~ a Park Jimin AU ~
re·al·i·ty
1. the world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them.
See, that isn't right. Thanks for nothing, Google. Reality is based on perception - very rarely does it...
5:29 PM, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2028 (1 MONTH LATER). NEW BRAUNFELS, TEXAS, USA.
"Abbaaaaaaaa, Emira is hogging the bathroom!"
"I don't know, talk to your mother."
"No, I said she was hogging the – you know what, never mind. Mááááááá!"
I opened the door, releasing a puff of steam that made Riella stumble backward. "There, all yours."
"I don't want to go in there."
"You were just yelling to Mom and Dad that I was hogging the bathroom!"
"You were! But now it's steamy, and I don't want it anymore."
"Oh, my goodness, just open a window, Riella!"
"I'll use the one downstairs."
I threw my arms in the air exasperatedly. Two years apart, and my family hadn't changed a bit. It was refreshing in many ways, to know that at least one thing had stayed constant, that something wasn't entirely a lie. When I first arrived home, my parents freaked out, noticing my ugly scar. I had to create an alibi about one of the 'terrorist attacks.' So, I guess something here was a lie.
My phone pinged from where it laid atop my bed, and I practically sprinted across the room to reach it. But the glowing screen just displayed a notification for an email from my colleague at Kim & Kim, telling me to enjoy Thanksgiving.
I didn't reply. I didn't care. The only reason I looked was for Arlie.
"Riella! Riella! Riella, for the love of – oh, Emi. Have you seen Riella?"
"Yeah, she went to the downstairs bathroom. Why?"
Thao looked just as exasperated as I felt. "She used my comb, and now I don't know where it went."
When he began to eye me suspiciously, I insisted, "I don't have it! Ask your girlfriend, or something."
"Hien doesn't know any more about it than I do." He continued to mutter to himself after withdrawing from my room.
After ensuring that the room was secure – by which I mean praying to God that my family wouldn't burst in – I plopped down on my bed and began to scroll through my messages.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
That was the last time we talked. I sent that message almost a month ago, and Arlie had said nothing since. It felt useless to write periodic texts if she couldn't reply moments after first texting me. I didn't know whether she was actually busy or just avoiding me.
