ROZIE's POV
After two more hours of looking into numerous dream interpretations from Google pages and Youtube videos, I decided to rest my case. Maybe some dreams are better left ununderstood.
I swung the high chair from left to right as I rid my mind off of anything relevant to it. I can't believe I just wasted so much time and energy trying to make out of something that refuses to make sense at all. I shook my head and sighed loudly.
But just a consolation, I read somewhere earlier that when the dream finally gets in touch with reality, you would know it. You may not have the memory of it but once it happens, it will hit you, and boom. Everything just makes perfect sense. But until then, I will not be enslaved to all this mystery.
I have better things to do. Even better thoughts to think of.
Besides, I can already feel my temples throbbing from all this mental work. Argh. I forcefully puffed out.
After a few minutes more of battling with the stubborn mind, I'm pretty much convinced of the little pep talk I gave myself. I took a deep breath and counted one to three. No more Rozie. No more.
As soon as I got a clean slate, the next thought came with a loud welcome.
"Next time you get yourself in trouble, have your boyfriend get you out of it."
Oh, God. I buried my face in my palms. I didn't know which actually bothered me more. The angry words he said in spite, or the look in his eyes that spoke to me in... in...
... pain.
What made him so upset? I tried to recall each part of that conversation.
Recall
"Do you realize what time it is?"
I hesitantly glanced at my phone and said, "1.30."
"Exactly."
"But what's the fuss all about? I don't recall you saying anything about a curfew."
"Maybe I didn't. But I can clearly recall you almost getting raped by three drunken men and I had to go out of my way just to save your sorry ass."
I blinked out of my reminiscence almost instantly. The misery I went through that night still gave me shivers. I quickly snapped out of it knowing my fingers will start trembling soon if I don't.
"I was with Yoongi the entire time." Yeah. I remember he was fuming. His hand firmly gripped the can like he could crush it any time. But when I said, "I was with Yoongi the entire time.", he...
... changed. He didn't appear to be so mad all of a sudden.
He actually looked... crushed.
Huh? My eyebrows furrowed at the thought. Out of all the adjectives, my mind decided to narrow down to 'crushed'. Unbelievable!
I continued to pettily scold myself but at the back of my head, why do I think it was no mistake? His eyes indeed looked, crushed.
But why?
I jumped to my feet when I heard the passcode being entered from the other side of the door.
"Oh, dear God!", I exclaimed in panic. I was caught between pretending to wash the dishes or running back to my room at full speed. I decided on the latter but as soon as I heard the door close, I just froze. This is definitely one of the many moments I would want Earth to swallow me whole.
Why didn't I prepare myself for this instead?! Why the hell do I have to think of that stupid dream?! I am so not ready to speak with him!!! I can feel my feet softly stomping on the wooden floor out of sheer frustration and complete desperation.
Knowing how short the distance from the entrance and the kitchen is, he would most probably be right behind me by now. Oh please, just kill me already. I gather all the courage the coffee I drank could ever give me and turned around to face him. It's not like I have a choice, do I?
"You're back!" I raised my hand only to realize I balled it into a fist. I quickly hid it behind my back and flashed the sweetest, most awkward smile I could. My eyes looked all around except his. Just a few more seconds and I'll head straight back to my room. I think acknowledging his presence is courteous enough of me. Right?
I waited for him to utter a single word. I was expecting either, 'Get out of my way!' or 'What are you still doing here?' or even more scolding perhaps. But nothing. Plain, deafening silence.
I tried my best to keep my gaze anywhere else but his direction. But I couldn't take it anymore. Why is he so damn quiet?
The moment my eyes met his, all the awkwardness I felt inside just vanished away.
He stood in front of me, stripped of every bit of confidence he had. It was as if he was filled with so much vulnerability and he wasn't making an effort to conceal any of it. His left hand held on to his bag but appeared to be too weak to do so. His breathing became troubled by the second and his eyes. His eyes looked straight back at me, seeming to be calling for help.
If this is still about what happened, I don't mind apologizing again and again. But my mind's telling me this may be about something else.
What did the hell happen?
I took a step forward, my hands reaching out to him but I withdrew almost instantly.
I don't want to make things any worse. But I do have to know.
"What happened?"
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To be continued...