BAD RELIGION
It always comes back to this.
This is the story of her slippage: he pulls her close, she gets attached, he says she never should’ve let herself get this far, so she leaves. Credits roll over, the tape repeats again, and she gets up in the morning feeling like she’s left half of herself behind, another novelty on his bedside table. There’s only so much she can say: it was never supposed to be this way; or, it shouldn’t have come to this. She runs through the excuses like clockwork, like denial. The fact of the matter is that she’s foolish. Nothing good comes from playing with fire, and if Oh Taeho is anything at all, he’s the matchstick that sets her aflame.
Witching hour and she’s past the point of no return. A mixture of tequila, smoke, and bad decisions: at some point, they all taste the same on her tongue. It’s why she’s standing here, hand poised to knock at the door of his hotel room, the resolution of a beck and call that she never should’ve heeded. There’s a part of this that feels right, oddly enough; a commitment to the steep fall of her night, from the top of the world to feeling like she’s hit rock bottom. May as well give up the ghost to a familiar sin.
God, does she (not) want to see his face.
A breath in, a breath out. When dealing with her devil, it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Presentability is an afterthought — unnecessary effort, in her opinion. She’s got nothing to prove when she’s around him; not anymore, anyway. That, in the haze that makes up them, is the only thing coming through crystal clear.
But when she sees him on the other side of that door, she forgets the world, if only for a moment. Guess there’ll never be any pretending that there’s a part of her that cares, that wants, for him. “Hi,” is what she says, for lack of anything else to say, walking into the room, arms crossed, so self-aware of her own vulnerability it’s infuriating. “Had a good night?”
“This isn’t anything.” It’s punctuated, but her words are empty. As if they’re out there to convince someone that isn’t her. No such thing as nothing when it comes to this, to her, to the games they play. “I — maybe I should go.”
Chile ‘19 — @idtaeho







