The Moon on a Frozen Lake

8: Ink Blots

My nightmares and dreams,

On canvas like drops of ink,

Bleeds, stains, and links,

Dreams into nightmares,

nightmares into dreams.

--- J., 2018

Was this a dream or his reality?

Still caught in that limbo between sleeping and waking, Jihoon waded through the fog in his mind. On the sofa before him, Yingyue sits, her face stricken with... hurt? Disappointment? Anger? It was difficult to tell. Perhaps it was all those emotions at once, cannibalizing each other. As for himself, he was somehow on the floor, consumed by a niggling sensation that he had done wrong. What exactly did he do?

Pulling his knees close to his body, Jihoon pressed both palms against his temples and tried to remember. There was a cave and he... he was trapped, tortured by a thirst so great his whole body shook with the need to drink. There was frost, too, splattered across rocks in blinding white cobwebs. It dug into his skin. Not so much that it crippled him, but enough to rob him of his sanity. And Leila. She was there like she always was. His tormentor and avenger. Her body against his. Lips sweet as honey. Skin soft as rose petals. Like a lost wanderer stumbling upon an oasis, he clung to her. Then he drank and drank, ravaged and took.

Except it wasn't Leila.

It was Yingyue.

Clarity rushed in like a deluge. With it were scattered debris of horror, guilt, and shame. He messed up. Having spent too long on very little sleep, of course, his body was bound to crash. Why did he let himself get too comfortable? This was what happened when he let his guard down. A small lapse in judgment was all it took. Now he'd gone ahead and kissed her thinking she was his ex-fiancee. He looked up and found Yingyue still there. Frozen, just as he was.

"Yingyue, I'm so sorry. I---" How was he supposed to explain this? Was there even a way to excuse his behavior? "I didn't mean to do that. It's... it's..."

"Don't worry about it." She raked a hand through her hair. "I... We..."

Whatever she was about to say simply drifted away. Lost in the gaping chasm between them. It was obvious that she, too, didn't know what to make of what had happened. The two of them stared at each other, mouths opening and closing like a fish out of water.

It was unbearable.

Then, there was Leila. Her presence still lingered in his thoughts, tangling with his current reality. He couldn't tell where the guilt he always carried because of her ended and where the emotions he felt for Yingyue began. They're all jumbled up like clothes in a washer— spinning and entwining until he couldn't tell them apart.

A sharp, insistent ringing sliced through the tension. His phone vibrated and clattered over the wooden coffee table demanding for attention. Reaching for it, he saw it was his mother calling. Never had he been so grateful to see her name on the screen. He knew the right thing to do would be to ignore the call and resolve this thing with Yingyue first. Jihoon, however, rarely ever did the right thing when there was an easier way out. Giving Yingyue an apologetic look, he pressed 'answer.' All the while, insults rained on his head.

Go on, you coward.

Run away.

While you're at it, cut off that useless thing between your legs.

You don't use it anyway.

And you call yourself a man?

Gritting his teeth, he put on an upbeat tone, "M-ma? H-hello?"