Winter, 2013

La Soirée Cafe was unexceptionally busy that day. Although it was only nine A.M in the morning, customers had filled the entire room. Waiters and waitresses were busily taking orders. Some were making a lot of noises behind the counters; brewing coffee, accepting payments. The uniformed security stood still beside the automatic door, waiting for customers to come before he bowed wholeheartedly towards them. Chatters of the vendees echoed in the conditioned yet smoky air. Clarion sounds of soothing music were shuffled for everyone to hear.

In between the assemblage, spotted was Oh Sehun sitting in the couch near the window, smoking his third cigarette as he threw his glance outside; examining the crowd of youths whose faces were exposing huge grins and laughter. Although he was only twenty five year old, Sehun missed being young at age. He missed being inconsiderately responsible for his own mistakes yet still heedlessly repeating them from time to time because once he had a theory in mind: what is the point of life without any tinted mistake?

Now that he grew up as a man, though, he came up with a determination that life itself was an omission. Upon every step he took in the world he knew as fault, more cognition explicated on him. More rhetorical questions came to deluge his astuteness: what is the point of shooting a dead man with more bullets? What is the point of giving life a mistake when it is already a mistake?

He might be the youngest among most of his peers, but Sehun had always been a man in his wise. He knew what was right and what was wrong. He knew what was happening and what was not. His way of perceiving the true interpretation of life was beyond the average. He had a lot of thoughts that most of his age didn’t, yet still, he was humble and considerate. He appreciated others’ way of seeing something although it differed to his. He refused to share his perceptions and philosophic views for which he knew each person had the right to see life in any possible way. He kept his thoughts on his own because he did not want to arrogate others’ notions. He did not want to change them.

He had experienced too much changes; too much of alternations that it was enough for him to understand. At one point, he managed to construe that a man should penetrate and adhere to merely one belief, one distinct idea. A man should not crusade life by holding onto too much cogitation.

Unfortunately, he failed to bring himself up to that extent of maturity. He might had succeeded to endure twenty five years of living a vague life, but putting himself in one, reconciled figment was left as an incomplete endeavor. He could not stick to one belief because he constantly changed his mind. And those changing mind and perceptions - he knew – were the reasons behind the numerous regrets he had to sustain.

At the sudden vibration from his cellphone, Sehun flinched in nuisance. He had wanted to embrace the serenity of winter, because he hadn’t felt serene for the longest time. He had told his wife that he was going to the café first thing in the morning, thus he did not expect her to be the one calling. His wife was obedient. She understood Sehun’s feeling of wanting to be alone, and Sehun believed she would not disturb him unless something important went on the way.

He lazily took his phone from the pocket of his jeans; his eyes widened in surprise at the name that appeared on the screen.

He had received the same call for numerous times this week, and he had always rejected them for he did not want to talk to the person. But he knew the person too well to know that he was persistent, that he would do anything to have what he wanted to have.

With a heavy heart and mind, Sehun took a deep breath as he pressed the green button on his phone. Sooner or later he would have needed to answer the call, hence - giving it more thoughts - why not answer it now and end everything? He leaned it closer to his ear before he heard the voice – deep and immersing – went to travel through the call.

“Oh Sehun,” the voice demanded, although to Sehun, it sounded more like a fleeting bullet that went to kill him by his heart.

“I am not giving you any for being such a jerk, Oh Sehun, but trust me; I am going to kill you for abandoning her like nothing between the two of you ever matters.”

When Jongin noticed that his call, finally, wasn’t rejected, he went on talking without giving his friend a chance to even say hello. He had tried to call Sehun for a hundred times ever since days ago, and a voice mail saying that the person he was calling was busy kept on averting his call. Despite the fact that they were good friends ever since high school, which, to be counted, was approximately ten years of time, Jongin had referred Sehun as an absolute loser. A person with no dignity; a person not worth to esteem. He regretted every bit of him for he realized that he used to see Sehun in admiration, in a way that he himself got disgusted by remembering, because by the time being, Sehun was – and would always be – a loser in his eyes.

