Evolution of a lover's heart | jjk

19

To shield it, he pushes his inked arm into his side, trying to angle it just right. But it's hard, and no use. You've seen it already, and besides, you're not even looking at him at the moment.

You were never supposed to see it. He thought he'd never see you again, and trying to explain the most recent tattoo is something he really doesn't even want to attempt. But you asked, and not replying will only make it more suspicious.

"Uh, well, it's a funny story, uh... you know there are a lot of people out in the world, and, uh, some are just so, so lovable, you know? And, uh, others, maybe aren't meant for the same thing, uh, same kind of love, and maybe they were born without that typical red heart, but if they want to, and if they try hard enough, maybe something good can still come from it?"

Five years is a long time. Seasons have come and gone, some more soothing for his mind than others. In the grand scheme of things, of life, what happened in college was just a bump in the road. It was a done deal, finished. Maybe a little frayed around the edges, but without any loose threads. Three months, a confrontation, and a few heartbreaks, that was all it was. There was no use in being hung up on it because it was done.

So when Jeongguk found himself at the familiar studio two years ago, the needle breaching his skin to touch up some of the designs on his arm, he couldn't tear his eyes from the blank spot above the swallow.

All he needed to do was to lower his expectations.

On himself; he would never be anyone to deserve someone like you, but there wasn't anyone else like you, so what was the point? And on love; he would probably never manage to get something like that again, and maybe that was okay?

If he could remind himself to lower his expectations, perhaps the road to happiness wouldn't be so long and steep. It wasn't all his fault, he was simply not meant for that kind of thing. Realizing that would hopefully lessen his guilt, and he could strive to be a better, happier person. At least in theory.

That's the meaning behind the tattoo—the greyscale anatomically correct heart that's long dead and a bit rotten. It'll decompose into the earth and maybe grow into something else, something better. Like grass. Or a flower. Not exactly the kind of heart you'd suggested he fill the empty space with all those years ago, but a heart, nonetheless.

It's a grim image, sure, but if it's one thing Jeongguk doesn't want, it's for you to feel sorry for him. Even more, he can't have you think that he wants you to think that he feels sorry for himself. But, unfortunately, and despite his forced smile and lighthearted tone, you see right through him.

"Did someone say that to you?" you ask so gently, and in the tone that pulls on whatever rotten heartstrings he has. "That you're not meant for love? That you don't have a heart?"

Just like last time he cooked for you and you spoke with that voice, he purses his lips together to suppress the tears. But he finds it difficult. It's just something about you. You and that gentle voice that makes him feel even more shame for speaking badly about himself, even though he's just being realistic.

What does he say? There's no real use in trying to maintain that lighthearted tone. You didn't buy it anyway.

"Well, uh, I don't—I don't want you to think that I want you to feel sorry for me. And it's kinda complicated... I forgot to cover it up today. You were never supposed to see it."

Luckily, he manages to curb the wave that had threatened to burst his dams, and the tears get blinked away. All that's left is a heavy sadness, but the kind that's peaceful instead of frantic.

Jeongguk stirs the sauce. The ball's in your court now, but he's feeling strangely calm. Sad, defeated... but calm.

"You're still feeling guilty, aren't you?"