Tic Toc Tic Toc….

The silence is so overwhelming that the mere sound of the clock’s ticking hand can be heard.

Tic Toc Tic Toc….

She is casually sitting on the long soft couch but the awkward silence is getting on her nerves that it gives her the urge to just lie back and sleep, but she highly doubts she can. Although the dark circles around her eyes can attest that she is heavily deprived of it.

So she sighs and roams her eyes around the room instead. It looks exactly the same like the last time she was there.  Even the lady sitting from across her still wears the same friendly expression. She finally breaks her silence.

“So…”

The lady smiles and crosses her legs. “Tell me about your week Ms. Kwon.”

She does not return the smile but she answers back, “Same.” It is a simple straight forward response that comes to her automatically because it is the same exact one she gave last week and the week before that and even the week before the week before that. It’s so far back she has lost counting.

The lady with a welcoming pleasant smile tries to make a conversation but fails to garner result as she only mumbles a single word or two. It’s been like this since Day One, and she doesn’t bother to make any progress, really.

The clock ticks its final minute into the session and they got to, well, nowhere. She keeps mum to almost everything asked of her and she plans to keep things that way. Those letters attached to the lady’s name and those diplomas and certificates, even awards under the lady’s belt are not enough for her to trust the therapist.

But she does return as per requested, with the same guarded expression, with the same guarded heart. But going there every week is more for the people around her rather than for herself. So even if it is a complete waste of time and energy, she endures it just so she can put up a show that she is fine. That she is consciously trying to be ok. Even though she, in all honesty, is not. It is the least she can do for the people she loves that are worrying over her.

It somehow boggles her mind how the lady can tolerate her lack of cooperation. Maybe because it’s her job. She has put up an impenetrable wall to ward people off because no one would be able understand her agony, anyway.

She leaves the room when the appointment ends and her head throbs with pain as her heart clenches with heaviness. The accident has left her in nothing but deep despair and a scar that not even time can seem to heal. She clasps the part of her chest where her heart is supposed to be located, it hurts, it hurts so much that she runs.

People, who pass by, throw her judging stares or scrutinizing looks while she is standing awkwardly outside after coming out of the building. Getting used to such treatment, especially at work, she just shrugs it off. Random people’s opinion of her is the least of her worries.

She figures she doesn’t want to go home yet, and being without a personal means of transportation, she just walks aimlessly. Although her car was wrecked beyond recognition after the accident but she did not bother to buy a new one.

The sun is shining brightly but the wind is blowing cold soothing air offsetting the warm weather. A very nice time to go out and have fun. She could have gone out and enjoyed this day with him. They could have gone to a park or to Lotte World. He would have liked that.

Should have. Could have. Would have. Those are such haunting words that sear her heart with an unbearable yearning and regret, because some things are forever permanent and unfortunately irreversible.

A momentous amount of ache rushes over her once more, like a wave washing over the shore. And her eyes tingle with all-too-familiar sting which clouds her vision with water that is as salty and bitter as her feelings. She wipes the tears away but the awful pain disappointingly remains.

Without actually intending to enter one, she finds herself inside a café and a smiling barista greets her to take her order. Undecided on what to have, she asked for the shop’s bestseller without really paying attention to what it is. After getting her drink, she proceeds to sit and stir the said famous beverage with a straw half-heartedly. She absentmindedly takes a sip and almost regretting it immediately. It awfully tastes like a drink she had one too many. A taste that floods her with so many memories her head aches some more and her heart felt heavier.

She hurriedly abandons the drink and the place, before she knows it she is already inside a cab. She tries not to cry but the tears are streaming down her cheeks. Why is it that everything reminds her of him? Why do his memories haunt her to no end? Why?

“Where to, miss?” The taxi driver thoughtfully asks.

“Just drive me around.” She resists the tears from further blurring her vision. She wipes it away with her handkerchief and inhales deeply. The old man gives her yet another apprehensive look but does not say anything more.

When she is relatively calmer, she gave an address to the cab driver.

“Ilsan District?”

The drive to the neighboring district, northwest of Seoul, is a bit unfamiliar since she has only been there a few times. The feel of the busy city is abandoned as the ambiance of a more lax lifestyle welcomes her by passing more trees-adorning roads, lesser noisy honks from speeding cars, fewer people on the sidewalks hurrying to get to their offices or maybe just catching up the next train in the subway and the lack of the sky-kissing skyscrapers.

The cabbie takes a turn and halts in front of house situated in a friendly and serene neighborhood. The house is fancy but not too extravagant, modern but still has the feel of coziness a home should exude. There is a well-maintained lavish garden that is utterly breath-taking as ever because different variants of flowering-plant species of every color of the rainbows are there.

