A/N: Hellaurrrrrrr, I FINISHED MY FIRST YEAR OF UNI!! RAHHHHHH 

Anyhoo, here's the next chapter :) It's a short one! I only get a two-week break then it's back to school so I'm going to try to milk my free time and write as much as I can!

Hope you enjoy this short chapter! Do comment with your thoughts!

All the love, xoxo

The world is closing in on me. 

Mother, the little girl in my fragile heart rejoices.

Mother, the aching teen in my bruised chest hisses. 

Mother, the war-torn woman I am today sighs. 

All I can do is grieve as I choke on shock, and she swallows shame. 

Her hands tremble. So do mine. Her doe eyes turn glassy. So do mine. Our apple cheeks redden, our chapped lips frown, our thick brows furrow. We exist as wretched mirrors of each other. 

My head spins and I am back, eight years old, homesick for the arms that almost killed me. I am back, twelve years old, desperate for her hands to run a brush through my matted hair.

I take one step forward. She takes three back, ending our total eclipse moment by rushing into the driver’s seat, leaving me once again.

I exhale the air I was holding in, and my hands fly to my chest to cradle my pounding heart. Sungchan, oblivious that the world is suffocating me, gently nudges me.

“C’mon, let’s head back,” he says with a smile, unaware that I’m on the verge of crumbling into a mere pile of insecurities. 

“I-I have to go,” I rasp.

My head spins and I am back, in my dark apartment and sunflower-colored bedroom. My fingers quiver, my ears ring, and my blurry vision zeros in on the tired face on my phone screen.

“Jang-mi, dear, I’m sorry but this isn’t a good time to talk. I have work-.”

“Dad,” I try to cut him off, tucking my knees to my chest. 

“Oh honey, before I forget, I texted Yeonjun about our annual camping trip. He didn’t get back to me yet, could you-.” 

“Dad!” I raise my voice an octave, finally earning his attention.

“What’s wrong?” Dad asks in a level tone, scrutinizing me through the screen with his weary eyes. 

I lean back against the headboard, gaze fixated on the ceiling to stop the tears from spilling. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “How come you never told me mom was released?”

His deep inhale is an insult.  “How did you find out?” 

“Does that even matter?” I grind out. “She’s remarried now, Dad. She’s a stepmom.”

“I know,” Dad replies. 

Betrayal is a thousand bee kisses on my skin. “And you didn’t think I deserved to know?”

“Jang-mi, that monster of a woman tried to kill you!” Dad thunders, slamming a fist into his desk. 

His neatly stacked paperwork falls to the ground. I bite my tongue. 

“I will never forgive her for it. She is dead to us. Dead!” Dad’s eyes blaze and I bow my head, guilty for scratching open our scabbed wounds.

“She was sick, Dad,” I remind him, fighting back the urge to sob, wail, and shout at him for denying me the right to a mother.

Dad combs back his messy hair, revealing the wrinkles on his forehead. “She was released just before you started high school. She moved on with her life. We moved on with our lives. Jang-mi, let’s not dwell in the past.”

“Just before I started high school?” I ask and Dad nods slowly.

I ask the million-dollar question.

“Why didn’t she come back to us?” 

She got better. We could have been a family again. Or at the very least she could have been a part of my life.

Dad’s deep voice trembles. “She didn’t want to come back, Jang-mi.” 

He casts his pain-ridden eyes down. “She-.”

A knock on his office door ends our conversation. “Sergeant, it’s time to go.” The voice snaps my father back into the present while I’m stuck in the past.

“I-I need to go,” Dad rasps and my screen turns black. 

I finish his interrupted sentence. 

She abandoned us. She abandoned me. 

I am lost.

Staring blankly straight ahead, I drown in the sea of swaying bodies, blaring music, and flashing disco lights. 

The bottles of liquor that crowd the kitchen counter sing a siren’s song, draining my self-control. I succumb to the temptation and poison myself with shots of vodka.

My head tipped back and my vision blurry, I barely registered the excited voice that was calling my name.

“Jang-mi!” Sungchan shouts over the loud music, waving animatedly. I return his warm greeting with a sweet smile.

“Hey, you,” I slur, stumbling over and grabbing his forearm for balance.

“Hey,” he chuckles, gently placing a hand on my hip bone to stabilize my swaying body. “How are you?” He asks, a flicker of concern dulling the sparkle in his eyes.

“Great!” I lie.

I show him my best smile. I show all my teeth and raise my cheeks until they ache. I smile as if there isn’t an ache in my chest I’m desperately trying to get rid of.

Somehow, I decided a house party would do the trick. Drowning in cheap liquor is my plan for the night. 

