It didn't take long for Myungsoo to break his promise.

To this day, I'm confused, still, why on Earth, how on Earth, I expected any different. Myungsoo was never the caring boyfriend he pretended to be towards the end. In fact, the tragedy had blinded me as to the significance in his change; I thought he felt it. I thought he understood the pain, maybe I let myself believe his change was for that reason. But my delusion had to come crashing down eventually.

I take a steady step forward. Now I'm only step away from the edge. The rooftop is empty, quiet, and cold. I'm getting the mass of the weather here. My hair, although soaked, still flies around my face, because of the force of the wind. But I'm unaffected. The thought of him always sent me into a daze; as did it for 99% of the female students at our school. For different reasons.

Happiness. Adoration. Puppy-love.

Now?

Emptiness, betrayal, realisation. 

But I was never one to show vulnerability. Not even with everything else.

 Flashback

I sat alone at the picnic bench. My 'friends' were in the canteen, and they hadn't bother to see me since I'd returned, but I didn't care to join them. I didn't care for much any more. Not even the fact that my best friend had been avoiding me since I had arrived, and I hadn't even been paying special attention to her. Just the way her gaze avoided mine in the corridor was a give away. 

Strange, how one day something such as my friends and social status could be my whole world, and yet the next it all meant nothing.  Nothing at all. My parents often told me that I focused too much on it. 'Friends, fame, school; it's all temporary. Family is forever," they would say. Ironic how it took me their passing to truly realise what they meant, how true it was. A few whispers in the corridor, a few stares from outsiders. Suddenly, I was the freak, the orphan, fragile and unstable. How ignorantly uncaring teenagers could be. No one in school gave a damn about me; I truly had nothing but my small family left.

And that was fading fast.

It had been only five weeks since my parents death. Five weeks. 35 days. That's all the school had allowed me to take off, even in my situation, even with a brother to look after. I hadn't recovered, who would've? But I hadn't shut down either, like it felt like I had on the first day. No, I hadn't shut down because I had responsibilities. I was still living in my mother and fathers house, since they had already paid off the mortgage, but I was sure I wouldn't be able to pay the gas and electricity bills on top of college fund for the future. I would have to move out soon, find something smaller. Thankfully, the week after that day, a group of men had come around, telling me that according to my parents will, everything they  had previously owned belonged to me, being the only one eligible out of Jungkook and I. Being over 18, I didn't simply have the option to be put into care, and there was no way I was letting Jungkook go. It's not like there was any family around to take us in. So now, I was even his legal guardian. Still, I couldn't, wouldn't end everything. If there was one thing I had learnt from my parents, it was to push through. Even when not for yourself, for others who care. Jungkook, my friends...

"Sunny," a masculine voice called, and I looked up to see the visitor.

My boyfriend. 

"Oppa," I stood, unable to bring myself to smile.

He'd been inspiring me to try. Even though I couldn't contemplate happiness, no way, right now, he'd been trying. This was the first time I had had a chance to speak to him properly since the day he turned up at my door; on my request. Initially, I had thought he'd leave, but he didn't shy away. It was almost too good to be true. He continued to text me, even without replies, call me every night, come knocking despite my stubbornness, for three of the five weeks; after which I finally agreed to talk it through with him...

He was there for me, he attended the funeral -  even if I didn't talk - he stayed by my side; he cared for me as if taking orders. The only constant. He was the only reason I bothered to attend school today.

He was the only reason I could bury him.

I turned my attention back to him now, as I noted his silence. I expected him to rush to me, smile at me, tell me how proud he was; I was anticipating his change. He had proven himself, and some part of me craved the caring of someone, anyone.

But, somehow even now something wouldn't let me relax. Maybe it was the way he had hurried me through the corridors that day, or the way he kept glancing towards the people who stared.

He approached me quickly, wrapping his arms around me and claiming my lips hungrily. I kissed him back momentarily, aching to feel something other than the emotional exhaustion. But as soon as his intentions blurred, I pulled away.

"Stop," I was vulnerable and hurt; and this was his response?

"Uhm," he complained, focusing on my neck instead, as I tried to shake the immense confusion that took hold of me in that moment.

I had been expecting a welcome, a hug, some reassurance. But there was not a word shared as he forced me up against the park bench.

"Yah, cut it out," I pushed him again, several times before he finally surrendered.

"I missed you," he shrugged, and I stared at him, confused. His eyes told a greater story than his actions, and suddenly something was different.

I expected him to ask me at least, maybe take my hand and reassure me. I hadn't slept a wink, and my eyes were swollen from the tears that I'd barely managed to stop this morning.

But he did nothing.

He glanced behind him, his eyes darting around the gardens as a crowd passed. I ignored them, accustomed to the looks I was getting, despite his obvious discomfort.

Maybe my safe haven, was not what it seemed.

​"Let's go out," he decided.

My face must have betrayed the shock, as I thought of what he was asking.

"It's been ages," he appealed, pushing close to me again. 

Ages?

I tried to remember the last time I had thought about doing something, anything for myself. 

"No," it wasn't even a question for me. I didn't see the point. Even staring at Myungsoo, as memories of my pushy, on and off again boyfriend came back, I suddenly felt lost.

Why would I want to?

 "Come on babe. You love it."

His words distracted me, bringing something forward. I love it. I loved it. Truth was, everything I used to like had meant nothing for a while now. There was no joy in most things I had once loved, but I had accepted that without question. Only as my boyfriend stared at me, did I realise how much had changed.

A part of me was dead. And it wasn't coming back.

"Myungsoo, move," this time I shoved him hard, and he stepped away, his eyes questioning.

"Remember when we trashed Yura's place on her 18th? Remember when we snuck you into that club?"

His words should have brought up memories; uncommon, but fun. Myungsoo had always encouraged me to be free, be stupid. But I thought he knew why I couldn't any more.

"I can't," I tried to find a trace of understanding in his gaze. "It's not the same any more. Nothing is the same."

My words became choked, as I began to recall the memories, but for all the wrong reasons. Getting in at 2am from Yura's, and Omma scolding me. My dad going to Myungsoo's house, in what at the time was completely unnecessary, and I'd even thought I'd hated them for it. But those times were over; I would never come home to them again. I would never have a chance to experience it.

I wasn't allowed to make my parents proud.

"Loosen up, Sungmi," he almost growled, and I snapped my watery gaze back to him.

"What?"

What was happening? This was not what I had seen, not what he had shown me.

"For God's sake why can't you be normal?" 

I froze. 

"It's been a month. You're not getting better. I can't spend five minutes with you without getting depressed. What am I supposed to do about it?"

My mouth fell ajar as I listened to his words, so foreign, so different from everything that had he had said since the moment it had happened. Ifelt my eyes begin to water as I opened my mouth to speak, but his words seemed to have pierced through me.

A flicker of guilt c