Rewrite the Stars [COMPLETED]

51

Irene's POV

My hand gripped around the sweating water bottle that rested on the table. My legs craved to relax, I've been standing for completely two hours now.

Watching the staff around us run from here and there, they made sure that every scene was filmed perfectly, they made sure that everything was in place. We have been given a full ten minute rest, then when I've finally accompanied myself on the foldable chair I have been eyeing since this morning, a sigh of relief came from my lips. I leaned my back, closing my eyes to finally let my body relax. I twisted the cap of the water bottle and brought the lid towards my lips, I carefully sipped on the cold liquid.

As I gulped, then after I heard laughter. I was curious enough to allow my eyes open, landing where Seulgi, Yeri and Joy was standing. Sooyoung had a frown on her face while Seulgi and Yeri playfully twirled their fingers around Joy's braided locks. Although I couldn't really hear what they were talking about, I knew they were happy.

Happy?

I wish I was too.

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to remember the last time when I've felt, true and genuine happiness. It feels like forever, it has been so damn long.

Two years.

Two fucking years.

Two years had passed and yet, I still had no news from him. I never knew if he was safe and alive, I didn't even know if I was still waiting for someone.

Would you still come back?

For two damn years, I held on to his promise. I pushed myself so hard not to forget about it, I forced myself to believe when I was slowly losing hope.

Until now, I held on tight.

Two years since Chaeyoung had kept those books from the library, checking the written letters here and then if they would change, but it seemed like the books didn't have the power like Y/N's journal had. But she didn't let go, just like me, Chaeyoung waited.

For two years, I've tried to act strong in front of the cameras, I've managed to smile for the fans, and just like now, I've managed to act the scenes for our music video without breaking down.

I suppose it was my new talent. Pretending.

Pretending I'm okay when all I ever think of every night is, if he is still alive. If he's still coming back, if he's still coming home to me. The white pillows on my bed knows how many tears I've shed, my blankets—that I hug when I cry—they know how much I've been longing to feel his presence around me.

I miss him.

I miss him so damn much.

I missed hearing his deep voice near my ear, I miss hearing his laugh. I miss his warm smiles that never failed to light up every day of my life, I miss how those strong arms would hold me, telling me silently that I'm safe. I miss feeling him.