Sungchan pinches my cheek. He nibbles on his bottom lip to stifle a smile and I grab his wrist. After swiping a fresh bottle of vodka off the table, I drag him outside to the pool. It’s less crowded and much more pleasant to the senses. We claim two empty sunbeds at the far end.

Leaning back, I watch Sungchan untie the apron around his waist. He neatly folds the fabric into a compact square.

“Why do you work part-time?” I ask. He certainly doesn’t have to work as a waiter. He owns a professional camera that costs more than my monthly rent and wears a Rolex wristwatch. 

Sungchan slowly lowers himself onto the sunbed, letting out a soft sigh. “I uh-. I guess I just like the long hours, and having to be fast on my feet. Good practice for when I become a teacher since I’ll spend most of the day standing and running around the classroom.”

An endearing smile touches my lips. Then the rim of the bottle does and I take a long sip.

“So uh-.” He scratches his nape. “Why the sudden invite?”

I sit up straighter and offer him the bottle, but Sungchan declines by gently pushing it away. “I wanted a friend,” I say honestly.

I’ve never been to a party alone. The only parties I’ve ever been to are the ones Jaemin dragged me to.  

The thought of my ex-best friend makes me take another long swig. Sungchan scrutinizes me with his kind eyes. I avoid his gaze and dodge the possibility of intrusive questions by motioning to his camera.

“Have you taken any new pictures lately?”

Sungchan lights up at the mention of his hobby and we sidle up as he proudly tells me the stories behind every new photo he’s taken. 

“That’s pretty,” I hiccup, pointing to the pink flowers in the photo. 

“What is?” Sungchan asks and I shift closer, jabbing my finger at the screen. 

“The f-flowers.” I choke on a hiccup and Sungchan raises an amused eyebrow at me. I cough to try and get rid of the hiccups but it only makes it worse.

Sungchan laughs at my struggle and I punch his thigh. “S-stop laughing at me!”

I muffle his giggles by pinching his lips together. 

“S-stop it!” I hiccup and he frees himself by holding my wrists down. 

“I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time u-understanding y-you,” he mocks me and I playfully shove his head to the side. 

“Stop it,” I whine, my voice finally stable.

“Alright,” he chuckles, bowing his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

We’re sitting close, our sides pressed firmly against each other. 

I return to the photo on his camera screen. “The flowers are pretty,” I say, and Sungchan gulps.

“I can take you there,” he offers. “It’s a field not far from here.”

He bravely holds eye contact and I can’t help but smile. “Sure,” I say softly. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” he echoes my words, but excitement dances in his voice.   

It’s my turn to lower my head, but it’s not to conceal the blush on my cheeks. It’s so I can briefly shut my eyes and ask myself- what am I doing? 

Sungchan doesn’t notice my retreat, starting to talk about the next photo in his gallery.

The alcohol coursing through my veins shortcircuits my tongue and the words spill before I can swallow them. “You like me, don’t you?”

Sungchan blinks blankly, turning slowly to face me.

“I saw my pictures in your camera,” I reveal. “You put your hoodie on me when I fell asleep in that classroom. You followed me around and took my photos.” 

Sungchan clears his throat, his hands curling into nervous fists. 

“I-uh-.”

“You like me,” I accuse.

He takes a deep breath. He relaxes his hands. 

“I do,” Sungchan admits and we lock eyes.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he confesses and my fingers curl around the edge of my skirt. 

He shakes his head. “I just never had the confidence to approach you. You were dating Yeonjun and then Jeno and I-.”

“And you?” I egg on, mapping his puppy face with curious eyes. 

“And I like you,” he shrugs. He pairs his awkward smile with an airy laugh.

He likes me. The thought makes the hole in my chest ache a little less.

He likes me. 

“I don’t want things to be weird between us,” Sungchan is quick to add and I shake my head.

“No, no, it won’t be,” I assure him, reaching for his hand.

We press our palms together but don’t intertwine our fingers.

The warmth of his skin makes me sigh and it dawns on me.

I know what I need to feel whole again. I know how to get rid of the pain that’s eating me alive. 

I trace the veins on the back of Sungchan’s hand. He lets out a shaky breath.

I peer up at him through my lashes. He smiles down at me. 

I let go of his hand and reach for the side of his face. Sungchan stops breathing. So do I. I boldly lean in close, the devil on my shoulder cheering me on. 

Our noses collide, and our lips are two magnets.

The world stops. 

Stop.

The little girl in me cries. 

You can’t use him. 

He won’t make you feel whole again. 

I’m sorry, I’m about to say against his lips, but my apology is rudely interrupted.

The air is knocked out of my lungs when I am brutally stripped away from Sungchan.

Nails dig into my bare shoulders and a guttural growl makes my heart rate spike.

“Are you out of your ing mind?” Jeno hisses, and I blink rapidly