“I said I couldn’t do it anymore. Not that I didn’t love you.” His voice was low, pleading, but his words made no sense.
“It’s the same thing!” My voice rose, and I clenched my fists, swallowing hard. “Get up off the damn floor!”
“I need you to hear me,” he said in a tone so even, I began to wonder if I’d missed some signs, that somehow, I had misinterpreted something crucial. But, no, I knew I hadn’t. I hadn’t imagined our last conversation, just like I hadn’t imagined the last three, fucking years!
I raised my hands to my eyes and blinked furiously.
“Jihoon, I’m tired. I don’t want to do this. Remember? That’s what you said.” My voice took on a sharp edge as his words came back to me with sudden, unbidden clarity.
“‘We’re just making this harder than it should be. It’s too much. I don’t want this anymore.’ Those are your words.”
He just nodded, like he was ready to accept whatever I threw at him, and somehow that just pissed me off more.
“For fuck’s sake, Jihoon. What do you want me to say? I don’t understand why you’re here. We’re done, please leave.”
“I need you to understand.”
“I don’t know if I can hear you say those words to me again!” I wailed, only to slap a hand over my mouth as soon as the words escaped.
He moved like he was going to get up, reaching for me as if he couldn’t help himself, but I shoved my hand out to ward him off, and he settled back down, gripping his thighs. It looked like it hurt.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
I paused. “What are you talking about?”
He took a breath, and it felt like the whole world inhaled with him.
“I was being blackmailed. They knew about you. They had photos of you – of us. They were clear, and you were identifiable in them all.”
The world exhaled, and suddenly my lungs were too empty. I staggered, and went down on one knee, gasping.
He was at my side in a second, reaching for me as if I was drowning. I didn’t try to push him away, I just held on, barely registering that this was the first time in more than three years that I’d touched him.
I allowed myself to slump against him, briefly indulging in the warm expanse of his chest, even as I felt the stiff material of his suit against my face.
I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself, and then I pulled away, putting enough space between our bodies that I no longer felt the pull between us.
“Tell me everything.” I balled my hands into fists, feeling the way my nails dug into my palms.
“Okay,” he agreed quickly.
He sat back on his heels, watching me warily, as though I might bolt. I wanted to. I didn’t want to hear anything that broke my view of the world, because I’d spent so long gluing it back into place. Now though, I was barely holding myself together.
But I also needed to know why my future had derailed. I owed it to myself to find out if… if I could forgive him. And me. For every way I’d blamed myself.
“It was just before Halloween” he said, reaching for one of my hands and rubbing soft circles into my skin until I unclenched it. I didn’t pull away.
“She heard me talking to Minjae after practice. We were talking about you.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression. It was the kind of smile you wear when you remember a mistake so big it changed your whole life, and you can’t help wondering how things might have been different.
“I was talking about the plans I wanted to make, so you could come home.”
The way he said ‘home’ made my heart clench, because it didn’t sound like he meant Korea. It sounded like he meant him.
“After Jae left, she came into the studio. That’s when I knew you were right about everything.”
I frowned and pulled my hand out of his to hold it up, a barrier between us.
“Wait, stop. Who’s ‘she’, and right about what?”