“You are giving me by talking like this, don’t you realize?” from the other end of the phone call, Sehun said. His voice was very familiar to Jongin, although it had been months since he had last heard it. The last time they met and had an actual conversation was during Sehun’s wedding, which was about a year ago, and Jongin realized that for the longest period of time, Sehun’s way of speaking hadn’t changed for a little bit. Ever since the old days, Sehun was known as a man with less words; as a person who rarely talked, but when he did, his words would be full of confidence, making it seemed strong yet ignorant. Sehun didn’t like to blab around his words, nor did he like any person who did so. His words were always blunt and unvarnished. Jongin, who had known him for decade, was already used to it, although at times he would still be vexed.

“You are such a loser, Oh Sehun,” Jongin responded. His patience was already out of reach. He had thought – before he made the call – that he would be able to talk about this with a clear and soft mind, but he had found himself wanting to end this just as quick as possible. End it with a way out or with nothing. He stole a small sigh before continuing his sentences as anger occulted every bit of his voice.

“Don’t you know how hard it is for her? She hasn’t gone out of her room for the longest time!” Jongin uttered in a loud, exigent voice.

“She won’t talk to me or to mother, not even her parents who came days ago to comfort her. She’s not talking to anyone and she keeps on mentioning your name, like only the presence of Oh Sehun will cure her. Tsk, I don’t even see the worth of your presence in her life, Sehun. By the time you entered the room of her heart, I knew that you’re going to break it into fragments because you ... you never believe in yourself. You never have enough confidence to commit into a promise that, pathetically, you have vowed by yourself.”

There was a pause in his sentence that Jongin realized as hesitancy. For ten years, he had seen Sehun with full of respect, and never had he talked this way to him before. He hesitated for a split of second – considering that Sehun was his friend and friends should not talk harshly to another – but what he was saying was the truth, and in the end, Jongin found no fault in uttering what was right. Sehun was indeed dismayed. He feared too many things for he was not able to gather his confidence, not even to stay by Soojung’s side; the promise that he himself had made.

“She’s out of control, Sehun. Last night, she broke most likely everything in her room, and I have no guarantee that she won’t run outside to destroy anything she can destroy. She’s demanding for your presence – only that will calm her down,” Jongin continued. He tried eminently hard to soften his voice, for he realized that anger would not help by any matter.

“You are saying that I should come and sedate her down, is that what you want?” Sehun, on the other side, remained calm. Jongin was annoyed by Sehun’s answer that seemed inconsiderate, like he had given no thoughts about Jongin’s words at all. Jongin, again, stole a sigh to control his rage, for he was sure that it was about time until he was going to kill Sehun for real.

“I am saying that she needs you,” he answered. “So it’s not what I want – it’s what she must have wanted.”

Sehun was probably thinking of a way to reply the statement, hence, there was a short period of silence until Jongin heard a loud, vociferated shout from upstairs. Soojung.

“ it, Sehun,” he said. His eyes averted into the door of Soojung’s room, where endless loud utterances were emitted from. He saw his mother running from the kitchen to reach for the doorknob, and she was gone from his sight as she entered the room.

“We are bringing Soojung to a mental hospital because it is the only way to stable her, unless,” Jongin did not care if Sehun was still on the line or if he was listening at all. He ran upstairs to reach for Soojung’s room as he continued,

“—Unless you can come and prove her that promises are meant to be kept.”

He then disconnected the call, silently hoping that Sehun would consider his entreaty. The last thing he would want to do was sending Soojung to a mental hospital, because Soojung, to him, was nothing different. Soojung, to him, was normal, and even if she was different, it was not due to her imperfections.

Jongin knew, from deep inside his heart, that Sehun saw Soojung just exactly as how he saw her, and he hoped that something would enlighten Sehun’s mind, for he had wished that the man Soojung loved would come to keep his promises.

Gathering his thoughts, Jongin entered Soojung’s room to spot her sitting in the corner; her legs pressed tightly onto her chest. Her small palms were pressed against her ears, a red sight of liquid streamed down from between. Jongin’s entire body was shaking from the surprise. He saw his mother crying in Soojung’s bed as she covered her face with her hands. She looked up to Jongin and said nothing. Her eyes were flooded by tears. This was probably the hundredth time Soojung had lost control, but Jongin’s mother still did not know what to do, for the case, Soojung needed no more than Oh Sehun to calm her down. And Oh Sehun was not there at all.

Jongin averted his gaze back at Soojung, who was still hiding herself beneath her own embrace. Blood. It was blood that streamed down through her palms. She must have hurt herself when she broke all the things in her room, leaving them into pieces of glass and any other sort of materials. The vase was fragmented – the glass, the frames, the clock – everything were on the ground, broken.

