a person who acts unwisely under the guise of a love potion ; we don’t call it love. see also: jina and @mmgyul, the annual yosul commencement party, amidst confusing, tormented hearts.
𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒, 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. maybe it wouldn’t hurt when she notices the way his eyes are never on hers and the realization strikes her faster than cold water on a monday morning. she never had a chance, did she? she wants him to look at her, see her -- please. the words are deaf on the lips because jina never begs, but her heart bleeds in consequence. the flowers in her lungs once so full in bloom, vibrant and lovely quickly wilt, and she wants to breathe -- cough, feel the air slither it’s way into her chest rather than the way they shrivel up. locking her breath and keeping her entertained with the disillusion that this wasn’t true. but she can’t -- she feels them crush into her windpipe and all she feels is daffodils, roses and lilies, discontempt, devastation and frustration.
her eyes are hearts, heavily so, eclipsed onto him and he can’t seem to see her. why won’t he see her? these feelings are too familiar, they grow fangs and sink into the very cracks she had thought she had successfully glued together. but jina, oh jina, she never learns.
a girl of nineteen, she doesn’t know love.
she can’t seem to get her bearings together ; they’re powerful and her heart aches, painful -- the cracks appear again. faster this time, undoing months of forgetting, of pretending; they break where they once lay, deeper, and deeper and the flowers in her lungs die. why so? because he doesn’t say the words he once had said.
instead, “hold that thought, i’ll be right back” is spoken into the void and jina lets him. she lets him slip through her fingers like all those times because her eyes are full of broken hearts and she doesn’t have it in her to stop him. it hurts, but she pretends it doesn’t.
pretending is fine, it saves her the heartbreak. because no, he wasn’t going to do this to her again, was he? ( he has, he will, he can’t stop but jina doesn’t want to end this so soon -- this soon -- they just reconciled )
memories of when she first confessed flood and she feels the gash in her heart tear just a bit more as fingers wind into small fists. the wound is stale, dried blood rounds the corners and all yun has to do is dip dainty little fingers in and pull, for everything to come apart. perhaps, months apart did nothing to cure the heartache, she fears. it’s secured when he reaches his target and she has to force a breath because the flowers are too much, they’re ashes instead of air and she’s coughing up death; in the midst, her heart constricts.
time stills and she rarely notices the way hangyul comes and never leaves; acknowledgement falls flat because all jina can see is what she doesn’t believe.
jina thinks if she blinks it won’t hurt. she thinks if her eyes close for just a second, that it isn’t real -- that reality is far more kinder than her nightmares, than dreams could ever be. but through glass eyes, all she sees is the way he’s falling into her and jina can’t look away.
was this love?