Stray Kids Imagines

👑 Han Jisung

✴ The End Of Us ✴

Chance is one of the most taken-for-granted things in the world, often overlooked by people who do not see its importance until it's gone. Chances are given all the time—even to people who do not deserve them—yet only a few really know the value of it. Only a few go out of their way to claim the opportunity. Sometimes, people choose to let the golden moment thaw, disintegrating into wistful probabilities that slip through the cracks of their hands, never to be held again.

Because we always get another chance, right? No. Nowadays, we don't always have the privilege to get a second shot at the possibility that passed us by.

I was one of those people. I was foolish enough to let go of the chance to reach my dreams for something I thought was more paramount than anything else. I used to not think much of it. I used to tell myself that it was all going to be worth it. I used to tell myself I would not regret my decision because I believed everything will work out the way we planned. I stow away all of my what-ifs in a vault, sealed with emotions I prefer to remain locked in the back of my mind.

But during the comforting silence of the night, when everyone is supposed to be deep in their slumber, the hatch would open—and all of my hidden dreams and desires would come crashing through me like a rampaging wave, threatening to drown me with the whirl of yearning and nostalgia. And it leaves me with a nagging feeling that I can't shake away, similar to a mosquito bite aching to be scratched.

I could have had it all. Everything that I'd wanted.

The car purred to a stop, and the Uber driver glanced at me over his shoulder, clearing his throat, which jerked me out of my swirling thoughts.

"The payment is already sent," I said, tiredly hauling my bag and paperwork before climbing out of the vehicle. "Thanks."

The bleached-haired man nodded once, starting the ignition in the process.

I dragged myself into my house, hoping to get the rest my worn-out body needed. Exhaustion seeps through my bloodstream—a venom that concretes my veins, clogging my blood and corroding my bones. I feel as though I am inches away from passing out; the cold, hard pavement is the mattress waiting for me.

Working as an assistant in a marketing firm while studying business is certainly going to end me. Not to mention, I also tutor a certified brat for extra income. I badly wanted to quit—to just give up and let the universe take the wheel of my life. But I couldn't. I could not bring myself to do just that. So I was left with the option to endure. Endure as long as my body and mind could.

The light in the living room was already on, albeit the sun is still painting colors across the sky. I scoured the place with my eyes in search of the person who could hopefully mollify the exhaustion ravaging my system. He was nowhere to be seen, but the sign of his loitering in the room is evident in every corner. Empty soda cans and chip bags were left on top of the coffee table; his guitar lay forgotten on the sofa; his CDs were scattered on the floor; and a pair of socks were thrown off beside the staircase.

Another ounce of emotion stirred within me. Annoyance. Annoyance that I could not act upon because of the fatigue.

I trudged toward the kitchen when I heard a string of profanities ricochets off the walls.

My boyfriend, Han Jisung, sat on a stool, focused on his laptop placed on the kitchen island. The amount of focus he has made me stare at him. His brows were pressed together like ominous storm clouds, his fingers showed no hesitation in pushing the keys while his tongue poked the side of his cheek every now and then.

This behavior of his means he is in the midst of composing another song.

Jisung dreamed of being a famous singer and composer. Even before we became a couple, he was already intent on pursuing this passion. He participated in competitions, auditioned for agencies, and even did busking a while back in the belief someone will discover him.