Begin to Be Free ♡

back to reality ⛤ #3

He keeps coming. He sits, he looks outside, he eats his burger. There hasn’t been any more conversation than necessary, Yoojung has made sure of it. When he sees Kyubin’s figure walk through the door he sets on making his meal and Kyubin gives an appreciative nod then takes his usual place.Each stare burns through him.Yoojung has seen him pause through the shutters and come back when it’s just the two of them. The place is kept open past its hours for times like that, but he doesn’t have to know. There’s something about this unspoken routine that feels like intimacy.

But even when he’s overwhelmed he knows Kyubin will be the last customer of the day, or at least the last person to actually sit down, and he can take his time doing the clean down. Sometimes Kyubin brings papers filled with numbers and graphs and they do their own work flitting around each other. He has managed to worm his way into his life once again.

As he counts the day’s earnings he didn’t notice Kyubin coming up to the counter. “I like what you’ve done to your hair.” He says and smiles in the old way with his eyes crinkling and pure intent. Yoojung melts. He brings a hand to the blonde strands and stays shocked at the disruption to their routine as Kyubin leaves and the wind slams the door shut. Grabbing a rubber band near the grill, he quickly ties his hair up and gets back to counting. He can’t concentrate, he hates how easy he is when it comes to Kyubin, how one compliment can make his heart flutter. His body is a traitor. Kyubin can go fuck himself if he thinks this is going to work, Yoojung doesn’t know what game he’s playing but he’s not going to lose. He can’t let go. Every memory is an icy stab and he’s done getting hurt. In the past he would turn over their time together in his head no matter how much it hurt, it was the only way he could see Kyubin again. If Kyubin wanted him back he should’ve come when he wasn’t bitter, back when his pillow was soaked with tears every night and he knew no one would love him again.

As soo as he got home He makes his way to the bathroom with the small bathtub and off-white tiles from the previous tenants, when he moved in he scrubbed them as hard as he could but they still remained tinged with yellow. With a creak, the taps open and splutter water into the tub as he sheds his clothes into a pile on the floor. He brought a book in with him, for company. He gets in the bath without testing the water first and lets the warm water do its job of loosening him up. The fan whirs as he sinks back and thaws. The air becomes more humid and he takes in a deep breath. He picks up the book and reads from where he left off last time. As the turns the page his finger is sliced by the pages and he watches as a thin stream trickles down his hand and drops into the water.