Jongin felt himself crying, although no tears were surged from his eyes. He felt them after his throat, an aching pain seemed to be killing him. He took a deep breath in attempt of gathering his thoughts as he walked slowly towards Soojung, who was mumbling something he could not comprehend.

Jongin felt his legs trembling. The sight of Soojung reaching her breaking point was killing him in an instant. He had seen Soojung out of rage for countless times, but seeing her breaking into pieces like nothing ever mattered but Oh Sehun himself, Jongin had merely seen this state for the first time. He was not sure who was at fault. Was it hers, was it Sehun’s, or was it his? The guilt of allowing Sehun to enter Soojung’s life came to haunt him, although a small bit of him had believed that it was solely Oh Sehun to blame.

When he stepped in front of Soojung, Jongin could no longer sustain the pain so he unconsciously fell on his knees. He tried eminently hard to hold back his tears, for he knew that a useless cry wouldn’t change the situation by a tiny bit. He, instead, forced a small smile as he tightened his grip around Soojung’s wrists, gently pulling them away from her ears.

Soojung was still mumbling. The mumbles, Jongin realized, turned out to be the name of Oh Sehun. It pained Jongin even more. She had mumbled Sehun’s name ever since last year, ever since Sehun left. It pained him to know that the man she had waited for so long was about to break the promises he had avowed. Or, perhaps, he had failed them without notice.

Jongin was still trying to pull Soojung’s hands away for he wanted to shed the blood out of her palms. Soojung, though, was putting her entire energy to keep her ears covered, because she had found it the most efficient way to kill the fantasies. In her mind, there was an image of Sehun – walking with his back facing her – walking away, leaving. It’s the delusion that she had seen for a length of year, and she still could not get used to it, for it feared her. It killed her.

“Soojung, please,” Jongin pleaded, his voice trembling from disbelief. He tried to take Soojung’s hand again, and when he did, he quickly wiped the blood with his shirt.

“Please, stop hurting yourself,” he, again, pleaded, although he was not sure if Soojung was listening at all. When the bloods were entirely shed, Jongin pulled Soojung by her head to his embrace, soothing every bit of her hair in attempt of calming her down. Soojung, though, was trying to free herself away because at the time being, it was not Jongin that she needed.

“Sehun …” she mumbled. “Sehun. Sehun. Sehun. Sehun.”

Jongin could not sustain it any longer. He felt tears streaming down from his eyes; tears of pain, of agony. He cried out loud as the voice vociferated from his mouth merged in the air with his mother’s and Soojung’s. He felt entirely useless. He had never failed to sedate Soojung down – knowing that he was now failing, that Soojung would no longer listen to his words – it ached him. It ached him more to know that behind her chafe, there was Oh Sehun. Oh Sehun, the man that he once trusted, the man that he allowed to stand by Soojung’s side, the man he used to respect. There was Oh Sehun and his promises. Oh Sehun and his unthriving vows.

Jongin took another deep breath before he gripped Soojung’s wrist, harder than he already did. He took her by her chin to face him as he looked directly through her eyes. Breaking. He saw her breaking into pieces.

“It’s okay, Soojung. I’m here,” he said, hoping it would comfort her in any way. But Soojung, she had wanted Sehun. Merely Sehun, the one she saw as a hope. She merely wanted Sehun and she needed nothing more.

“He promised!” Soojung shouted. Her eyes widened in exclaim. Within, Jongin saw anger and fragility, two different things merged in one. She repeated hysterically, her hands continuously hitting Jongin by his chest.

“He promised! He promised! By my side ... leaving … not leaving … he promised! He promised!”

Soojung did not know how to embrace herself. She remembered the first time she had feared of losing him, when he had avowed the promises that until now, she had held onto. She remembered the scent of Sehun. It was not the scent of smoke, not at all. He smelled like heaven, warm and serene. She remembered his figure. He was tall and dependable, and she liked how she could bury herself in his body. She remembered his eyes – sharp yet peculiar – with the color of brown, the color of tranquility. She remembered his lips. It was colored in red, tinted in a perfect line. She remembered his touches. They were comforting and solacing.

She remembered every bit of him, and only the presence of him right now would give her the calmness she had needed.

She wanted Oh Sehun more than anything else that mattered because - unfortunately - she feared of losing him more than she feared anything else, even death.

