Old Friend
Heechul opens his email and sees it immediately, his eyes flying directly to that name. He has 20 some odd emails, but he ignores them and clicks on the one from HanGeng. The sensation of falling and panicking hits him again, the same way it does every time he receives an email, text or call from Geng. He hates the panicky shaking in his chest. He hates the feeling of falling like he has stepped into an elevator shaft with no elevator car and he’s plunging to his death.
Heechul,
I’m leaving now. I’m flying to Malaysia and I’ll be there for a month filming. I’ve been thinking about what you said. I can’t respond now, but we’ll talk once I’m there.
HanGeng
Heechul stares at the tiny email and wants to hit the screen. He wants to scream and rage and call HanGeng and demand an answer. He wants to hit himself for being so stupid. He wants to cry and feel sorry for himself. He wants to drown in alcohol and forget he ever said it. He wants to wipe away the last seven years and go back to when it was good, and he wasn’t drowning in doubt and starving for scraps of moments to make into memories.
Bitterness settles over him like a familiar cloud. All he had asked was whether or not Geng still loved him.
And if he had to think about it, then wasn’t the answer obvious?
Heechul shuts down his email and closes the laptop cover. The electronic light vanishes and he is plunged into darkness. He reaches out to the only thing that he can trust is truly there for him.
The bottle feels smooth and cool to the touch, more familiar now than an old friend who once loved him.
Heechul,
I’m leaving now. I’m flying to Malaysia and I’ll be there for a month filming. I’ve been thinking about what you said. I can’t respond now, but we’ll talk once I’m there.
HanGeng
Heechul stares at the tiny email and wants to hit the screen. He wants to scream and rage and call HanGeng and demand an answer. He wants to hit himself for being so stupid. He wants to cry and feel sorry for himself. He wants to drown in alcohol and forget he ever said it. He wants to wipe away the last seven years and go back to when it was good, and he wasn’t drowning in doubt and starving for scraps of moments to make into memories.
Bitterness settles over him like a familiar cloud. All he had asked was whether or not Geng still loved him.
And if he had to think about it, then wasn’t the answer obvious?
Heechul shuts down his email and closes the laptop cover. The electronic light vanishes and he is plunged into darkness. He reaches out to the only thing that he can trust is truly there for him.
The bottle feels smooth and cool to the touch, more familiar now than an old friend who once loved him.