“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
he’s a sight she recognizes, this scenario all-too familiar: here he stands, a tangible being, the devil she so often thinks of, and the soft glow of light streaming from behind her glints subtly off his smoldering gaze, highlighting a stare of defeat over triumph. although his cultivated charm does not shine as brilliantly, the defined line of his jaw worked with frustration rather than the attempted stifle of an amused grin, he is unmistakable, debonair in the way he is all sharp lines and smooth faces, a prism of deep forethought and the captivating manner he encompasses himself in. funny how she tries to look closer when she knows seunghyun even in darkness, the contours of his face, the tones of his body.
too many memories resurface: the accidental bruises she’d kiss tenderly; his knuckles, smelling sometimes of soap or chopped celery, pressed against her cheek as she holds the other in her palms, worrying over how little he’d worn on a chilling day; his goofy smile when she says something sweet, hers that follows when she realizes how cheesy she sounds. she knows it all, and perhaps she remains the only retainer of those recollections, now gone and past, a mere afterthought of what they’d shared. damn – she can still identify the breakage of his voice when he’s upset, the wetness of his eyes when he tries to suppress the distinct biting prickle, the quiet whisper that follows when her gaze locks with his, uttering barely a word before she has him in her arms.
yet in this moment she stands still, a universe of chemistry suspended in the small distance between them – inquisition and silent words swim in her eyes as she takes in his bedraggled state, something foreign about his presence and the way he looks back at her, leaving eunjae to wonder if she’s truly qualified to claim she knows him anymore. perhaps in this period of time they’ve become too different, severed ligaments of a conjoined being, beautiful but inglorious.
eunjae, certainly, has changed since then.
a year prior and she would’ve greeted his words with a smile, an exuberant giggle probably arisen on her lips as he’d scoop her up in two long strides, strong hands beneath a slight back, a soft kiss by way of greeting. one year before and her heart would’ve still been pounding rapidly until it’d begin melting; his effortless charisma, the slope of his nose brushed against hers, his deep, masculine voice she would’ve hushed with peppered kisses, only to pause mid-affection for him utter her name once more. and here they are: twelve months into what she’d thought was a clean break-off, only for him to appear again, as spontaneous as a limb that regenerates on a starfish – meaning, not as unsolicited after all. the sight of him burns her heart in an entirely unfamiliar way.
glasses frame the pensive sadness reflected in her eyes, and it’s instinct for a hand to push them up her nose until they settle once again in a position that gives her full access to the world around her. still, they’re much too big for her face – he’d told her that when she first got them, and if not for the situation, she would give a wry laugh. legs hidden under silk pants, she’s suddenly conscious of the plain t-shirt that hangs loosely around her body, bundled in the back with a hair elastic, hitched up slightly where it reveals the band of her pajamas. as if this is the time or place to feel embarrassment – he’s already acquainted with much of her, attractive or not. but the dry smile escapes this time, small enough that he does not notice when half her face is still shadowed. after twelve fucking months of missing him, of debating back and forth with an invisible manifestation of herself whether to delete or keep, of replacing everything replaceable when she’d noticed it still had the scent of him, he shows up now. twelve months and the last few of them had brewed bitterness, a heartbroken resentment, and now she’s become passive, she’s grown restless. she’s made peace with her feelings, a treaty for the weak to stay weak, a farewell to a life of vulnerability and innocence.
but it is human nature to be taken by surprise; fingers still clasped around the doorknob, a stirring wind carrying into the apartment, she doesn’t break her stare with the man she once loved, and, eventually, learned to fall out of love with. anywhere else ( stupidly, she wants to mention that she’s always been his anywhere else, the home outside of home, but that’s surely changed by now ) and she would’ve been less compromising, anywhere else and she would’ve called elsewhere a place for him to stay.
yes, much has changed since then. but still, such tribulations cannot alter an emotion that’s deeply rooted inside her heart, a tenderness innate and precious, ingrained in her very veins.
she nods, slowly, without questions. “come in,” comes a breathy whisper, a gesture of the hand. her bare feet pad against cold wooden floorboards, leading into a home that appears barely lived in. back then, she would’ve been desperate for sleep, longing for the the sweet pleasure of rest without dreams. pathetic how she knows she will disregard the necessity just to care for him tonight. a quiet boil erupts from the brewing tea on the stove, and steam begins to cloud up a sliver of the cold darkness.
“i – it’s nice to see you.”
