You never know what really matters until it's gone.
•*•
The next day Jeongguk wasn't at school.
And I felt like shit. Absolute shit. Always so grumpy, always like a hedgehog.
I sat in my seat at the back of the class with a cold, empty seat beside me. It felt so wrong. Jeongguk's warm, calming aura—it wasn't there. He wasn't there.
I didn't know why it affected me the amount it did. It scared me.
The many colourful, adventurous fantasy books he always read weren't placed in a pile at the corner of the desk. It looked so empty. I carefully placed my hand down at his side of the table. It was cold. I didn't like the cold anymore.
I quickly retracted my hand at the realization of what I was doing and my eyes widened. No, focus on the lesson.
But every single thing would suddenly remind me of the blondie.
A word. The teacher explained about some of the most known demagogues in the world but all I remembered was how Jeongguk used the word once when we studied in the library together.
An object. The clock was tilted slightly to the side, mimicking a tilted head, Jeongguk's tilted head.
A sound. A group of girls sat and giggled in the corner of the classroom while the teacher wasn't looking, but all that filled my head was Jeongguk's little giggles he had let out when I once had tripped and had been close to falling on my face.
A scent. The canteen was baking cinnamon rolls today since it was Friday, and my mind wandered back to the sweet scent of Jeongguk's blonde locks, that I had grown to love like a sweet addiction over time.
This couldn't be healthy.
I shook my head and began writing down notes on one of many pages in my notebook again, black and red pencil in hand.
After school I found myself in front of Jeongguk's house. It looked the same as the first time I saw it. I walked up to the small door and pulled my right hand out of my leather jacket pocket to knock, but froze as my eyes once again widened.
What was I doing?
I let out a shaky breath and stepped away from the door. I pulled myself together, clearing my throat and adjusting my jacket as I looked around.
You're a lone rider, don't forget, I told myself. People like me—we take care of ourselves.
So I walked away.