By tonight, he would no longer be in Seoul.
He would no longer be beside her. Just like that. Almost immediately. Without so much as a sliver of regard for her.
The scent of his cologne, the taste of whisky on his lips — would she ever hover her lips before the golden skin of his visage? and Christ — she loved his fragrance, intoxicated with every inhale. It was a Christmas present: Burberry, she recalled. It was as lovely a scent, but it was the beholder who had her consumed.
Could she soon forget all of these intricate details of such a make of man? The curvature of his lips, their imprints on her porcelain neck, the way they slurred her name. Forgetting was something that needed to be done. Forgetting was something she feared.
Kim Youngkwang. A man she couldn’t quite describe her feelings for, but a man she cared for deeply nonetheless. A man that made her feel adored, underlying intentions or not. Perhaps she loved him. Perhaps she lusted after him. Perhaps this was merely her naivete: a lamb any lion would revel indulging in. For the first time in her life, she hadn’t bothered caring, allowing herself to fall deep into this crystallized rabbit hole of theirs. He adored her; she adored him. They adored one another, as cold and apathetic both parties appeared. And that was the end of that. For the past year, she hadn’t bothered concerning herself with the exterior of their relationship, rather the most intimate of connections they possessed.
And oh — how desperately had she felt the urge to rest her head on his shoulder, play with his chocolate tresses and whisper monotonous sweet nothings.
She would have to wait an entire calendar year and then some. But how desperately she wanted this form of support now. And tomorrow. And the day after that.
Perhaps it was foolish of the female to overreact as she had the night prior. Rather than calmly accept the news and make use of the few hours that remained, she allowed her hurt to drive a wedge between the two. A foolish 20-year-old girl.
“I’ve decided to fulfill my military service, Seul-ah.”
A tad left-field for an opening sentence.
“… I’m set to leave tomorrow.”
Silence.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”
“You’d overreact.”
Pause.
“I’m sorry.”
Pause.
“… I won’t see you off.”
“Stop these dramatics.”
Silence.
“I have more important matters to tend to.”
And that’s how yesterday had ended. Today her beloved would board a train and wouldn’t return for an approximate eternity. It was still early morning, and a hanging clock before her ticked endlessly. Time was passing with even the slightest of her actions. No — time wouldn’t stop, and it would soon close this window that allowed for their last moment of intimacy. She could still taste the passion of his lips from the night before; the urgency to have her relinquish her ‘ice princess’ facade for fourteen hours at most. Twelve of those had been wasted in the confines of her bedroom, sifting through collections of photos and letters she had addressed to him.
Less than two remained. Two hours. Two opportunities to run to him, to feel his titanium arms enclose around her once more.
Swallowing her pride, leaving her image behind, Yang Seul called for her driver with distress laced in every word of command.
A once-crowded platform full of loved ones bidding their sons/brothers/husbands adieu had since dwindled down. The train had arrived and was inching to take off onto its destination, the marine base. 45 minutes or less remained. It seemed like less as most of all men had already shuffled inside the train cars. Only a few remained, expressing their final farewells.
Youngkwang was on the verge of boarding the train, in all his glory. Her heart begun to palpitate wildly at the sight of him, yet she stood there frozen. 45 minutes, but in reality she had 10 at most. Before she allowed herself to spend 14 months sulking in regret, she called his name as loud and as desperate as ever.
