Love is something uncertain. Something mysterious and equally dangerous. A hole you would want to fall in. Something that invites all giddy feelings.
But above all. Love is pain. It is the withering of emotions. The slow process of losing its sparks. The all-too-familiar ache.
Love is never selfish, it is forgiving in every way, joyful in its own and abundant with hope.
But love runs out.
Humans are incapable of predicting things. Of guessing what the future holds, or what will happen in the next seconds. Just mere observers of our fates without the power to change nor stop them. Except that humans can feel. And maybe Yujin’s just like the rest. Nothing special, only an occupier of a messed-up destiny.
She knew how slowly; the light lost its brightness. How slowly, the nights become lonelier, colder and scary. How a simple pillow replaced the presence of an important someone. She's not dumb. She’s just afraid. A coward, a liar, a forgiver and a lover.
And maybe, just maybe, what she's been feeling is true after all because nothing hurts more than a heart breaking even before its beholder knew. And the only way to comfort a broken hard is to heed it with lies.
Just like any other person, Yujin had doubts. She thought about things more than twice. Doubting the words her heart tells her. Or the things her eyes witnessed firsthand. And who can blame her for it? After all, we’re just mere humans embraced by constant varied emotions, crippling us from seeing the truth: the reality of everything.
One. The way Wonyoung last looked at her was blank, different from all the ones before. Her eyes no longer hold the stars. They are dark, dull and lonely. And no matter how much Yujin wanted to paint them again, she no longer can. Because she’s gone. Her side of the bed is empty, her sweet strawberry scent no longer lingers, it’s just the same old citrus scent. The one that suffocates, that kills.
Two. She has no one to blame but herself. She was lost, engulfed by the chilling warmth of youth. She’s alone. Too many mistakes and regrets and yet Wonyoung was the best out of everything.
Three. Everything was said that it feels too empty. The one that can’t be cured. The one that prisons you. No longer does her voice bring comfort. They are loud, sharp and keen. Too clear for everything she wants to say. Too sensible for Yujin’s heart not to discern.
Four. The last and the first. It was meant to happen, meant to breakaway. The last of their-thing and the first of her-thing. Running away was not a choice nor holding on; even before Yujin can hold, the grip has already slipped. Way too fast for a heart who is yearning for a miracle. A miracle for a fool.
“One, two, three and four. How long have I been counting for something I can't see, something I am forbidden to feel?” Yujin asked herself. “One to four, did she really bid goodbye?”
Would something change if she was brave? She’s long gone.
“I wonder if you miss me but I am afraid that maybe you will never need me again, Wonyoung. For the last time, I hope you’re happy.”