Buy me flowers| PJM

F. 36

He pauses, as if he forces himself to go further.

"But one day I found out it wasn't just alcohol." He continues. "It took me 5 years to realize my girlfriend was a drug addict. And I've never forgiven myself for that, not even now."

"Did you break up with her because she was a drug addict?" I ask, a bit revolted by what my teacher did in his teenage years.

"No, of course not." He says. "That just made me want to be closer to her, to take care of her and help her give up this horrible addiction. It worked for a while."

He looks at me straight in the eyes.

"At least I thought so. She continued enjoying parties to that crazy level, she continued being that lively soul I've fallen for. And I thought seeing her like that was making me happy. She was making endless promises, that she's trying to give up her addictions. I understood how hard it was for her, I really did. But those were empty promises. And even though I thought I was happy, I was dying inside. It was like she was consuming the drugs and I was suffering for it."

"And how did you realize it was no good?" I ask out of curiosity.

He sighs.

"I've found myself writing poetry about toxic relationships. And I knew it wasn't me anymore."

He avoids his gaze for a second, then he continues:

"Those were... hard, really hard times, it was like I'd lost myself and it took me awfully long to find it again. But it had to end, it was heading to a bad direction... She was brought to rehab short after we broke up. I haven't heard anything about her ever since."

And he looks at me.

"Maybe you're wondering why I've told you this." He remarks.

I nod. I am.

"I've read the essay." He says.

"Oh." I mutter, still not figuring out the connection.

He sighs.

"Yuna, what have you written is not an essay." He says. "It's a confession."

I frown lightly, trying to get his point.

I can't.

"Sorry, Sir, but what do you mean?" I ask.

He sighs again and stands up. He's not a tall man, which gives him a comforting aura, something that makes me believe in his words.

"I can see the topic you were given, indeed. I can see that part of yourself that bleeded on this paper. Techincally talking, it is an essay. Yuna, this is one of the best essays I've read this year." He says.

And I wait for the "but".

"But..." he continues, making me grow even more impatient. "I know you're used to write based on reality, I know how genuine your writing can be. But I can sense that the character you're talking about in this work is actually real. You can fight with me on this if I am not right, but I doubt I'm not. And if this person is real..."

He stops and looks me carefully.

"I don't know what are you still doing here."

It hits me. Suddenly, the revelation of everything I have written in that essay floods my mind, my heart, my whole being. And once again, I feel like my heart has stopped. The connection between his story and mine overwhelmes me and I feel dazed, as if I might faint anytime.

I don't know what are you still doing here.

What am I doing here? Why am I not running towards my salvation, my point of start and the ending of it all? Just so I can free myself from the hell I've been through.

"Miss Jung, I know that what I have experienced affected me on levels I wished to keep sane. It wasn't possible. But at least, I can teach the others not to do the same mistake as me." He says. "I want you to understand there is a thin line between passion and addiction. And that's why I told you my story. Soyeon couldn't be saved. But your king of the stars can be. And you're the one who should do that. Step out of the shadow and become the queen in your story..."

He says.

"As long as you still have time."

He takes his papers and I bow to him, realizing it's about time to leave.

"Thank you, Sir." I say.

"Yuna, one more thing."

I nod and wait for him to say what he has to say.

"You might be trying to hide it. But your king is not the Jeon boy, dear. You can't get two birds in one shot." He says. "Please think about it and make the step until you lose them both."

And with that, I am left alone in the literature class, the silence in the room contrasting with the noise in my heart.

But it doesn't last long. Two minutes later I find myself running out of the building, down the streets, ignoring the street lights like I was suicidal. My feet were aching, but I couldn't care less. My phone was ringing, but I couldn't bother. There was nothing that could made me stop at that point, it was like I would have fainted if I had paused for a second. I had to run.

I had to stop the mess I got myself in.

So that's how, in almost 15 minutes, I get to the building of the practice room of my brother.

I don't even stop, I run up the stairs, panting, crying, feeling like my feet were bleeding.

It's about time they have practice. He has to be here.

I need him to be here.

I push myself in the door, opening it wide. I enter the practice room, breathing heavily.

And I realize I am alone.

He's not here.

He's not here.

He's not here.

Stupid Yunhae for thinking he will be here.

I chuckle to myself.

Then I laugh.

And after that, I fall on my knees crying my heart out.

And when my tears stop falling, I realize how stupid I've actually been. Because all the conversations I've ever had with the king of the stars flood my mind like a river in the rain. And the realization lingers on me like warm honey.

Bitter sweet.

Because the person I was crazily looking for is most probably sitting on the shores of Busan right now.

And I have to admit, right then I wish I could've drowned in the ocean.