Yoo Nara

I dumped down all by books by the couch, creating a thunderous clap that echoed throughout the empty house. Just looking at the chaotic pile left me strangely satisfied. Perhaps I could leave it all there and forget all those sleepless nights filled with the company of my books. Perhaps I could stop trying so hard and live how I want to, without the constant pressure of needing to be the best, needing to be perfect.

But I knew I couldn’t.

Studying was my life, the only thing that had given me comfort as I grew up neglected. I was like an addict who through years of usage, had grown attached to his drugs. I wouldn’t be able to live if I didn’t have the books that numbed the pain. To me, it was the hope of one day being acknowledged, being known as the best, and eventually as perfect. I wanted to be everything my father hoped for. I even had the distorted mindset that my mother would come back for me if I were better. Perhaps I wasn’t worth it back then, but eight years made a lot of difference.

I wanted to be perfect, badly, maybe too badly. In my head, I had created my own deranged explanation, believing that with perfection, came happiness. That by being perfect, I would be able to find a purpose, an escape from the harsh reality inside my own mind.

But it never came. Waiting for a break in the storm was pointless.

Letting out the breath I had been holding, I picked up the books once again and made my way up the staircase to my room before closing the door on the rest of the house. I wasn’t quitting today, or tomorrow, or the day after that. I was stuck in a vicious cycle that practically consumed my whole life. To get out would mean a fight, and I just didn’t have that kind of strength in me.

I changed out of my uniform and settled myself on the bed immediately, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room in the process. Long, messy black hair shrouded my thin face, casting it in a shadow that when combined with my pale skin only made me look half-dead. My eyes contained an aura of sadness, the sparkle and edge having faded with the passing years of torture. I was ugly and miserable.

“Was it always this bad?” I thought to myself as I cringed at the reflection staring back at me. Turning my head slightly to the right, my eyes caught a framed photograph on my bedside table. I reached over and picked it up, the corners of my mouth turning up slightly at the captured memory. The 8 years old me, on top of my father’s shoulders, my mother holding on to my hand as if she were terrified I would fall. Even with the slightest of scowls etched upon her pretty face, she was laughing. We all were.

No, I decided, it hadn’t always been that bad. But that was before everything changed. I’m not even sure exactly what it was that made everything so different.

I sighed and pushed myself up, shaking my head back and forth to clear out my mind, which had recently become cluttered with useless thoughts. Walking to the window, I pulled aside the curtains and let my eyes wander across the flawless blue autumn sky.

As I tilted my face upwards to capture the waning rays of sunshine, a black figure caught my eye across the street, moving swiftly from behind the house and over the fence, settling lightly on his feet as he landed. My head cocked to the side as I had never seen him before. I doubted his recent move, for I would have noticed the moving trucks that came with it. At the same time, if I hadn’t seen him in all the years I’ve lived in this house, there was no way he could not have been a newcomer. Now intrigued, my eyes left the sky and settled on his outline from across the street.

Making his way back to the door, he suddenly stopped, frozen in place just as his hand reached the knob. I held my breath as he slowly turned around, as if he had sensed my gaze boring into his back from only a few feet away. His dark eyes shifted around the block, finally resting on my own with a blank expression etched on his otherwise handsome face.

A jolt of electricity passed through my body in the millisecond our gazes connected.

And with that, as suddenly as he appeared, he vanished into the confines of his house and the spell was broken.

The whole encounter was a blur, making it hard to believe that he had seen me at all. But I hadn’t imagined it; for in his eyes was the same unmistakable pain and sorrow that I had seen in my own just moments before in the mirror.

In his eyes, was his story and I was determined to hear it myself.

Guess who it is! Although it's probably pretty obvious..

Almost done with the next chapter already! ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* \(◕ω◕✿)/ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