the clock ticks.

tick.

tock.

tick.

silence has never been so loud.

at the dinner table, steam rises from her bowl of galbitang. (minji had rushed out from work after her shift ended to go to the grocery store to pick up the beef, green onions, and the potato chips that siyeon loves in order to make the dinner that siyeon had been craving for the past few days). 

minji remembers when laughter used to rush like streams of water, flowing towards its gravitational pull to wherever the river led. 

remembers when siyeon used to gravitate to her.

across from her, there is only the empty chair that siyeon would usually occupy. 

siyeon’s work hours are long and sometimes she likes going out after finishing up her work with her coworkers to blow off some steam. but she promised she’d be home for dinner. drumming her fingers on the table and glancing at the clock hung on the wall, siyeon should have been home ten minutes ago.

(a part gnaws at minji. a part that knows that siyeon will come home when minji is too exhausted from her day to keep her eyes opened. stubbornly still, minji reheats their soup when it turns cold as the hour turns. her stomach grumbles in protest, a deep pang against her heart rattles her ribs).

minji checks her phone. her lockscreen illuminates like the smile that siyeon has in it, her forehead against the temple of minji’s head, her nose grazing her cheek, unrestrained love shining from her eyes the way it spilled in her heart.

she finds no notifications other than the messages from the group chat that she shares with their friends. apparently, gahyeon tried cooking something and managed to burn whatever meal she was making even with bora supervising her via facetime call. but, nothing from siyeon. replying in the group chat with encouraging words to make gahyeon feel better, minji locks her phone after double checking her texts with siyeon.

she promised she’d be home in time for dinner. she promised with two exclamation points and a red heart.

normally, minji can take pride in her patience. (hell, she waited three years for her promotion and for some recognition from her boss without too much of a fuss. and she waited for siyeon for years when they were younger. even when the later years became painful and wrought with a sadness that left scars from where stitches used to be punctured, minji wouldn’t take it back. even if siyeon never loved her back, falling in love with her might’ve been the greatest thing that happened to minji because, god, loving siyeon feels like running towards the moon with reckless abandon and her heart in her hands and basking in her warm light. and even if that means breaking her own heart in the process, at least she’d have felt the glowing comfort of the moon guiding her home). but she can only take so much. she can only take so many broken promises and empty words, dates that should have happened, only for her to be humiliated and left looking pathetic and lonely at a restaurant with an empty glass of wine in front of her.

and she tried. she had told siyeon about what she felt, that she missed her endlessly even in the moments that siyeon was actually there beside her because she began to miss the feeling of her being there. she shifted her schedules to match siyeon’s, even turned down a promotion because it meant her working earlier mornings that would take her time away from siyeon peacefully sleeping in their bed, her head tucked into her neck. minji doesn’t like begging, hates being so weak that she needs to plead for someone to stay. but she finds herself imploring siyeon to stay, to love her. 

(minji can’t help but to think that she isn’t doing enough, could never quite be enough). 

somehow, even when siyeon lays beside her late at night after coming home from going out and subconsciously pinches the skin at the back of minji’s hand to help her get to sleep after she curls up beside her and rests her arm across her stomach, it still feels like she is not there and holding her—that there is a siyeon shaped hole in her heart gnawing at h