Backstage love ♮ Park Jisung

♮21

She was perked up now, waiting for the details with shining eyes and the boy scoffed, leaning forward to push her back with a hand on her forehead.
"Ouch." She glared at him.
"None of your business."
"Damn, so moody." She grunted, sticking her middle finger at him and he responded back with both middle fingers.

Hayun and Jiho stayed hanging out in her room before he looked at the time and realised he needed to go to work.

"I'll see you later." He said when they were by the door.
"Want me to walk you down?" She asked and he shook his head. "Well, thanks for the brownies, tell your Mum I said thanks too."
"Alright," he nodded. "And by the way..."

Jiho trailed off after his words, glancing at Hayun who was most of the time filled with optimism and playfulness. But when he saw her, he could remember the time years ago when the light was taken from her when her Mother walked out.

Hayun looked like her Mum, more so as she got older. It's sad that her mother wasn't around to witness it.
"Hm?" She asked, confused why he stopped.

"She would be proud of you." Is what he said, hurt flashing past her eyes alongside her face falling just a bit.
"Wish she was here." She whispered out, heart aching.

Jiho smiled sympathetically, looking at her and now he could see the 13 year old in her, the one who cried and cried.

As Jiho's words lingered in the air, Hayun found herself standing by the door, her thoughts drifting back to a time when her world seemed simpler yet carried the weight of an absent presence- the memory of her mother.

In the quiet moments that followed, the room held echoes of unspoken emotions. Her mother's absence had left an indelible mark on her, a void that, no matter how much time passed, reminded her of the irreplaceable bond they once shared.

Hayun moved back to her bed, the warmth of Jiho's encouragement conflicting with the subtle ache that resided in the depths of her heart. She traced her fingers over the familiar contours of a framed photograph on her bedside table – a captured moment frozen in time, a snapshot of her mother's smile.

The image depicted a time when laughter echoed through their home, and her mother's presence wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. In those fleeting moments, the shared joy seemed infinite, but life had its way of destroying that.

She couldn't help but wonder how her mother would react to the person she had become, the milestones she had reached, and the dreams she continued to chase. A bittersweet smile touched her lips as she envisioned conversations they could have had, the advice she might have shared, and the pride that would radiate from her eyes.

As Jiho left, Hayun couldn't shake the lingering sense of longing that accompanied thoughts of her mother. She cherished the memories, both the laughter and the tears, understanding that her journey was intertwined with the essence of a woman who had left an enduring impact on her life.

With a quiet sigh, she whispered words to the photograph, "I miss you." before collecting herself, the optimism that usually defined her spirit gradually returning.

She couldn't let herself get upset, she couldn't.

Instead, she decided to look through social media at the reactions from the debut. Amidst watching back the debut performance video, Hayun scrolled through the comments.