Delete.this.

Vol fifteen. (Internally conflicted)

Properly dressed and pampered with self-applied makeup, she finally makes her way toward you, without sparing even a tiny glance. When she glides over the couch and sits on the opposite end from your side, she moves with a dash of firm grace, like a prim, pure princess. There's layers to her behavior, that you know. How many and how deep it goes is a whole other story, perhaps multiple stories.

Crossing her arms together and her right leg on top of her left, letting it bounce on her other knee, she remains committed to her cold act, feigning ignorance to your presence. As much as you want to ask her why, you don't try in the slightest to utter even a single word or an audible breath, lest you're met in response with a sharp curse or snarl.

You silently wait for Hyewon to do something, anything. As much as you want her to respond favorably, it's clear she wants to do things her way. Hate how she goes about it, but your heart tells you not to mess up more than you already have. Despite how close you are seated next to each other on the couch, there's a vast rift between you both.

Your fingers try to inch their way slowly towards her side, hoping her heart opens up, even just a little. A slight twitch of her hand makes you withdraw yours back. She doesn't even come close to slapping it nor does she intend to, but even the smallest move she makes puts you on edge. Hyewon is unpredictable as she's ever been, but for some reason she feels extra erratic than she usually is.

The stalemate between you stretches longer than you hoped. An occasional glance is shared here and there as deafening silence occupies the room. Whenever she tilts her gaze towards you, you look away. Her lips remain firm and stiff, scowling as if your very presence upsets her.

As urgent as the situation demands, you can't. There's no getting out of this without letting her have her way with you.

Slide your hands between your shirt's pocket and open your phone. 10 minutes have gone by since she entered that shower. So, not much time has passed, though uncomfortably waiting for her feels like an eternity. Her wandering eyes catch you right as you check the time, and she opens her mouth to let loose another unsavory remark.

"Looking to leave already? I should have expected this, especially from you."

Instinctively, you retreat your hand from your shirt. "Hyem, it's not like that."

She turns her head away right as you answer back, unwilling to listen to you. This time, your patience has run dry. If you needed to scream it out for her to understand, you absolutely will.

"Hyem." You slither closer to her side of the couch, but she extends her arm out to push you halfway. Her actions speak louder than words, but your determination is stronger.

Your tone gradually becomes slightly sharper with every call of her name. She refuses to budge, acting indifferently as you frustratingly try to reach out to her. It doesn't matter that there are people outside that dressing room. You need her right now, no matter who else gets involved.

"Hyem!" One more shout of her name, yet the same end result. She draws her hand back, but her face remains hidden away from you. At this point, you hop off the sofa and clench your hands into fists like a frustrated child who didn't get what they wanted. Whether or not she knows or not, you are unwilling to put up with her games any longer.

Turning your back on her, you mutter, "Fuck you, I'm leaving."

...

"Wait!"

You've barely stepped between dressing rooms when you stop. For a moment, you think it's nothing more than a dream. No way after the hard act she's been doing, she finally concedes and begs.