Little Black Notebook | Editing | ✓

12

We're closing into the end, everyone... Sad but true :(

Thank you for all the support! LBN was at #900 in Short Story a day ago and is #880 today! I'm totally amazed :O Because of that, I tried my best to write a little bit longer chapter.

Please vote/comment. I hope you like the chapter as much as I do!

*Make sure to turn on the optional music above to complete the chapter atmosphere*

The days are steadily getting warmer and longer. More often you can hear birds chirping in the background and smell of spring rolls spreading throughout the streets of the city. Everything seems to be falling back in its usual place, following its usual Circadian rhythm.

Days passed and I didn't see Dean in, around nor out of school. It's like he evaporated into thin air. I can't lie, it worries me. And from all that I've got to learn about him, I still didn't know what to expect.

 Is he skipping school? Did he leave the city?

The hues of green startled me at first, sun hitting the leaves and making them brighter to the eye. I protect my eyes from the rays of sunshine, making my way through the grown grass, just like I did weeks ago. In front of me, a cherry blossom tree, its flowers already fell down, leaving a thick pink blanket on the ground.The path is now well known to me, and I'm sure I wouldn't get lost even if I were to sleepwalk through the place. 

He looks at me in disbelief, holding his notebook like it's plagued with some kind of disease at first. But after a while, his grip strengthens on it and he puts it in the back pocket of his black jeans.

"Is this why you called?"

We look at each other for a second before he turns his gaze away from mine. Somehow, from his voice, I could recognize a hint of disappointment, resignation even.

"Yes and no," I say, my gaze still attached to him, observing his every move carefully. The way his brows furrow and relax every time he's deep in thought, a light breeze blowing his black hair in his face. 

He looks at me "Then?"

The truth is, I didn't know him that well. I wish I did, but I didn't. And I realized no matter how long I held his notebook hostage, I'll never learn about him as much as I wanted to in the first place.

One thing that crossed my mind the most is that he said himself that he's moving frequently. If he was about to move, would he even let me know? Would I be able to return him his notebook that he cherishes so much?

I needed to do it as soon as possible. And I did.

Sitting down next to the tree trunk, I look around to see the beams of grass swaying back and forth along with the large numbers of flowers, of which I could recognize exactly the ones he was telling me about.

I look at the trunk, still puzzled about its big hole in the middle. 

If he was here, he would definitely explain why is it like that. 

The hole is small, surrounded by numerous wrinkles that added character to it. It looks the same as the last time I saw it, except the last time I didn't pay as much attention to it as I am now.

Just as I was about to look away, I notice a trace of pastel pink color inside. First I thought it must've been a leftover flower for sure, but I decide to stand up anyways to take a look inside. And indeed, instead of a flower, I find a post-it note attached to it.

Feeling somewhat curious, I detach the little note with care and proceed to read what was written on the paper.

Goodbye, yours truly,

The note blatantly ended right there. I crumple it in my fist and drop it on the floor, my heart dropping along with it too, down my guts and straight through the ground.

"Goodbye." my words tremble as I breathe out.

"Where are you?" Her voice becomes more alarmed, and I could feel her starting to panic. "Yuna, where are you?!"

I feel something touch the top of my head. I reach out, and in my hand, I find a cherry blossom flower. The last cherry blossom flower that was on the tree.

*

I didn't know which hurt more. My heart, lungs or my pride.

The fact that I shared something with a person who I thought I trusted, in return of that same person doing the same thing. The fact that I just ran my life away just because my gut feeling was telling me something was wrong. Or the fact that I am about to knock on the doors of a family I don't even know, except the little, rather not so detailed things Dean told me.

Taking deep breaths to steady myself, I press the doorbell exactly three times. The vibrant sound of the bell could've been heard all the way to where I'm standing.

After a few moments of just standing there, I decided to ring the doorbell one more time. Just as I'm about to do so, the door creaks open, and an unknown face pops out.

"Hello, may I help you?" A cautious yet easygoing voice rings through the air.

I couldn't help myself but stare at the woman in front of me. 

Her mid-long, flat jet-black hair that's framing her oval, pale face, her impossibly small frame with long, skinny limbs, her casual, from head to toe black clothes. I could see why this woman wanted to adopt Dean in the first place. Everything about them is similar, except their eyes. The warmest set of dark brown, almost black pupils stared at me intently, waiting for me to say something.

I finally compose myself. "Is Dean home?"

A few moments of silence pass before I start to wonder... Did I get the wrong house?