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"It's the unknown that draws people."
-E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

 Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

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"I just don't get what's wrong with me," You pouted, leaning your chin on the table. "Do you think I'm really destined to be single?"

Seokjin, but you mostly call him Jin for short, your neighbour and childhood friend, closed his book and sighed, "Here we go again. . ."

"Maybe something really is wrong with me. But I— what the hell is wrong? I have already dated so many people but nothing seemed to work out." You ran your hands through your hair frustratedly as Jin nodded uninterestedly.

"Y/N, maybe it's because you've been rushing too much to be in a relationship? I don't know, but I think great things take time." He sipped on the orange juice you gave him. "Don't sweat it. Just wait, maybe now isn't the time."

You raised an eyebrow at him and rolled your eyes. "Jeez, look at you being Mister Wise-Pants just because you already got yourself someone."

Jin smugly shrugged. "What can I say? I'm too attractive for my age."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." You waved him off. "Get out of my house."

He laughed, but nonetheless he left right after. Jin only went to your house because he actually just wanted to borrow a ladle for cooking.

You plopped down unto your couch and closed your eyes in exasperation. You were really unlucky at love, you see. No matter who you dated, it always ended as a break-up. Mostly you were the one who broke up, because somehow, every one you dated shared the same negative trait.

They were all. . . trying hard too much to excel. You never really liked the feeling of a suffocating relationship, and most of them made you feel in that way. It wasn't suffocating in a bad way, but also not in a good way.

Even you can't understand yourself anymore.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked up to the ceiling, staring into white, blank space of chipping off paint. Blowing out a small sigh, your legs moved and you stood up from the couch. You had nothing to do at home anyway. You were done with all the chores you needed to do to make sure you were still living inside a breathable and healthy house because no one had to do the chores for you, considering you were living alone.

Grabbing your coat and keys, you made your way out of the house and locked the door shut to ensure safety. Not that you really had anything so valuable inside, most of the stuff are only nonsense. Atleast most of them. You sometimes keep things you shouldn't really keep, like the old vintage book inside your bedroom or the dead, wilthered flowers enclosed in a vase sitting just at the corner of your kitchen.

The cold air was crisp and the sun was bright, a few people walked around, both alone or with company, and several cars passed through the streets. You hugged yourself right after you pulled on your coat, softly cursing at the coldness of the month. It didn't help your misery of finding a suitable partner for yourself, it was just adding gasoline to the fire called longingness inside you.

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