She takes a few deep breathes before slowly trudging the stoned pathway leading to the porch. Her hand hovers over the doorbell for a few seconds before finally pushing the button.

She is taken aback because the door opens almost immediately and a middle-aged man equally surprised stands before her. After both recover from the initial shock, the man gives her a very warm smile that is so endearing she can’t help but return it. Her eyes glisten with fresh tears once more. She opens to say a polite greeting but words seem to die in . Her lips quiver as she tries to prevent herself from bawling out.

“BoA, so nice to see you.” The man speaks first instead. He obviously did not miss how she struggles to keep her composure.

Not forgetting her manners, she lightly bows her head to give courtesy. “So nice to see you too, Mr. Oh.” She says in slightly croaked voice.

“Well, c’mon in.” He ushers her inside the house. “Honey, we have a visitor.” He calls to the direction of the kitchen.

Also a middle-aged woman emerges from the kitchen. “Who is ---” The woman stops in her mid-sentence because she runs up to BoA to give her a tight hug. A hug so reassuring, BoA thinks she is very unworthy of it. “Oh sweetie, so nice of you to dropped by.”

But the hug feels like a balm to her wounds that BoA can’t help but let herself take in the comforting effect she does not deserve because that is just what she needs right now. So she hugs the lady back with equal desperate longing. The loving arms around her managed to crumble her resolve and her wall comes falling just like that while unwanted tears mar her pretty face. The hugs tighten and the woman is now lovingly her hair trying to calm her down.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Mrs. Oh. I may have come in an inconvenient time.” The only words she is able to string together in between gasps and deep breathes.

“Nonsense. You are free to visit us, I hope you know that.” The elderly woman chastises BoA. She breaks the reunion and looks at BoA. She cups BoA’s face and wipes the traces of tears, while looking her straight in the eyes. Both women are teary-eyed but with a smile on their lips. “You are always welcome here. Anytime.”

“We’d love to see you more often.” The husband adds.

“Ok.” BoA nods because she would like that. She wipes her tears and smiles at the elderly couple who welcomes her to their lovely home.

“Ok. Enough with the drama.” The three all slightly chuckle. “Come sweetie, I was just about to serve lunch. Let’s fatten you up.  I can feel all your bones when I hugged you.” The loving lady jokingly reprimands her to ease the pain this unexpected event brought.

Innocent questions are thrown here and there to catch up with the missed moments together. Unfortunately, words come scarce to people who have put up walls around them thus only manages a few ambiguous answers as response. She instinctively puts up this invisible barrier to prevent her love ones from seeing her true feelings because deep down she is broken almost beyond repair.

If she can’t save herself from the consuming pain, hopefully she can save others from the terrible ache.

BoA volunteers to help clean the dishes and ignores any protests from the hosts. And in between rinsing off the plates and cutlery, Mrs. Oh grabs the opportunity to peek beyond her invisible shield.

“I don’t see a car parked outside.” Seemingly just a statement, but BoA knows better.

“I.. uhm.. I took a cab.. I still… you know.” She is unable to finish, she avoids the gaze that are boring holes into her soul. With the woman she came to love as her own mother, her walls might crumble once more.

“You still can’t drive.” Mrs. Oh finishes for her. “BoA… honey…” Trusting her motherly instinct, she envelops BoA in a hug once more and this time BoA cannot hold back. She sobs as her pent-up emotions she had been trying to hold get the best of her. She holds unto Sehun’s mom like her sanity depends on it.

“U-Um.. Umma, I’m so--- sor—sorry. I’m … real.. really—sorry.” Her tears are now like raging waterfalls that can’t be stop because everything is just too much. The pain, the guilt, the longing, everything.

“Shhhh… No honey.. There is nothing to apologize about.” Comforting warm hands slides against BoA’s back.

“I--- I wa—was dri—driving.” Her breathing comes erratic as the muscles around seem to close in.

“Shhhh… I know… but that doesn’t make it your fault.” Mrs. Oh’s voice comes broken too.

“It’s--- all—muh—my –fa—fault.”

credit to ~ xExBxRxUx Cookie Shop ~ for the poster

a/n: I may have accidentally fried my brain. *sigh*

I am sorry it is not up to par of the glorious angst fanfics that really gives you so much feels and all. I tried. English is not my first language. Pardon my errors. But hopefully you can still look forward for the next updates.

Overused words: pain, tears and wipes.

This may sound creepy and stalker-ish but the picture is supposedly the street of Sehun’s house which is in Seoul by the way.

I just wanna use another place thus ilsan district which is just like 27 kms from Seoul. So it is still pretty close to the city. I googled it.

Credit to the owner of the photo.

Oh well, comments are most welcome, and thank you for reading.