Irresistible

Prologue

"They say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends, will God go down with it?"

Park was tired, really tired. Beads of fine sweat dotted his forehead and brow, he wiped them with his hand and looked away. He'd been on a plane for 12 hours, and now he was finally back at the place he could safely call home. He stared out the window of the cable car, the ever so familiar streets and houses of San Francisco dotted his sight; or "Frisco", as they used to call it. Park was back after half a decade, an extremely painful 5 years. He just could not live with his past anymore, his painful and marred past, he had to come back and make things right. The cable car slowly came to a stop as Park recognized that part of the neighborhood; he stood up nervously and alighted the cable car.

It was a really cold August day, his breath misted in the air as he walked. He waved his hand in front of him to stop them fogging up his glasses, then carried on waking. Out of curiosity, he observed his surroundings. The ground has changed, repaved, he thought as he looked down. The lamps that he was familiar to were also repainted brown, his favorite color. Park pushed those thoughts out of his head as he stopped, hesitating for a while. Why am I doing this? What if she's gone? Park finally made up his mind and continued to walk.

He had promised himself that he would come back and visit Brooke one more time, regardless of the risks or challenges. No, the obstacles in the way were more like mental challenges, those that he could not deal with. He didn't care about the worrying thoughts arising in his head, or the thoughts whereas he had lost his place in Brooke's heart. He needed to get on with it.

He continued to walk up to the intersection, and then took a left, only guided by his instinct and memory. And according to his memory, this was the place. He looked around and found a familiar house facing back. Not a change from the last time he saw it, which was 5 years ago. Blinds covered the 5 front-facing windows; he could still see the whitewashed window frame. The walls were that same cream color, the color of pistachios blended with cream. The roof was a dark and premium-looking mahogany. He could make out 2 distinct voices talking within the house. His heart suddenly started pumping faster and faster, powered by the adrenalin flowing in his veins.

Park took a step forward and ringed the doorbell. He took a deep breath while studying the door. The door was dark and wide, just like how he knew it to be. The brass knocker glistened in the sunlight, though it unused, there was a doorbell.

There were footsteps, then the handle slowly turned, the door swung open.

To Park's disappointment, it wasn't Brooke. It was an older teenager, slender and slick black jet hair (with the occasional purple highlight). She had huge piercings, with heavy silver dangling earrings dangling off her ears. Her face was covered heavily with makeup and her Goth T-Shirt was too messy for him to read. He assumed they were lyrics from some heavy metal band that he was unfamiliar with.

"Who the heck are you?" She asked.

"Hi." Park said as he took a step back, "I was wondering if somebody called Brooke Ravenwood lives here?"

The girl swore loudly about intruders and something else. Then replied in an annoyed tone, "You think I know who that prick is huh? I do know that some family moved out a coupla years ago."

Park was searching for words, all he could say was a thanks. The girl swore again and slammed the door in his face.

The emptiness in him grew larger and larger, it was like a hole consuming him from the inside, he couldn't believe he came all the way from Europe for nothing. He could have spent this time doing something better. He walked four blocks down to grab a coffee, remembering it was Brooke's favorite coffee shop when they were younger. He had his head down all the way, pointing at the ground. The re-paved ground no longer seemed new and interesting, those hideous autumn leaves looked more dead than ever. The little miniscule holes in them causing them to crinkle in the wind, Park stepped on one and twisted his feet, shredding it into a thousand pieces. He looked up as he sensed that he arrived. The coffee shop was the same. fluorescent lights hanged off the ceiling, which was also where the air conditioners and electrical wires were. The fine oak tables and chairs were neatly arranged, tables wiped down and chairs tucked into their position. Park hesitantly walked up front and asked for a frappe. He fished some American change out of his pocket and sat down at a table near the window, thinking. Tears rolled down his cheek and onto the floor as he thought of her, Brooke, whom he would never see again. She would be sitting near the window, in the exact same spot, sipping a strawberry frappe, while either listening to "What A Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy or just reading quietly.

It was gone now, all of it. Park had lost her, forever – and he was just about to give up on bringing her back...