Jihoon hasn't slept well in years.
Not since he survived the accident that killed the woman he loved.
Yingyue never leaves her house.
Not since her parents died in a car crash two years ago.
Both crippled by their own fears, the two of them should...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[Thank you to BornToWrite47 for creating this pretty aesthetic. I love it!]
Even after taking a hot shower and bundling herself in layers of thick flannel, Yingyue couldn't stop shaking. Tremors coursed throughout her whole body, an aftershock to all the events that earlier shook her once tranquil world. Getting in bed and pulling the blanket up to her chin, Yingyue once again tried meditation. As a qualified yoga teacher, she should be an ace at this. Most days, it worked. But both her attempts tonight made her feel like a fraud.
Yingyue pinched the bridge of her nose to stem the tears. Every breath she took brought an ache to her chest and aggravated her wound.
When so many things vied for her attention, it was impossible to empty her thoughts.
Something within her changed tonight. When she saw Jihoon falling apart, saw how upset he was, fear for his safety overshadowed all the others. And ironically, because she feared, she grew courage.
But how long could this last?
She'd had private sessions with a psychologist. Before her injury, she regularly practiced yoga and meditation to manage her anxiety. None have been able to help her overcome her irrational fear. Always, the guilt she carried around clouded everything with its insidious presence. Like the smog in winter, it tainted everything it touched polluting what should be beautiful memories.
Tonight's triumph might as well be a fluke.
And then, there was Jihoon.
Even though Yingyue could barely remember the walk home, she'd never forget the way he held her as if she was made of fragile glass. He insisted on bringing her to her room and only left after ensuring she had everything she needed. It made her realize kindness could be dangerous, too. It was even more potent than physical attraction. Because the more time they spent together, the more she depended upon it. Yet obviously, Jihoon wasn't hers to rely on.
He was Leila's.
A series of knocks provided a distraction. When she called for him to come in, the door opened revealing Jihoon dressed in a navy blue button-down pajama set.
"Hey, I brought you some—" Brows wrinkling in concern, Jihoon lengthened his strides. "Yingyue, what's wrong?"
It didn't take long until he, too, was parting the flimsy canopy and sitting on the edge of her bed. After placing the water bottle he was carrying on her bedside table, Jihoon raised his hand as if to cup her face, but his fingers merely danced across her cheeks.
