{~ chapter 39 ~}

1.9K 114 201
                                        

💌
Long awaited spring
ft. Kabu for hollywood

"You want some more, 왜 자꾸만 널 가두려 하는건지"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

"You want some more, 왜 자꾸만 널 가두려 하는건지"

-

It usually took anywhere in between six to eight minutes from home to school if there was regular traffic for the pair that shared a home. But tonight, it damn sure felt barely over four seconds at most. Kunikuzushi even considered making an accidental turn to extend a few more pathetic minutes. In the end, he cursed strings at himself and drove straight as usual when the light shone green. The days were sure getting longer, as they were slowly heading towards March.

It's alright. What's the worst possible thing that could happen?


What if she just threw him out? Slammed the door in his face and told him never to come back? The image sent a chill down his spine, her eyes glaring, cold as steel, and he'd be left standing on her doorstep, swallowing down all the words he couldn't say. But what if she went further than that? What if she screamed at him, told him he was nothing but trouble, that he'd only ever brought ruin into her life? He'd think back to every time he'd pushed her, teased her, tried to get a rise out of her just to see her spark. But what if all she saw in him was the reason for every mess in her life? The thought twisted him up inside, his chest tightening. And how could he even stand there, just taking it all, while she let it all out? Could he even bear to see her like that, to be the cause of her anger? Then came the worst of it: what if she started crying? His mind scrambled at the idea of her tears, each one a punch to his chest. He'd never seen her cry—she was too strong, too stubborn, too much a product of that company's harsh training to let herself break in front of anyone. But what if he was the reason she finally did? What would he even do then? Stand there, speechless, while she crumbled, unable to reach out, afraid she'd just push him further away? And the thought of outright rejection? He could practically feel it—her dismissive look, that casual wave of her hand as she said, "Go find someone else to bother." Or worse, her voice cold and steady as she told him she didn't want anything to do with him. She'd be done with him, like all of this was some foolish game, a bet she was eager to lose just to be rid of him. How was he supposed to bounce back from that? Act like he didn't care, like her words didn't sink straight into his core and twist the knife a little deeper. Maybe she wouldn't even yell. Maybe she'd just look at him with disappointment, that quiet, haunting look that said she'd expected better from him, and he'd know he'd let her down. That was the thing he couldn't shake—that he might be the reason her walls went up a little higher, her heart a little colder.

Alright, fine. Lot's of things could happen.

After sitting in the car for an indefinite amount of time, (a flat five minutes) he finally opened the door and stepped out onto the concrete ground. A few cars down below the street parking, he heard sounds of another person exiting their vehicle. The two locked eyes and immediately averted their gazes. Some comical timing this was. Y/n was two cars down, stiffly taking her bag out from the passenger seat and fumbling for the keys. They awkwardly came into the house together, each departing to their own room to change and unpack.

➜  " 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 𝐒 "    𝐑. 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞Where stories live. Discover now