vengeance | woosan

38

short filler chapter. the book is ending soon 🥲

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"Guess who got dumped because of that damn video," Yeonjun scoffs, his laughter morphing into sobs. "Damn Lia." He buries his face in his hands, his tears staining the sheets. "Soobin thinks there's something between us."

"I'm sorry," I murmur, attempting to focus on my homework but failing as my mind wanders.

"It's not on you. Screw him for not trusting," Yeonjun mutters, kicking his feet in frustration. I gather my things, deciding to give him space. "I'll let you be," I offer before exiting the room, closing the door behind me as Yeonjun's cries grow louder.

His pain triggers my own tears as I recall the image of Wooyoung being dragged into the car, weeping. The situation worsened when someone recorded it and shared it online.

And just like that, we destroyed Wooyoung. His social media presence was in ruins—I confirmed this through an account he hadn't blocked.

Staring at my laptop, I try to focus on my homework, tasked with crafting a poem about jeans. The random object chosen by my teacher was meant to spark creativity in our descriptions.

However, it has been two days, and I find myself at a loss for words when it comes to writing about jeans. The blank page stares back at me, challenging me to delve into the essence of this seemingly ordinary yet significant piece of clothing.

Jeans, I titled the blank document.

I sigh," I don't even like wearing jeans." i muttered to myself, and shamelessly my mind wonders to wooyoung. He loved wearing ripped jeans, especially the black ones.

My fingers starts typing;

In threads of tales, these jeans have roamed,
Passed through hands, from home to home.
Each stitch a story, each tear a sigh,
A journey woven, beneath the sky.

They've hugged many legs, in every stride,
Yet now they fray, where time abides.
For they've been worn, oh, far too much,
Their fabric whispers, a silent touch.

But in their frays, they patiently wait,
For someone's care, to alter fate.
To mend their rips, with tender love,
Restoring grace, from high above.

So let us stitch, with careful hands,
These jeans, worn from distant lands.
For in their journey, worn and torn,
They yearn for care, to be reborn.

A tear falls down onto my laptop, as i realize that even though i didnt love jeans, i came to like them, they made look and feel good and still I didn't do job taking care of them. I ripped wooyoung apart, and i could never get him back. I just need to accept that.

I deleted the document again and wrote a different poem about jeans.

As I finish my homework, Yeonjun descends the stairs looking disheveled. "I don't want to mope around inside," he laments.

I meet his gaze, uncertain of what to say. "Say something, San," Yeonjun pleads.

"What do you want me to say, Yeonjun? I'm not in the mood for partying," I respond, my emotions in turmoil. I don't want to engage in activities I might regret later. Yeonjun lets out a sigh and reaches for his phone. "I'll call Chanhee; he'll know how to have a good time."

"Cool," I reply, but Yeonjun's pout doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions, and I can't help but roll my eyes at his persistence. "San!"

"I just want some time alone to focus on my damn homework," I snap, frustration seeping through my words. I meet his gaze squarely. "I'm failing some classes because I haven't been keeping up with my work, all because I've been too busy entertaining you."

"You're making it sound like I'm forcing—" I cut him off, grabbing my laptop. "San, let's talk."

"Go enjoy yourself or whatever. I need to get my work done," I declare, making my way upstairs. I'm aware that unloading all my pent-up anger on Yeonjun isn't fair, but it's something I've been holding onto tightly.

I close our door, worked on my next homework so I wouldn't be far behind anymore. Graduation was soon and that something I needs to focus on instead.

Immersing myself in schoolwork daily, I buried myself in academics to the extent that even Yeonjun knew not to disturb me. While he wasn't the cause of my depression, we shared an unspoken understanding that my studies served as a distraction.

It shielded me from the judgmental glances, the hushed murmurs, and the attempts of others to engage me in conversation. Politely excusing myself with a smile, I remained focused on my studies, a pattern I vowed to maintain until graduation.

With diligence, I toiled away, my thoughts occasionally drifting towards post-college life. Contemplating a move out of Seoul to Gangnam to work for a book publishing company, I envisioned a fresh start awaiting me.

Receiving a recommendation letter from my teacher, I was met with a warm smile. "Your essay on jeans was exceptional, and my contact at Gangnam would appreciate it as well. You've got this, San," she encouraged.

"Thank you," I murmured grateful, before exiting the classroom. For the first time in a month a felt a spark of happiness. This letter was a golden ticket to me. I smile big as i walk down the corridor, clutching the sealed letter, I glanced up and froze.

Time seemed to halt as we passed each other. His jet-black hair nearly made him unrecognizable, but our eyes locked in an instant. Wooyoung looks away, and i knew better not talk to him. With a heavy sigh, I exited the building, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging heavily in the air.

As I make my way to my car, a voice calls out my name, causing me to pause and turn around in surprise. It's Wooyoung. "Oh, hi," I manage to say, taken aback by his unexpected presence.

"you're poem." he started and i furrow my eyebrows," my poem..."

"about jeans, was it  about me." he asked, and i bite the inside of my cheek, and wooyoung looks at him pants,"You're never going to stop, huh." His eyes glistened.

"I wanted to, but you're all I can think about," I confess, my heart heavy with regret. "Wooyoung, that video haunts me because I didn't tell the whole truth."

"I know," Wooyoung acknowledges, averting his gaze. "I saw the original clips, but it doesn't change the fact that you only cared about me out of guilt."

I start to speak but falter, at a loss for words. Wooyoung continues, "See."

"No, at first maybe, but I've come to know you. I didn't reveal everything because I didn't want to face the ridicule of falling for you." i corrected but it sounded wrong and he looks at me unimpressed.

"When did you start falling for me?" Wooyoung's arms are crossed, his expression unreadable.

"It was at the museum. You showed me a side of you that I couldn't help but admire. It was a chaotic moment, but it was..." I trail off, caught in the intensity of the moment.

"Okay," Wooyoung interjects, cutting me off before turning to leave. I let out a sigh, feeling as though I'm back at square one in my attempts to move on from Wooyoung.

"Wooyoung," I call out as he walks away, "I wish we had met under different circumstances."