With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I opened the text message. The first thing I noticed was the length of it:

I know that you don’t want to talk to me. But please believe me when I say that nothing was going on between Jessica and me.

Nothing WAS going on between Jessica and me? The use of the past-tense caught my eye. Nonetheless, I continued reading.

But since you haven’t talked to me for a long time, I think it’s time for us to just stop all this madness. Our relationship isn’t going anywhere. It’s cowardly for me to break up over a text, but to tell you the truth; I can’t face you in real life. I’m not even sure that you would listen anyways. I’m dating Jessica. I’m sorry that it couldn’t work out. Goodbye, ________.

Pain wasn’t even the word. It felt like my heart had been stabbed multiple times, stomped on and left out to rot. Almost as if my mind was detached from my body, I saw rather than felt the phone slip out of my hands and on to the floor, where it lay, screen still glowing. To say I felt broken wasn’t even fair. Broken was to describe a teapot that lay shattered on the floor, or a phone that wouldn’t turn on, not a heart. I remembered laughing at cheesy romance dramas, when the main woman was dumped by her dashing boyfriend, and spent days and weeks crying her eyes out over him. Now I know how she felt, although this wasn’t acting. It was real.

This new realization, that it was really over, that I would never be his again, sent a torrent of tears down my face. I wasn’t much of a crier, so this flood of emotions surprised me, but didn’t suppress the heartache. I wept shamelessly, pouring out all the words I wanted to say to him in the salty tears. I don’t know how long I sat on my bed, simply crying and rocking slightly, my legs pulled up to my chest and my hair sticking to my face, cemented there by moisture.

But by the time I had finished feeling sorry for myself and freeing my body of tears, it was dark out. Forcing myself up and out of bed proved a challenge. I simply wanted to melt into the covers, and forget the heartache that had happened. Walking into the kitchen, I peeled a banana and ate it, chewing forlornly at the soft fruit. Suddenly, from my bedroom, there was a beeping sound. My phone.

I half wanted to know and half didn’t. Eventually, curiosity won and I picked up my phone, opening my inbox.

No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be!

KEY OPPA?!

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

Why could Key Oppa be texting you!?!

Hmmm...The plot thickens!

P.S: I personally really like the picture of Eunhyukkie in the background of this fic. It's one of my favourites!