His name is Kim Jongin.

His skin a perfect shade of bronze, eyes a pool of strong chocolate brown. Impeccably sculpted nose, cherry lips and dark tousled hair so dark it was almost blue. Clad in a white graphic shirt that covered his chiseled abs, a black leather jacket draped across his broad shoulders. His lower limbs dressed in tight dark jeans and blue Converses protect his feet. He is Kim Jongin. 19 yeard old, 179cm tall. Kim Jongin is the epitome of perfection.

Eyes follow Jongin as he struts down the hallway. He catches a couple of screams and hushed confessions. Jongin’s heart leapt when he saw her sitting alone, nose buried in the latest novel by Haruki Murakami. He stands in front of her, not saying a word until she looked up at him, her eyes almost bulging out of its sockets caused by his unannounced visit. Jongin looks at her blankly. “Wh-what are you doing here? I c-clearly said we’re o-over, Jongin!” She stammers. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to fix things up. I just wanted to tell you something.” Jongin says smoothly. “O-oh.. go ahead.” Jongin can see anxiety in her eyes. He looks up to see a small crowd gathering around them, but he didn’t mind them. Jongin clears his throat and speaks in a calm tone. “I..just wanted to say thank you, for everything. You were there for me from the start. You supported my dream though my parents were against it. I’m very lucky to have met such a girl like you.  All the days and weeks and months and years we’ve spent together, I’ll remember them all. Thank you for  being there for me when no one wasn’t. You turned my world on its heel. You’ve become a part of me,  I will never forget you. I respect your decision and I’ve made you unhappy for some time. Thank you, yeobo, for loving me, as Kim Jongin, not as the idol they see on TV. You deserve better. Thank you..for everything.”

Jongin wraps his long arms around her for a bone crushing hug. One last time. He’ll definitely miss her—how her eyes disappear whenever she smiles, how her hair still smells like strawberries even after a long day, how her small, smooth hand fits perfectly inside his big, calloused ones. He’ll miss the way she kisses him goodnight. Jongin’s reverie shatters as he felt something watery soak his shirt. She’s crying. He lets her go, gazes at her soft brown orbs for the last time. Jongin bends to her level and murmurs something in her ear. “You’ll be okay, I’ll be okay. Maybe in a parallel universe, we are together.” He kisses her forehead softly, shoulders convulsing as she tries to hold in her sobs. He turns on his heels, the now big crowd staring at him as he left the scene.

His name is Kim Jongin. His skin a perfect shade of bronze, eyes a pool of strong chocolate brown. Impeccably sculpted nose, cherry lips and dark tousled hair so dark it was almost blue. He is Kim Jongin. 19 years old, 179cm tall. Kim Jongin is the epitome of perfection.

And he, Kim Jongin,  is ready to start a new chapter of his life.

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Author's note:

You've just finished my "oneshot"! Thank you for reading! How was it? sob sorry if it seemed a little bit rushed ;A; comments are loved! <3