you couldn’t see the stars as well as you’d like, what with the towering skyscrapers and the eternal smog that seemed to loom over the city. instead, you were provided with the surrogate of neon lights, beckoning, plying you with alcohol and loud music. it had been a couple of hours since you’d left his home, slamming the door behind you so hard you felt it in your back teeth. from then until now, you had visited two bars and one supermarket, evident in the way your hips swayed, and how you cradled a brown paper bag in your arms, the clink from within the only thing prompting one foot in front of the other.

 

this time, the argument had been explosive. what had begun as hushed, serious tones over his worries had escalated, as it always did, into a full-scale screaming match. he was always the one left in tears though. you had tried to push him away so many times, tried to hurt him in a way that would stop him from coming back. it was that age-old melodrama. he deserved better than you. 

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there’s something lonesome about you / something so wholesome about you

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it was thinking back on these last few months, trying to bat away at unwanted hands, the slap of your high-tops on the pavement growing louder and more frequent, that it became your turn to cry. home had become unbearable, and school was even worse, and hansol was the only one who had ever bothered to listen. you weren’t even friends at school, truly. in fact, you had sneered when he first approached you, half asleep, at lunch. 

 

but you were lonely. so lonely, and his brown eyes looked so sad, because of the way that you stared hollowly at him, half in disbelief that somebody cared enough to wonder if you were okay, half disgusted that you had allowed anybody to see you like this. he sat down when your gaze finally flickered to the ground. but he never said a word, ignoring the heightened whispers and hungry glances cast their way.

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“i’m failing english.” you murmured begrudgingly from under a curtain of hair, fingers curled about a thick textbook, its title printed in an unfamiliar alphabet, one whose letters swam around in your brain, indecipherable, unruly. 

 

he blinked at you, nodding slowly, hearing the quiet strain in your voice. 

 

“i can help with that.”

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you’d spent a lot of time in his home after that. mornings, evenings, all weekend if you could, just to escape from the horrors of a home where you were ignored. initially, his quietness grated on you, just as your parents had. he could spend hours not speaking a word, until something caught his attention and then it would be nearly impossible to stop him. his eyes, once so sad, would become wild and his smile wide and excitable. you always were amused when he spoke, how his whole body moved when he talked, how he’d grab a hold of your arm when he remembered something else to tell you. 

 

in between the moments of studying and eating, you made it your mission to discover what he liked, just so you could fill the silences with his voice, and his laughter, and his singing, which you’d sometimes hear if his sister let you in without his knowing. 

 

but you’d blown it when he started to fall for you. when he asked if he could hold your hand on the way home from school, and when he’d sent you the link to a playlist he had made for you at five in the morning. when he first wet his cheeks after you’d screamed at him for caring too much. you just didn’t want him to be hurt when you inevitably screwed up. you cared too much as well.

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that’s why you were walking down a florescent street now, with alcohol-soaked skin, trying to forget how much you cared. but regardless of how much you drank, or how hard you tried to pretend he wasn’t the most valuable person in your life, his voice, all shades of gentle and sarcastic and excitable and loving, rang in your ears. 

 

“oh god, she’s here! pull up, pull up.” now, you were certain that you had imagined it that time, but no, there he was, drawing close inside his friend’s car, the window rolled down to reveal his face, only a little blotchy now. he clambered out before the wheels had ground to a halt, stumbling over uneven pavestones to wrap his arms around your bewildered body. while just a moment ago, you had imagined his voice telling you the sweetest things, now here he was, dark hair tickling your cheeks, heavy breath tickling your neck. 

 

“i was so scared…” he managed, your bodies shaking in tandem, though his voice broke before yours, to his dismay. around you, life went on, but for those brief moments, one cried softly into the other, hot, sticky tears and grasping fingers, rocking your figure back and forth against his, while his friend, the one with the long lashes, whispered explanations into his girlfriend’s ear as she sat in the passenger’s seat, her eyes filled with nothing but love and hope.

 

hansol bundled you into the back seat after he had composed himself, wrapping his jacket about your bare shoulders, and his arm around your waist. your head lay against his heart, as though hearing its steady beat might induce some sense of order into your inebriated, exhausted brain, but all it did was make you think about how badly you had hurt him. 

 

he lived and breathed as you did, only with a much bigger heart, a better heart, than you could ever dream of having. it was impossible not to taste a metallic tang upon your lips any time you made a slurred attempt to apologise, but, head slowly raised to his ear, you managed a hoarse whisper.

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“i’m so sorry. you deserve more than me. i’m not worth your time.”

 

before he replied, he pressed the lightest kiss to your temple, lingering and so thoughtful for a boy of seventeen years. there was no expectation in that kiss, no desire for anything more but your presence right then, as translucent and hopeless as it was. he must have been in love with you.

 

“every minute i spend with you is worth it. every second too. every moment is more than i could ever have asked for.”

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wise men say / only fools rush in / but i can’t help falling in love with you