Jaemin the Icy Prince on Campus - Na Jaemin NCT

38. Ghosts

Jaemin's house is empty. It has been empty for the past two years. There is a huge For Sale sign pasted across the front gate.

"They moved away two years ago." Mum avoids looking at me, and takes great care not to mention his name. 

"Do you know where they went?" I feign indifference, but her eyes rest on mine for a moment, and she looks troubled. 

"Mina," she says hesitatingly. "I - " But Dad comes in at that exact moment, and she turns away, pursing her mouth. When she looks at me again, she says, very casually, "No. I have no idea where they went. We lost touch."

I sit at my desk, and stare at it. After a while, I open the drawer, and take out my exercise book. I flip the pages, and stare at the black print for a while. Then I close it.

I open the door leading out to the balcony, and look to my left. The windows are shuttered, the balcony coated with dust. Across the street, a boy of about twelve gets down from a school bus. I wonder if he is the little boy who used to peek at me and Jaemin kissing on the balcony. The boy walks through his front gate, and looks up at me, as he closes it with a bang. He looks away, and walks into his house. There is no recognition in his eyes; he does not remember me.

Everything changes.

Nothing stays the same.

Junnie calls me, and invites me to a New Year's Eve party. Jerry, her boyfriend, will be there.

"C'mon, you haven't left your house since you came home."

"It's jetlag," I say. "I keep sleeping at the oddest times."

"You'll be fine by Sunday," she says. "C'mon, say okay."

I say okay.

The ghosts of the past are everywhere.

I shut my eyes, the mists lift, and the memories come crowding in.

Jaemin, laughing, as we steal kisses in the storeroom. A hot flush stains my cheeks, and my heart is pounding in my chest.

Jaemin, walking beside me in the sunset, his skin turned gold in the evening light, the long black shadows of the stunted trees cutting across the flame-coloured narrow path, his hand entwined with mine.

Jaemin, leaning out of the balcony on a winter's morning, when the frost is thick on the inside of the glass, roaring his white breath to the sky.

Jaemin, lying on my lap on a wooden bench, his skin turned mahogany with the summer sun, his drowsy eyes reflecting the flickering light as he basked in the heat.

Jaemin, staring at me across the cafeteria, the heat of his gaze upon me, the little electric shock that happened every single time he glanced up at my face from his table, and our eyes met.

Jaemin, looking at me in silence, his hands, long and narrow, his strong fingers running down the curve in my back.

Jaemin, his head bent towards mine in the flickering light of the candle, holding me close, his cheek pressed against mine, swaying to a melody.

Jaemin, the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at me, that he cared, utterly and completely. That there was no one else in the universe who mattered to him as much as I did.

Jaemin, watching me with lazy eyes, his fingers trailing circles around my mouth.

Jaemin, in my room, on my bed, all long limbs and tangled hair, his arms tight around me, the heat of his skin against my skin.