Cursed | Yang Hongseok

•6

Maybe I should've just turned down this offer when I had a chance.

Maybe I should've told Hongseok something like: "I'm sorry, I don't think I am experienced enough for this. You should find someone else."

Maybe, just maybe, I should've told Seungyeon not to send him to my office that day. She could've told him that I wasn't feeling well or something like that. That way, I wouldn't have to worry about everything now.

I definitely should've done at least one of those things, but of course, I did none. Why? Well, that question bothered me the most.

Because I didn't even know why.

Hongseok did apologize to me for making me feel uncomfortable that evening at his house. For some reason, I forgave him quite easily, and after that, we started meeting more.

Despite being scared of him at first, now I kind of got used to his strange behavior. He would tell me more about his life, with a few sentimental episodes here and there, and surprisingly enough, my reaction would always be the same like that first night when he told me about the woman that he used to love. I still wasn't able to figure out what type of feeling that was – I only knew I felt something, but it seemed to me as if that feeling was somewhere in the deepest part of my brain, hidden behind a thick wall that had to be broken in order for me to realise everything that I felt towards Hongseok.

*

Today was one of those days when we would meet. At first, I was really uncomfortable beacuse I had to go to his house so often, but he noticed my worries.

"I assure you don't have to worry about that, Xia." He said. "You are not disturbing anyone, since I live here alone. And I want you to come here."

Oh, so he does live alone, I thought to myself.

I nodded, trying to focus on my notes on the laptop.

"So, which part of your life are we discussing today? How about family?"

He gulped, takinhg a distant look trough the window like he would always do when trying to come up with an answer of some kind. I was honestly fascinated by the fact that I was able to notice and memorise all of those trivial habits that he had, especially since I wasn't that good at observing.

"... My family has been dead for quite a while now." He finally said. "I am the only one left."

"I– I'm sorry to hear that." I said, but he just shook his head.

"It's okay." He said. "I do miss them from time to time, but they are in a better place now. My childhood was really nice, though. Let me tell you about it."

With each sentence said, I felt like he was moving closer towards me. I didn't know why he was doing so, but I didn't mind. Instead, I kept listening to his childhood stories until his face was barely half a meter away from mine.

"Tell me, Xia, have you ever felt a sense of déja vu so strong that you can swear something has already happened?" He changed the topic all of a sudden, his words carrying some sort of weigth.

"Don't we all feel that way sometimes?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable by how close we were to each other. But the worst thing was, I didn't want him to move away. One part of me wanted to cut these last bits of distance between us, but another, more rational part of me was restraining me from doing so.

"Yes, of course we do." Hongseok frowned ever so slightly. "But what I meant was, have you felt that way recently?"

Was this his way of flirting? I don't know how to respond, then, I thought to myself, panicking internally.

Yes, of course I've felt that way recently. Ever since Hongseok appeared in my life, I had that wierd, unexplainable feeling that I already knew him from somewhere. But the real question was – Should I tell him that?

I decided that I should. Saying that I had nothing to lose would be a lie, but still, this strange part of me was telling me that it was the right thing to do.

"Actually, Hongseok..." I took a breath. "I have been feeling that way ever since I met you. At first, it was just a slight feeling of déja vu, like when you hear a name and think about how it sounds kind of familiar. But then, when I saw you for the first time, your face felt familiar, too. And your voice, your behavior, the way you're talking. Even your past seems like a story I've already known. Call me crazy, but that's just a wierd feeling that I have, and since you asked me, here's your answer."

Hongseok just kept staring at me, and for a moment, I thought that he wasn't going to say anything, so I felt the embarrasment rushing to my cheeks in a form of a burning red color.

However, just a few seconds later, he smirked, leaning into my face even more, so that only a few centimeters were separating us now.

"Good." He said quietly. "That's good."

That's it, I thought. If this isn't a sign, then I don't know what is.

I closed my eyes, leaning into a kiss.

But I was surprised when, instead of feeling Hongseok's lips on mine, I just felt the air.

When I opened my eyes to chek what happened, I noticed him standing a bit further from where he stood just a second ago.

"I– I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–" I started to apoligize, but he interrupted me.

"No, it's not your fault. It's mine... We shouldn't–"

"You're right. We shouldn't." I said, closing my laptop and standing up from my chair. "Maybe I'm good at writing, but reading people is not really my thing. So I'm sorry for not being able to understand your mixed signals."

"Xia, wait–"

I didn't stay to hear whatever it was that he wanted to say. Instead, I got out of the room as fast as possible, and then out of the house as well. I didn't turn around, but I didn't think he was following me either. Maybe he was aware that it wouldn't really change anything.

*

I kept an emotionless expression on my way home. However, when I finally closed my apartment's door behind me, I felt the warm tears coming out of my eyes like the two salty rivers od sadness, disappointment and embarrassment.

What was I even thinking? That my client, a serious man, actually had feelings for me?

I was really stupid to think so.

But then again, that was just who I was. A writer.

And writers have always been known for living in some sort of a delusion, their own imaginary world that was nothing compared to the real one.