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•• ━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━ •• Eleven| Yugyeom
•• 2014 ••
"Where were you last night?"
I looked up from my breakfast, chewing softly on a piece of an egg when I caught sight of her sharp gaze and subdued demeanor. I knew her calmness wasn't something to take lightly, as she was always so cheerful and hyper.
I remembered the late night vividly, red and blue strobe lights panning over the crowd of fresh adults of all sizes and shapes, the sight of a hidden face on a tantalizing frame.
I remembered the heat, the dance of my loins as I swayed with someone else, dancing to the devil's rhythm until I was forced to my knees while brought to new heights.
What I didn't remember, was why or what prompted me to do it.
So, not in the mood to wreak havoc in our small studio apartment, I smiled and bared my teeth, ready to sink them into the sweetness of her naivety and everlasting trust.
"Just out with the guys. We had a couple of drinks."
She nodded, bringing her hand up to rest under her chin. "How was it?"
I really wasn't in the mood to talk much today, and I hoped that she would pick up on it and cease all communication until I could wrap my mind around facing her after what I had done. But always, as she was so busy trying to be everything I was not ready for, she failed to pick up on simple, yet subtle cues.
"What?" I asked, my tone a bit more pointed than I knew she would have liked.
"What do you mean, what? I was just asking a question, Gyeomie. You don't have to be so defensive," Her voice had quieted towards the end, her face falling as she crawled back into her shell.
I looked down at my bowl, sighing as I felt the prickle of guilt etching my skin. Still, knowing that I was in no position to act so sweetly after my dance with my demons, I did what I did best.
Deflect, distract, and destroy.
I studied her face, seeing the fragments of sadness and longing. She looked at me as if she could not comprehend who I was, what this harsh, cold person had come from. I found that, in the midst of the morning dew and purified air of our shared home, I didn't know either.
"Your hair is different," I told her, knowing she liked it when I pointed out the small details and paid attention to her.
She smiled softly, bringing her hand up to twist a curl. The side of my lip went up, sickly enjoying the way she looked so unsure of herself, desperate for the approval of someone close to home.