It had come to her mind that Sehun leaving her life was not, at all, a delusion. When Sehun stopped coming to her house, when he did not bike to the park, the place where Jongin and the two of them used to play together at, when he was no longer there when Soojung needed tranquility. She had come to a conclusion that Sehun had left for real, and she felt like her soul was taken away concurrently. She was not sure if it was love or merely comfort, but then again, what it was called did not matter. She liked being with Sehun and she wanted to be always by his side. She wanted to be with Sehun in eternity, solely that, and the life she had seen as emptiness would undergo tremendous changes.

She saw Sehun as a hope. His vow was an assurance, and to that, she persevered. She still saw him as a hope, although the tiny bit of her knew that Oh Sehun, the man she had held onto, was vanishing from her life. Yet, she’d fight with everything she had to keep him stay. Even if it required her to hurt herself, she would not mind.

Jongin did not know what to do. Soojung was not going to tranquil unless Sehun came to make her so, and Jongin was not at all certain with Sehun’s decision. He was a man with a lot of thoughts, a lot of considerations, but at the same time, he feared too many. He feared to abandon the realistic life he had had, and for that, Jongin knew he wouldn’t come to keep his promises. But then again, Sehun was a man with a constantly, changing mind. He might have given some thoughts to Jongin’s request and probably had decided to come.

Jongin hoped so. For the time being, he had no other choice but to watch Soojung raging in torment. He would wait for Sehun until the middle of the day. If no sight of him was to be found, he would bring Soojung to a mental hospital, and then he would come to search for Sehun so he could kill him right away.

In his seat, Sehun remained still. Under the couch, spotted were the case and battery of his cellphone. He had thrown it in anger, leaving them unattached to each other once they reached the canted floor. Upon hearing Jongin’s words, there was nothing but anger that flooded within him. He was, needless to say, angry to himself. He was holding his grudges for so long and now that Jongin had pointed them for him – Sehun did not know what to feel but to be irascible. He was so angry that he threw his phone onto the ground, leaving a short yet loud shout onto the smoky air. Other customers had stared at him in disgust, some were throwing obscured look, and some others were avoiding his seat for they were afraid that he would throw his tantrums again.

Sehun threw numerous sighs in attempt of stabilizing his emotion. He would effuse the outburst of his pain sooner and later, and it was probably the last thing he would want to do. He needed to calm himself before he could slide down to the thoughts that had waited for him since a while ago.

He slid another cigarette from its box, marking the fourth tobaccos he had lit after two years of quitting. When he was about to put it onto his mouth, he felt a sudden, flinching unpleasantness that ached his heart. He tried to ignore it as he inhaled the cigarette, leaving its smoke lingered in the already blackened air, and the ashes he dusted in the tray. Another aching pain reached him – it might be his lungs that were tired of holding excessive amount of smoke after so long they were freed from it – or, perhaps, it was solely his heart that was hurting.

Sehun recalled the voice of Jongin that travelled through the call, onto his ears, before it managed to find its place in his mind. We are bringing Soojung to a mental hospital unless you can come and prove her that promises are meant to be kept. Sehun knew that promises were promises, and again, nothing could pull back what was already avowed. But really, bringing Soojung into a mental hospital? Could not there be any other way?

Sehun had found himself not wanting to come to the house and see So Jung. At least, he had thought he did not want to do it on the first place. When Jongin had requested him to come through the short, yet to Sehun, heartbreaking phone call, Sehun knew he would decide to not to come. He would not come only to see Soojung dying in anger; in agony. He would not come only to watch the woman hurting herself and might as well the others; mumbling his name; crying desperately to catch merely a small glimpse of him in the hallway, and he sure would not come to stand and watch her being a torment to herself. It will only hurt him, and he wanted no more of pain in his already fragmented life. It might sound selfish, but he could not lie to himself. He was afraid of the pain that would terminate him later when he saw Soojung after his own eyes.

Besides, there was fear as well. He had found himself fearing a lot of things; seeing Soojung in an uncontrollable mess, he feared. Seeing Jongin who would probably throw a knife at him for being such a jerk, like he had mentioned before – he feared. Seeing his wife who would probably cry in an outburst of jealousy and disappointment later when she saw him reaching for Soojung – he feared. Sehun was a man of endless thoughts, to the point that he, much to his dislike, had the tendency to think overly, leaving his thoughts grew as fear and insecurity.

