some dimension of here and there.

“Are you done?” he impatiently asked. “I know you slept at Chan’s the other night. Is it him?”

Brushing him off Namjoo sidestepped toward his bed and slunk down. His palms landed smack against his legs. Coming over he plopped down heavily causing the mattress to bounce. Landing splat with his arms outstretched he stared up at her.

He patted the area next to him. Namjoo gave it a second before laying down next to him.

“Someone messed up the coding system, so I’m burnt out after fixing it.” he muttered. “Damn idiot.”

Guess who’s back? she wanted to say.

Flipping onto his side he propped an elbow onto the bed and rested his head into his palm. “Are you going to just lay like that? I think it’s hot.”

Abruptly turning, Namjoo’s hand drew up his jaw pressing to his. He eagerly touched her, but she pushed him over. Chanyeol rolled her over. She kicked him off when her phone rang and scurried to get it.

“Namjoo!” It was her father. “I need some money. Some moron dented my car!”

“What?” Her voice filled with exasperation.

“I swear I was driving the right way then some idiot turned and hit me.”

“Where are you?”

“On my way home. I just dropped the car off at the garage to be evaluated.”

Rubbing her face, she asked, “When did this happen?”

“Just this afternoon!” her father yelled frustrated. “That just ran off saying he had to be somewhere.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know!”

“You should have gotten his number!” Namjoo scolded. “What if he runs away? He should be footing your bill if it’s his fault!”

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t thinking.” Her father mumbled.

Deeply groaning, Namjoo told, “Call me tomorrow after work. There’s nothing to do now.” Hanging up she threw the phone on the bed.

“Your father got in a car accident?” Chanyeol asked. He was now sitting with his hands propped at his back.

Ignoring him, Namjoo dropped onto the bed and stared up at his cracked ceiling. The upstairs neighbors were vacuuming. The roar of a machine filled the distinct silence. Settling down beside her he folded his arms behind his head.

Staring up, he asked, “What? Something bothering you?”

“No.”

“If you’re not here to sleep with me, I don’t know why you came.” He said. “Isn’t that all you want?” Sliding his eyes to the corner he asked, “Unless you want to start dating me all of a sudden.”

She saw the coy grin on his face and scoffed. “I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Why not?” he wondered. “You’ve never done it. I could be pretty good.”

“I don’t want it.” Namjoo’s gaze filled with anguish. “I don’t do commitment.”

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Seulbi purred like a tiny kitten, curled up, hugging her ragged bunny bear close. Years old from the first time he saw it in the display window. It was his first gift for her when she e. He had saved his paycheck to buy it for her. Now the bunny was no longer white. The fur curled up tightly till the texture turned rough and harsh, but his dear daughter still hugged it when she slept. Like it was the most precious thing.

Sehun wove his hand through her hair. Sliding the silky strands over her shoulder revealing the chubby cheek he hoped she would not lose too fast. His cute daughter that he loved so much.

“I want to name her.” Haewon had said, clutching the infant ling her after she was born in the hospital. Teary eyed. Choking on a cry. “Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.”

And then…

Frantic Haewon. Hair rustled from too much finger combing, hair yanking from frustration, tear streaked, cheeks a blush from the heat of annoyance, red rimmed eyes, screaming at the end of her wits, “Shut her up! Shut her up! I can’t listen to her crying anymore! Do something!”

Early days it had been. Cradling Seulbi. Rocking the restless child in his arms. His hungry baby, because Haewon, who knows where she had been. Returning home in the late evenings. Picking arguments over their tiny apartment.

“I can’t live here anymore! I can’t breathe!” She would slam a hand on the table. Angry with him. Angry with her life. Their situation.

Young parents with no adults to pave the way. Bills had been their own. Sehun had worked two jobs, relying on the next door neighbor’s 13-year-old daughter, who was more interested in hanging out with friends and dressing up in crop tops and short shorts to impress boys, to help babysit. Or Haewon when she was free, but she, too, had been more interested in herself.

Seulbi had cried so much when she was little. Shedding so much tears for a little thing. Who ever knew a baby had that much in her?

His poor daughter. His lovely daughter.

Lightly caressing his daughter’s round cheek, Sehun smiled. But they were here. Home. Promising he would give her a better life here, where she could make good friends that would last a lifetime.

Seulbi could grow up happy.

The coming morning his daughter was first awake. Jumping about on the bed. Breathing at every hop, the movements vibrating a voice in her chest, waiting for dad to wake.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” She sing-songed.

Blearily blinking, Sehun covered his eyes from the bright sun filtering in through the side window. Flinging his arm out he caught Seulbi, tossing her onto the bed, tickling her. A round of giggles shot through her. Tiny legs kicking giddily.

“Are we awake now?” he asked.

“Yay!” Her arms flew out accidentally knocking him in the eye. Sehun yelped and covered his face. Unaware his daughter continued jumping excited.

Throwing over the blanket he wrapped an arm around her middle and carried her off the bed like a pillow. Used to this routine, Seulbi continued singing gibberish until they reached the bathroom where he let her down. Wetting a towel, he carefully washed her face. Seulbi shrieked and stuck her tongue out at him when he finished. As soon as he got her toothbrush ready, she burst out of the bathroom circling around the living room table, like she was running on sugar.

