The door banged open, keys were strewn on the table and shoes were kicked off before the door shut with yet another loud bang. Abruptly, I awoke from my mild nap and recollected myself just in time to see him storm past me with his big, dark eyes boring into mine; the ‘brightness’ from them were almost eliminated from existence. His aura was rayless; his moves were rough and sharp. Why is he like this?  I longed for the happy virus, the strong vitamin, the old Park Chanyeol. This is not what I was promised to. He’d promised he’d take care of me forever, told me that I shouldn’t worry about my future - as long as I was with him, everything would be okay. I trusted his words. I believed him. I gave him my hopes. I turned to his hunched figure on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand.

“Hi,” I said while readjusting my appearance. I managed to smile, even though I was breaking inside.

He ignored me.

Nothing unusual, this has been happening for the past few nights – I should’ve gotten used to it by now. He continued to mess with his phone, his slender fingers gliding swiftly over the screen as he texted whichever lucky person he has his full attention on.

“How was practice? Did your broadcast go well?”

I tried to talk to him again, wanting to speak to him, wanting him to speak to me.

“I was waiting for you to come home, you know. But I fell asleep haha…” I stifled a laugh. It sounded unnatural and forced, but it was the best I could conjure.

“I say… how about a movie night? We haven’t had one in ages!”

“I need to get up early tomorrow for a broadcast.” He gave a sparse response, clearly suggesting that he doesn’t want to converse. His mellow voice sounded menacing. Should I act dumb and pretend not to see through his harsh gesture? Or should I just leave him be? The prime idea seemed preferable. I should try gaining his attention again.

“Eaten yet? I have some left over spaghetti…”

Again, I was given the cold shoulder. His phone suddenly buzzed and he answered the call.

“Oh Joomin-ah! I told you not to call!” He laughed as he spoke, his what-were dark eyes now turned to bright crescents, his mouth flashed his pearly white smile and his menacing voice turned to the bright, chirpy Chanyeol I was used to. I hadn’t seen him act like this in ages. He seemed happy talking to the person on the phone, and from what I perceive, a girl. My heart clenched when I realized that he’s talking to another girl, a girl that makes him happy, a girl that brings the best out of him, like I did ages ago.  Was he cheating on me? If he was, he’s doing it blatantly, too blatantly.

I sighed in defeat and dragged myself to my room. I would normally stay until the long, lonely hours of midnight in the living room, on the computer  and entertaining myself since Chanyeol doesn’t even care any more. But tonight, I couldn’t. It’s too hard pretending that everything is okay, lying to myself every day that things will soon become normal and we’d go onto cute dates together, be content with each other’s presence, and Chanyeol would be Chanyeol again. Except this will never happen. I‘ve lost hope; dreaming won’t be doing me any good. Quietly, I shut the door and leaned against it, curling myself up into a ball, my arms around my shoudlers, my head between my chest and legs. I exhaled, my breathe interrupted by the sobs I was holding in. I cried. A lot. I felt so small, so useless. His laughs were dominant, but they were muffled by the thick walls, walls that separated us.

To him, I was nothing.

I was invisible.