Hence, when Sehun had first heard Jongin’s request, he circled around the decision of not coming, for his thoughts had embraced at most every possibility that would happen if he ever did, and to those views, he feared.

He closed his eyes and again took a deep breath. However, though, the more he let himself slid down to his thoughts, the more he was uncertain about what he really wanted. Did he really want to stay and leave Soojung behind? Did he really want to be the one who took her by the edge of her life – and only in a short length of time – to be the person who threw it like nothing about her ever mattered? Did he, Oh Sehun, really want to give up the love of his life – the woman he had found precious, the woman he had loved with his entire heart – merely to perceive happiness from a veridical realism?

He was not, at all, sure about his answer.

He let his fingers messed his fading pink hair as he extinguished his cigarette. Its light dimmed as Sehun pressed the edge onto the tray; its dusts swam along with the previous he had dispersed, and its smoke found their place in the air. Sehun gasped and flinched a little. His lungs must have been under a shock, for they hadn’t kept too much smoke after two years of time. For a split of seconds, it was difficult for him to breathe properly, and he had realized that he had met his weakness. Smoking. Smoking was his weakness. He used to smoke endlessly in order to support the strength of his lungs, but he had quit for a length of two years, hence his lungs could no longer sustain the amount of smoke cluttered in between. Smoking. Smoking was his weakness, for his lungs could no longer keep up with the pain, and for his heart that would always draw the sketch of Jung Soojung. Smoking was his weakness, for it reminded him about the promise of quitting he had avowed.

Sehun shuttered his eyes tightly, allowing nothing to be seen through the brown of his pupils, the color of tranquility, like Soojung had said. His lips mouthed curses that he meant from himself, for he had hated Oh Sehun for being such a reckless, irresponsible, inconsiderate and heartless man. He tried eminently hard to gather his entire self. He needed to make up his mind and decide. For so long, he had held onto two ends of rope. One leading to the life he was living with his wife, another leading to the life of Jung Soojung. For so long, he had held onto the both of them, without realizing that the day he was obligated to choose, would finally come in between.

A few miles away from where Oh Sehun was having a battle with his own self, Jung Soojung was waiting in despair. She had yet to move from her seat, right in the corner of her Lavender scented room. She saw her cousin incessantly trying to stand her up – to calm her down – to provide her serenity. She saw her aunt drowning in a mess of outcries, doing nothing for she did not know what to do. But the view of Jongin and his mother was occulted by the image of Oh Sehun. Soojung pictured the figure of Sehun standing in front of her, but only when she was about to reach for his hand, he went away.

He faded to merge with the empty air. He left, leaving no traces at all, nothing to lead Soojung toward his way. Soojung shouted in pain. Her palms went back to cover her ears. She closed her eyes tightly, trying with all her might to picture Sehun; his eyes, scent, lips, everything about him she had tried to draw within her head. But he was not there, and Soojung could not convince herself unless he came for real.

After minutes of arguing to himself, Sehun finally stood up from his seat although his legs seemed to be trembling like they had lost their vigor. He bent down to pick the case and batteries of his cellphone, putting them separately in his pocket before he took a few steps toward the exit door.

He needed to end everything right now. No more thoughts should deviate his way. He was deciding: to let go of Soojung’s rope, or to hold onto them, and let go of the other.

He clenched his hand into a tight fist, exerting any strength he had left to convince himself that everything was going to be alright. Except, maybe, everything wasn’t going to be alright at all, for he knew that regrets would culminate him once he took his decision.

Soojung was still crying in excruciation when Jongin dragged her by the door. His hand was tightly wrapped against her wrist. He dragged her by putting his entire strength, although tears were falling down from his eyes. Soojung had tried to pull herself away, but Jongin was a lot stronger than she was. She wanted to release herself from the grip, merely to find her body fell onto the ground.

“Leave me alone!” She shouted, her eyes widened in exclaim. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me-”

She was stunned for a second, knowing that her wrists were tightly held not by Jongin anymore. Jongin had stood behind her – his face buried underneath the shoulder of his mother – his tears fell incessantly onto the floor. The last thing he would want to do was sending Soojung to a mental hospital, for he knew, Soojung was not at all different. Sending her to a place that she did not belong to ceased him, but he had found himself allowing the nurses to bring Soojung along.

