stardust | park seonghwa ✓

42

AS soon as I'm out of the elevator, I can feel the sweep of early morning wind blow through the walls. When I glance at the receptionist table, I see the usual security guard leaning back on his chair, hands tucked into his uniform pockets and snoring the night away. The night is still pitch black outside, they say hours before the crack of dawn is when the night is at its darkest. But in the shadows, I see the silhouette of a familiar figure.

When the doors open, he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on and I'm met by the presence of Seonghwa.

He still looks very much the same, except for the visible circles under his eyes and I can tell he was exhausted. His hoodie was thrown on hastily, messy hair and oh my God, he's wearing that ridiculous rubber ducky pyjama pants.

Yet, he's as ethereal as ever. It's probably because of how absence makes the heart grow fonder but even though a couple of days isn't very long, I swear he grew a millennia more beautiful. I blame the Witching Hour for making him look like this; moonlight shining down on his face, the soft breeze picking up strands of his hair... what is this witchcraft?

Seonghwa greets me with a soft smile ghosting his lips; the smile was tired, relieved, happy, confused but it welcomes me with open arms.

"You scared me," I hear him whisper on my neck.

"I know, I'm sorry," is all I can say. I was frightened too.

Humans make rash decisions when  they are, I'm sorry I worried you.

My arms that are around his waist tighten a little and I can hear Seonghwa's little thoughts as if he's speaking them. He has questions, of course he does. If I were ever in his place, I would already be asking a million questions a minute. Seonghwa allows me to take my time, it still amazes me how incredibly patient he is. He's so perfect and yet, he was never meant for me.

A constricting feeling slowly wraps around my throat and I choke back a sob. Seonghwa grows concerned as he tries to pull me off, probably going to search my eyes for answers and ask me what's wrong. Instead, I hug him a little tighter, savouring the feeling of home for a while longer before I brace myself, hoping my voice will work with me.

"It's okay," he tells me. Seonghwa caresses my hair, each stroke filled with love, so much it breaks my heart.

"Do you want to go somewhere warmer?" he asks, chuckling, after I had managed to sneeze a few times in a row. "Like inside, maybe?"

"It's just a hayfever," I tell him, "I can't stay inside... it's too cramped."

Wrong, that's not the reason. If something goes wrong, I have no place to run away but I can't tell Seonghwa that.

Minutes later, we are at a nearby park, sitting above a picnic blanket Seonghwa had retrieved from his car on our way here. Out here, I feel a lot calmer. Somehow the sounds of crickets and the distant whirring of engines of faraway cars makes me relax, it feels a lot easier, the pressure going away with the honking that sounds every once in a while. We sit on the grass by a garden lamp, I swear I can hear an owl somewhere. It sounds a little creepy but somehow, it only makes the atmosphere better. We pay no mind to it.

"So uh... a-about that day... uh... Seonghwa," I start, playing with the edges of the box of tissues he managed to bring as well. "I-I'm sorry. You're probably confused but I had to, I'm sorry."

Seonghwa doesn't say anything for a while, the silence is wrapped with uneasiness but I try to focus on the sounds of the crickets instead.

"Oh... we're―you weren't sick?" he asks, "I thought you were sick... now I'm confused?"