Drabble Series | Chen
The library is still, suspended in the furious quiet of intense studying and ruffled pages. Typing echoes. Iced coffees are slowly sipped. Pens scribble across fresh paper.
Your phone catches your attention, new text message vibrating on the mahogany table. Instantly, you pretend you don’t notice, that you don't feel the tremble that quickens your heartbeat. His name lights up the screen, one more invitation, and you swallow thickly.
The phone buzzes again, an urgent reminder, and you clench your fists in concentration.
"Aren't you gonna answer?" Jongdae asks nonchalantly, highlighting new notes in his textbook.
"No, I think we should focus." You try, biting the inside of your cheek.
Jongdae doesn't buy it-- of course he doesn’t. Knowing eyes seize you up, and before you can do anything, his gaze locks on your phone screen lighting up one last time.
You hold your breath. A disarray of emotions filter over Jongdae's features and you feel the air around you both turn cold.
"You called him, didn't you?" Jongdae asks, a confused stare peering over his laptop. The moment holds, stale as the silence expands between you and the words get stuck between your teeth.
You keep your eyes on your notes, already feeling the defense bubbling in your throat. Its acidic, the shame, burning pink on your cheeks. You try to say something, anything, but you both remember too well how often you go looking for love in dark places.
"You can't keep doing this." Jongdae says suddenly, pushing away from the table. The unexpectedness of his anger lashes across you like a slap to the face.
You look up at him with wide eyes.
"You can't keep calling up terrible people just because you think you deserve to be treated badly." Jongdae snarls, slamming his laptop shut.
The heat creeps across your cheeks but before you can say anything, Jongdae begins to gather his notes with a new animosity.
"All Chanyeol knows how to do is treat you like shit." he snaps. "And I'm tired of picking up your broken pieces."
Jongdae hauls his backpack over his shoulder and storms away. You're speechless, indignant tears swelling in your eyes, but you know better than to follow him.
You know he's right-- and maybe that's the part that hurts the most.
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