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❝Our body is full of organs but we always feel empty

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Our body is full of organs but we always feel empty.

— ❀ —

That starry night, apparently, a pretty hilarious thing happened. Such a shame that I don't really remember it, just bits of it.

I went alone the second time I visited his pub. I ordered fried chicken and soju. While serving me the food, he said: "By the way, I prefer Messi over Ronaldo." with a witted smile tugged at his lips. He had a strong New York accent.

My brown eyes widened. I gave him a questioning look, totally confused about what he was talking about.

"You don't know what's going on, right?" he tried to hold his laugh in.

In answer, I shook my head, signing him that I had no clue what he was telling me.

"You asked if I like Ronaldo the last time you were here," he chuckled when he saw how lost I was.

I got really embarrassed and swore I would never drink again. But we all know promises keep getting broken all the time.

Anyway, I recalled the scene when I awkwardly gave him the stupid question. What even was I thinking? I was so pathetic.

I'm not sure if I should tell you but here we go. He said I even grabbed his sleeve with a determined look on my face when I asked if he likes Ronaldo.

Imagine, how did he feel when a stranger did this to him. Awkward, right?

He politely asked me to let him go. I didn't realise I was holding him all the time, so I loudly screamed with a frightened expression like I saw a giant spider and then yelled "I'm sorry!" whilst banging my head towards the wooden table multiple times.

As a cherry on the top of the cake, my friend Elizabeth wanted him to state if I am pretty or not. Luckily, he didn't answer and walked away.

Just like he did the final time. Maybe walking away is his master skill.

The second time I came, we also 'officially' introduced to each other.

He did that after I kept apologising to him for what I've done on my birthday. "Nah, it's fine. Call me Seokjin or Jin, by the way. Don't use formal language with me," he ruffled his dark brown hair, blowing me his infamous kiss.

Your father was cool and funny. He made me laugh whenever I was down.

I almost told him my real name. I remember how I awfully stuttered: "My name is De-Allison."

You see how much I wanted to get close to him; I even made a fake name. Maybe our whole relationship was fake, too.

That night, I got really drunk. He wanted me to go home, but I protested, whining like a little child. I was lucky your father was such a patient person and had the guts to deal with someone like me.

Instead of kicking me out on the streets so he could go to his sweet home, he brought more bottles of soju and gave me a shoulder to cry on.

I remember I told him everything about my problems. How I felt lost, how I didn't know the purpose of my life anymore, how I thought I could never find happiness again, he heard it all.

He was unbelievably kind and empathic. I wondered if he is even real. I seriously considered him an angel.

But, my precious child, I wish I knew your father was actually the Devil himself.

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