“Don't touch me!” Soojung, again, shouted in agony. Upon the touch of the stranger, which happened to be a nurse from the hospital, she felt uncomfortable and scared. She only wanted Sehun, why could not she find him when she badly needed his presence?

In the café, the clock ticked ever so slowly. Second by second passed and Sehun had yet to step outside. He needed to make his decision right now, but he could not make up his mind.

Before he met Soojung, he had found himself loving a woman by the name of Jin Ri, and at the age of 24, they were betrothed in an engagement. Love was the stand of their bond. They loved each other and Sehun was completely certain with the fact. He loved Jin Ri for she was the light of his life, and having to know that she was now his wife, could not there be anything more delighted than that?

However, though, he met Jung Soojung. He had found himself liking to be by her side. He admired her strength, her imperfection, her beauty that was hidden underneath every difference she had owned. At first, he had thought it was merely admiration. Merely respect and adoration. But when he found himself aching by the reason of Jung Soojung, he realized it was something more than that.

He realized that Soojung had marked her place in his heart, and after all these time, Sehun never admitted it for he had always been denying. He loved Soojung the way he loved Jin Ri, and it was obviously not at all only admiration. He loved Soojung and knew they were inseparable in eternity. He loved Soojung for her imperfections – her madness – her lunacy. He loved her for she had always seen life as emptiness, but still, she lingered to live. He loved her because she was different, and at all differences, Sehun had seen a sparkling, eternal beauty. To Sehun, Soojung’s imperfection was resplendence, her indulgence was brilliance, and although most of the time she’d act ridiculous, it was a lot better than to be deliberately impassive.

Soojung, in the other hand, had drowned under a deep mess of pain. She had begged Jongin to make her stay. Wherever the nurses were bringing her, she knew she’d dislike the place. Unless it was Sehun’s place that they were heading to, she would not mind. But knowing nothing about her destination ceased her even more. She had shouted to call Jongin’s name, begging for him to pull her away from the nurses. But Jongin, the cousin that she had always trusted, was hiding himself beneath the tears that occulted his face.

Soojung felt herself almost breathless when the image of Jongin and her aunt dispersed from her sight. As the nurses locked her in the car, she found herself looking through nothing but the lightless, empty seats. She tried to catch her breath. Inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled. She tried to cope up with the endless pain, but she was too weak to even open her shuttered eyes.

As the engine turned and the car drove off, Soojung rested her head onto the restraint. The nurses must have injected a sedative onto her, for she found herself calmer than she thought she ever would. The image of Sehun still appeared in her mind, his tall, dependable figure stood right in front of her, his hand reaching for her to hold.

But Soojung knew, it was merely a delusion.

Sehun was not coming back to her life, she was now completely certain to that. Despite the vow that Sehun had promised – the vow that at length Soojung had held onto – he was not at all coming back. Sehun had vanished, and although Soojung still hoped a miracle would bring him back to her, she still knew that he wasn’t going to come in any short amount of time.

Sehun, the only hope of her life, was gone.

Sehun, her only hope, had evanesced, and there was nothing she could do but to keep holding on to his unthriving vow.

Under the incessantly falling snow of the cold, gelid winter, Oh Sehun finally brought his hard steps onto the crowd. Tears were falling to touch his cheek – his hand tightly immersed in the pocket of his coat – his breath sounded almost ceasing from the pain in his lungs.

He had decided his choice. His dilemma had come to an end.    

Sehun might have legion amount of regrets in his life - but leaving the woman that he loved and breaking all the promises he had avowed - he did not know such kind of regret would suffocate him more than anything else.

He finally realized – after all those months he had lived without her presence – he finally realized that Oh Sehun, without Jung Soojung, was merely a decedent soul.

He was merely a decedent soul, but to the life he had never seen as fairness, he decided to stay departed.

He decided to let go of the rope leading to Soojung’s life, and hold onto the realism he had had. He loved Soojung, he truly did. But with the thoughts that always cluttered his mind, Sehun came to a conclusion that he merely wanted to embrace a realistic life. With Soojung - he had found it as a delusion; too far from real. His love to her was too vulnerable, and Sehun knew that he had no confidence to commit to another pain. Not to himself, and not to Jung Soojung.

Hence, he decided to fake a mask to himself, to keep on acting in the world of fraudulent manifestation.

He decided to bury himself under his own unthriving vow.

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