Entry 7

February 19, 2012

It has never, never, never ever crossed my mind that Kim Jongin would be casually lounging in my living room at 9 in the morning.

“Good Morning Kyungsoo. Nice boxers.”

My lower half of my body was adorned by a pair of cotton briefs with the word, DIVA, amplified with glitter.

I created a mental note to never borrow Kris’s briefs ever again.

After dressing up in appropriate clothing, I sat parallel to  my ex lover as he reminisced about his winter holidays.

As much as I wanted to hear about Jongdae crashing his father’s precious truck, more important questions rushed through my head.

Who let him in?

Why is he here?

Does he hate me?

And more importantly, why can’t he leave?

It only causes issues. I am not a big fan of issues.

“Kyungsoo?”

His brown orbs bore into my soul. It hurts. Why is he in front of me? I was living perfectly fine. I make a nice living, I take care of my body, and I volunteer whenever I can. But whenever he is here, he makes me feel as if I am not living. As if he needs to be there in order for everything to be fine.

“What?” I said with a grimace. I did not mean to come out rude but I did. He simply smiled. “Haven’t had your Cocoa puffs, have you?”

It was awkward at first. Everyone knew I mated with a man that was not Jongin, and although they never voiced out their opinion, it was evident in their eyes.

Nevertheless, Jongin would laugh it off when someone brought it up. His eyes would crinkle up more than usual and he made sure to display his perfectly white teeth. He was faking it.

Our whole relationship was fake. We went out on dates, kissed, hugged, etc. but nothing was ever the same. I’m sure that in his mind he was wondering who was the next guy I would .

His friend? His cousin? The school’s student council president?

In order to ease his mind just by a fraction, I would avoid physical contact with anyone expect him. It didn’t work.

This went on for 3 months. We conducted our own play, pushing and pulling, attempting to find out who would win.

But here’s a clue: Cheaters always win.

That is, unless the opponent stoops down to the cheater’s level.

Kim Jongin gave me a taste of my own medicine and ed Byun Baekhyun. Well according to rumors anyway. There was evidence though, a picture of Jongin walking out of Baekhyun's home shirtless and a serious case of hair.

Many would say that was a move, but I disagree. It was a wake up call. To me, at least. I ended my relationship with him the moment I graduated high school.

I saw Jongin cry that day. He denied all the rumors, and offered his explanation, which I ignored. He then begged me not to leave, but what could I do?

He deserves better.

And better is not me. It’s not even close.