Rocky || Choi San

5

🍸

DAYS after days, nights after nights.

Everything was all about those butterflies flying freely inside your stomach, the feeling of your heart about to jump right out of your chest, and the cold touch of his black leather jacket on your skin that came along with the warmth of his addictive and intoxicating breath fanning your flushed face.

Everything was all about San and the things he does to you. 

You've accepted more of San's invitations that consisted of café and arcade hopping and afternoon drives, more than Wooyoung's party invitations.

Do you feel guilty? Not in the slightest. But you know Wooyoung would most probably sulk when he knows. Do you regret it? Also, no.

Do you want to stop? Never.

Although being with San sometimes feels like you're sprinting forward and jumping right off a cliff unprepared, you don't want everything to stop. Whatever this thing going on between you is called.

Is this how friends hang-out? You think so, but something deep inside you tells you it isn't just as friends. It's something more. Nonetheless, you wouldn't want to know. It's quite scary and honestly, it makes you jittery.

One of these days, you might need liquid courage before you outright spill whatever you're feeling towards San. That is, if your hunches are correct all along…

That you might just be experiencing the feeling called….love. 

On San's end, however? You don't know if he's feeling the same type of way. But oh, you wouldn't hope. Certainly not.

🍸

The liquid courage plan came sooner than you expected.

With your head spinning, heartbeat hammering, mind hazy and clouded with various countless thoughts, all good and bad — you dial his number.

As soon as he accepts the call on his end, you don't let him speak. Your slurred speech beats him right through it.

"Haii, San!"

"Elle? It's three in the morning, what are you-"

"Listen." You grit your teeth. "I have something to tell you sweetie!" That endearment coming out of you was already a sign for San — you were drunk.

"Elle, where are you right now? Are you with someone?" You could hear worry laced in his voice. It made you chuckle.

"No." You say, a hiccup leaving you right after. "I'm drunk, all alone, Sannie!" You squealed, like it was the greatest thing you did.

You hear San let out a curse before he asks you where your exact location is. You told him your GPS is on and shushed him. Because you really had to tell him, or else, you wouldn't be able to once you break down and only your cries will be heard for the days to come.

"I fucking love you." You say, leaving no room for arguments within yourself whether that's what you really felt or not. 

Silence met you on the other end. And then, San speaks.

"Look, Elle. I'll fetch you there, okay? Wait for me-"

Did San just brush off your confession?

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said I fucking love you!" You shouted over the phone, not caring about the stares you're getting from the store employees nor the hot tears running down your cold cheeks.

You hear a series of groans and incoherent noises from San's line but all he says is, "Hang up, and tell me this when you're sober."

And then he ends the call.

Your lips quivered as your phone slipped out of your hand. A unique numbness taking over your body.

Two heartbreaks in one night. Ha.

A bittersweet chuckle escapes you as your mind drifts to your now permanently damaged home — both parents gone for real, leaving the building empty and cold.

You've seen it coming. After that series of push and pull between your mother and your father — they'll eventually get tired and realize there's nothing worth fighting for, nothing to hold them back to stay in a wrecked home.

It hurts because it meant you weren't a good enough reason for them to stay. Since the beginning, you knew it wasn't repairable.

And maybe, just maybe, you decided to put a blind eye to it. And maybe, your parents did the same but now, they've woken up. Saw things clearer.

That love, love isn't as great, strong and powerful as others proclaim it to be.

Because if it was, you wouldn't be here getting drunk all by yourself, crying over a family that doesn't exist now and a budding love that once was there for the guy with the black leather jacket and whose breath smelled of mint and smoke.

All hopes were crushed for you.

However, before you pass out, you hear the ringing of a bell and then, you see light before you for the last time that night.

You feel it. The familiar mix of coldness and warmth as you hear the whispered words of,

"I'm here, I'm sorry."

Somehow, it was soothing.