Sehun went three rounds with her before throwing her into the air and catching her with a grunt. Wrapping her arms around him she giggled gleefully.

“Ok, now that we’ve played, you brush your teeth, ok?” Sehun carried her back to the bathroom where her readied toothbrush sat on the sink counter. Still carrying her he handed her the toothbrush and grabbed his.

“Do it like this,” he said brushing his teeth. Seulbi copied him although quite clumsily, but she was happy and that was enough. They rinsed their mouths together. Finally letting her go he went into the bright kitchen to start on breakfast.

She came right over when he called her to eat. Kicking her legs eagerly under the table. His apartment was small but comfortable. Most importantly, family friendly. He had two rooms, a bath, a family room, and a stubby kitchen. Affordable after he’d applied for government assistance being a single father. The application process had been tedious and a long procedure, but once he qualified, he was now managing.

Seulbi could even go to school. He could afford her a backpack without resorting to a thrift store. She didn’t have to wear clothes a child before her had. Sehun had a job at the administrative council office. Regular hours gave him enough time to drop Seulbi at the bus stop and pick her up, spend the rest of the evening and have quality time with his daughter.

Youth was the most important part of a child’s life. He planned to be there for Seulbi through and through. Sehun would raise her responsibly.

“Dun want go.” Seulbi pouted when he pushed the opening of the dress over her head.

“But you have to.” Sehun told. “Daddy has to go to work. You go to school.”

Grabbing a comb off the dresser he hurriedly fixated her now messy hair. Next a scrunchy to tie her hair. He didn’t want her eating her hair while having lunch. Seulbi didn’t know any better. She screeched when he fastened the knot too tightly.

“Ok, ok. Sorry.” He her face. “Daddy’s sorry. That better?”

Seulbi pouted.

“Ok, come on. We’re going to be late.” Grabbing her backpack then her hand he led her out of the apartment, jogging with her down the sidewalk just as the bus arrived.

His heart ached as Seulbi obediently climbed into the bus. He truly didn’t want to part from her, but he had no choice. She had to grow up. He had to support her. All he could do was wave as she took a window seat and the bus took off.

“Is that your daughter? You must be new here.” A middle-aged mother mused.

He smiled, nodding in greeting. “Yes, I just moved here.”

Glancing at his watch he bid farewell before rushing off to his car. A beat-up Taurus. He’d driven over three hours to come back and yesterday crashed into another vehicle. Late picking up Seulbi he had driven too anxiously. The front bumper was scratched, but the car was still running. The only most important prospective.

Sehun greeted the lady at the front reception. His desk was further back in the room. His own cubicle hooked up to a personal phone and computer. The entire space his now. He processed bills, loans, recorded late banking statements, and made calls to handle disputes between payer and distributer.

A 4x6 photo of Seulbi sat next to his computer. What got him through each and every day. Doing this for her.

Today he arrived promptly at the bus stop. Joining the mothers to wait for their son or daughter. The bunch of them hovering at the stop sign and chattering like early morning birds. Stay-at-home moms he supposed. When growing up his mother had followed that route. Nurturing him with the best care. Having food prepared for him, bringing snacks to him in the middle of assignments. She had been his best person growing up.

Sehun stepped closer to the curb, waiting at the side, hoping Seulbi would spot him if she was at a window seat. Prepared to wave once he spotted his daughter, but the zeal flew away like the wings of a bird flapping as it took flight. Sehun turned his head, following the movement of the slowing bus when he spotted Namjoo at the front.

Fully braking at the sign, the bus hissed and the door opened. Watching Namjoo step out in an A-line midi skirt topped with a matching blouse. Donning some kind of cartoon cut yellow apron. She seemed animated. Speaking and moving with zest, her voice a pitch higher as she spoke to the children. Helping them off one by one while simultaneously chatting with the mothers.

She didn’t notice him. The Namjoo who always looked for him. She didn’t even see him.

Peering into the bus for the last passenger, she called out, “Seulbi? Let’s see if your mom is here.”

Stretching her arm inside she waited patiently until his daughter stepped forward quietly, sullenly. Seulbi didn’t take Namjoo’s hand, but she was carefully helping his daughter off the last step onto the sidewalk.

Namjoo searched left, right, and then straight at him. The expression in her eyes changed from bright to maybe surprise or maybe disappointment? Sehun couldn’t tell.

“Daddy!” Seulbi screamed lunging at him.

The weight of energy bumped into him and subconsciously moved a hand to touch the back of Seulbi’s head, but he couldn’t look away. He caught the gentle sway of Namjoo’s gaze moving to the left. Becoming dim, despondent before wholly turning and reentered the bus.

And he recalled the nights he earnestly stared out the window across the street. Waiting for the door to creak open. Once the small shadow snuck out, he’d be out of his bed and down the stairs. At the front door where he’d be listening for the knock.

One, two then he’d open the door. “Hey,” he’d pretend to greet like he hadn’t been waiting.

“Sorry I woke you.” Namjoo would somberly apologize.

“What’s up?” he always tried not to sound too eager.

Shrugging, she’d say, “Want to sit out here for a bit?”

They’d sit. Always next to one another until they grew older. To here where they were no longer next to another.

***feels like Just Like Now + The Flowers We Saw = this story xD