If there’s any embarrassing moment in your life that you would never be able to live down, it would be what happened just a few weeks ago outside a church before the steps to the rickety concrete parking lot. Sure, you’ve been terribly close to getting your head dunked down a toilet or being forced to dance Gee in the school cafeteria because you lost a bet, but those are things you can look back to and chuckle at the memories.

But this, telling a boy, well, man now, that you love him after a few months of not seeing him and then escape to your car—That’s’ embarrassing.

You shift onto your stomach in your bed as you stuff your head in the pillow that muffles your scream because the same dream has decided to plague your mind once again in the wee hours of the morning. Dreams take you back to eighth grade year when you did a project over REM and stuff.

This is how the dream goes.

It’s basically the wedding all over again, except things are more dramatic like rose petals floating in the air and more eye contact with the Lee Jonghyun, and when you snuggle into his warmth and tell him that you love him, instead of you leaving in tears and confusion, he grasps your wrist and reciprocates your feelings and everything is just all rainbows and sparkles and unicorns—

You’re only kidding yourself.

 As the sun gradually climbs its way up into the sky, you space out, still in bed, and think back to how you knew you loved somebody like Lee Jonghyun.

High school had been hell, as it will once and always be, even if you were in a great group of friends: Tiffany, Seohyun, Lee Jonghyun, Kim Jonghyun, Yonghwa, you, Minhyuk, Jungshin, and Minho (Because Minho dated and is still dating Kim Jonghyun—why are they so adorable?!) Things were nice; weekly dinners at a person’s house, support group whenever somebody needed it, stake outs on the beach to get the girls hooked up (Which, actually, worked for all the girls except for you. That’s actually how Seohyun and Yonghwa got together, little green monster of jealousy Yonghwa is). You didn’t exactly have the body or the personality, but that’s not the point.

In simpler words, Lee Jonghyun was your best friend. You realized you had broken rule #1 (Never fall in love with your best friend) around junior year when he asked you to prom as platonic friends. And then you managed to keep it quiet ever since, though Seohyun gave you those knowing looks as you minimally blushed and diverted your gaze elsewhere.

 But all good things come to an end, and he went abroad as the rest of you parted to their separate ways, you, Yonghwa, Seohyun, and Minhyuk all attending the same college. You had stayed in contact with Jonghyun, but then college and the time difference took a toll on you both and eventually, it just didn’t work out.

Jonghyun always managed to say the right things when you needed it, like if you were down and could only talk to him about it and not with the group. He dealt with your spontaneous, but rare calls at three in the morning when you would get nightmares of your mother’s death and he’d sing you to sleep through the phone. It was the little things that had you falling harder and harder.

Before the wedding happened, you saw him in a café and nearly tripped over your shoes on clean tiles with a cup of hazelnut macchiato. After thirty seconds of awkwardly standing, you mustered up the courage to go and say hi, plastering a nice fake smile on your face. He had looked up in surprise from whatever was on his phone and broke out in a grin and stood to give you a friendly hug. You took the seat in front of him and asked how the days went and what it was like abroad, stories passing between you two like he had never left and you had never loved him at all.

While you were explaining a story of Seohyun and Yonghwa, the bell on the door rang and Jonghyun looked up to see who it was, a grin bigger than ever as he waved whoever it was over. You had turned around in confusion and felt your heart drop and roll across the porcelain tile floor, right in the way of the girl’s high heels.

Jonghyun had stood up and kissed the girl on the cheek before slinging an arm around her shoulder. “This is my girlfriend, Sunyang,” he had said with a small smile on his face. “You must be _______,” she had stated. “Jonghyun’s said a lot about you.”

You had given a small laugh and replied, “I hope he hasn’t said anything too terribly embarrassing. You must be the girl that’s stolen his heart, ne?”

“Yes,” she chuckled behind the back of her hand.

In other words, this girl is perfect, just like Jonghyun. She’s got the perfect job, the perfect face, the perfect personality, the perfect everything that a guy would want in a girl. She dresses fashionably, but not ty in any sense whatsoever. The aura around her is terribly comfortable and you can’t help but wish for some sort of flaw.

Having been unable to take the pain in your chest, you had excused yourself, saying that you had to go to your job now. They had bid farewell and when you turned the corner, you broke out into a sprint for your secret hiding place. The tears had spilled from your eyes like an overflowing river and you didn’t bother wiping them as your feet took you to a similar alleyway leading to some train tracks. Your hand clutched your wristlet with waning force as your steps slowed as the familiar surrounding formed around you.

Caught up in your sorrow, you slipped on a rock and scraped your knee and pushed back the pain as you stumbled down the tracks, ignoring the blood that slowly dripped down your calf and stained your sock. Eventually, you came across the electricity pole and slid your back against it as you stretched your injured leg out and folding the other one close to your chest.

Trains had passed you, the wind blowing your hair away from your face and causing your tears to veer off in another direction. The sun had slowly started to set, sending blood red and burnt orange streaks across the sky.

“Still come here?” A voice had startled you out of your reverie.

Jonghyun had positioned himself next to you and grabbed your leg to lay it across his outstretched legs as your body turned with it towards him, causing your head to lie on his shoulder and face his neck. You had chuckled and shakily replied, “This is my spot, you know.”

“Doesn’t have your name on it.”

“It will with your blood.”

“Still as harsh as ever.”

“Shut up.”

He had sighed. “Look at you,” he had murmured just barely loud enough for you to hear. “What have you done to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed.

I don’t know.

Of course, you had fallen asleep and woken up in your room with a large band-aid over your skinned knee and a note.

And that had been that.

Things were so awkward at the wedding, as you recalled.

By the time you finish reliving your experiences, the sun is blinding you and you groan before grudgingly flipping over to avoid the piercing rays. Your reminiscing sends you into a downward spiral of unwanted thoughts and sadness and you eventually decide that a shower is in need, along with a hearty breakfast.

You stay in the shower a little longer than needed as you lose yourself in your brain under the shower head and blindly reach for your towel. The drying process is gradual and methodical, the towel rubbing into your hair with thoughts as your eyes glaze over like the fog crawling on the glass to obscure your reflection.

You go out for some street breakfast and return to see that your apartment door is slightly open. Suddenly wary, you tentatively poke the door and it slowly swings open, wide enough for you to slip through surreptitiously. The food gets set on the table and you’re about to peek into your bedroom door when someone slips a sound.

“Boo.”

You spin around and instinctively send your fist flying, only to let it get caught in larger hand. Your eyes widen and you direct your gaze at whoever it might be and exhale when you see that it’s only Jonghyun. You hiss and groan, using your other fist to punch him in the shoulder and stalk off to your dining table to angrily finish the rest of your food. Jonghyun chuckles lightly, following you and closing the door like a gentleman.

“Come on, you can forgive me, right?”

You stuff the rest of your breakfast in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak, aggressively masticating the fluffy goodness of the baozi.

The only warning you get is a maniacal snicker before an arm wraps around your neck and a fist effectively gives you a noogie and the action officially wants to make you cry ugly tears and hole yourself up in the corner of your room. “Argh, stop it!!”

“Forgive me first!” He hollers playfully.

“Fine I forgive you now let me go please!” You beg in a long run-on sentence.

He releases you and you unattractively frown and pout as you unsuccessfully fix your hair, letting your hand flop down to the side as he swats it away to help you fix it.

You stealthily take a deep breath.

Right. I can do this.

-

-

Bull.