I Don't Love Him | hoseok

v

I don't love him.

I didn't ask for this either.

Not once did I wish to be chosen over someone else.

I was his friend.

I was his confidential. His warm, ever welcoming safe haven.

He used to come to me - as a friend, but nevertheless, I sheltered him and poured my all in the aid of his wellbeing.

Yeah, I know it's my fault.

As time runs past me, I only see his interactions with her become more warm and thoughtful.

It was noticeable recently.

He approached me first, bursting with joy.

"Hey, how are you?"

I looked up from my laptop. Pathetically, my face reflected his joy with a grin.

"Hobi, hey. I'm great!"

"I haven't seen you smile in a while." He said, a little short of breath. He looked down at a paper in his hands and smiled even wider, if it was possible.

There it was again. My breath tangled inside my lungs, unable to let me think properly.

"Well," I chuckled, looking down into my laptop before it was too noticeable; the tint on my cheeks. "I needed some cheering up, I guess."

"It looks nice on you, being happy."

What?

"Oh... thanks."

He nodded, gripping onto the paper.

"Why did you approach me anyways?" I asked, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness bubbling up inside.

"I need your advice. I could not think of anymore more fit for the job than you, since you are my confidencial and all."

Be still, my heart.

I nodded, urging him to continue.

"I'm going somewhere tonight, extra special. I want to surprise someone but can't seem to decide what to bring. Help." He said, still standing in front of me.

I reached out to grab the paper from his hand, reading his scribbles, which appeared often when his mind would go 100 miles a minute and his hand would have a hard time catching up. I could picture him now, focused on the paper and pen in front of him as he wrote.

• Wine & cheese (maybe too cheesy?)
• fresh fruits and chocolates
• the teal necklace
• a movie or something

I looked up from the paper, meeting his eyes with my desperate ones.

"Who is this for?"

"It's um," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "You know, Sunny."

It was his turn to blush now.

Yeah, I know it's my fault.

I don't love him.

He loves Sunny.

He adores Sunny.

So, why would I be dumb enough to love him?