My Sone Secret

3. Three Too Many

I was silent on the way back to the hotel, lost in the storm of thoughts that was raging in my head. The guys were both still super pumped from the concert, and I knew that they could tell something was wrong with me, but I didn't feel like explaining to them why I was so down. They wouldn't have understood anyways. How could I have even put it into words properly without sounding absolutely insane?

"You sure that you're okay?" James asked. "You look like you had a horrible time or something."

"I'm fine," I said.

"Man, you're lucky as hell, Jessica looked our way the entire time, and yet you're here all sad and shit."

"Yeah, Tiffany barely looked at me—but man, she was so hot in person!" Jake said excitedly.

"Taeyeon got pretty close to me during the finale though, remember?"

"To you?"

"Yeah, to me!"

"Just you."

"Yeah."

"Not the crowd of people in between you and the edge of the stage?"

"Dude, I swear I was able to smell her perfume from where I was."

Jake looked at him, unimpressed.

"Anyways, John, we definitely gotta go again next year! And maybe actually line up so we could be at the very front next time."

Next year, I thought. There's always next year. That is, if they even decide to come back to New York. But with her busy life, would she even remember me out of all the people she's met? Why would she? She has no reason to, I'm just one out of the thousands of people that went to the concert.

Jake and James decided to go bar hopping again, but I declined. I felt bad that I was ruining the weekend for them, but I wasn't in the mood for anything. I just felt so heartbroken. Heartbroken by an international celebrity who barely knew me. It was as ridiculous as it sounded.

After trying to convince me for about 30 minutes, they finally gave up and left me alone in the hotel room. I ended up lying in bed, moping around for about an hour or so, replaying everything in my head over and over.

It was midnight by the time I checked my phone, and her face on my lock screen made it even worse for me. I couldn't believe that I actually felt like someone who just got dumped.

What the hell is wrong with me? This isn't normal. It's not normal to feel like this. I seriously need to get it together.

I decided to go back to the top floor, to the lounge where we saw each other instead of staying inside the hotel room all night. Truthfully, it wasn't the best idea since it would have had the opposite effect of taking my mind off of her, but maybe I didn't want to yet. Maybe I just wasn't ready. Maybe I just needed to feel all I needed to feel before I could let it go. Or maybe I'd see her at the fanmeet the next day and everything would be better. Just maybe.

For the next hour, I sat by myself on the chairs in front of the vending machines. Being there in that very spot was like watching a replay of my past in third person. I visualized our bodies as we stood next to each other, remembering the exact expression on her face as I handed her the bottle. It was one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen in my life. Then I watched myself walk away, and turning back when she asked me for my name. Everything was like a movie.

Like a movie, I thought. That's right, movies aren't real. They're fictional. And they have endings. Just like how our story was coming to an end.

I dragged myself back to the hotel room and jumped on the bed, rolling back and forth, trying to get myself to snap out of it.

Why am I so sad? Why am I so disappointed? I should be happy. I met her. Not even once, but three times. And she remembered who I was at the concert. How many people get to say that? How many people would have even dreamed of that happening? Why aren't I happy about it? Why do I want more? What is more, though? What do I even want?